Page 96 of Gunner

“Why are you doing this?”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I asked, “And what exactly am I doing, Haizley?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Haizley

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. When I moved into the clubhouse for Aspen, I figured I would help her adjust and then go back to my own home. It had been a week, and I was still here.

What was worse was that Gunner had just offered me exactly what I wanted. But I couldn’t take it. And I didn’t know why.

Biting my lip, I stared at him. He casually sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. His long, thick cock nestled between his legs that were stretched out in front of him. His arms crossed over his chest.

Why was he torturing me?

I stood there in my indecision. Naked. My clothes mocked me from the bed where Gunner had left them. What was the right answer? We barely knew each other.

“Why me, Gunner?”

“Because my soul craves yours.”

Dropping my head back, I stared at the ceiling, trying desperately not to release the tears threatening to fall.

“You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

He still hadn’t moved from the bed. He sat there like a statue of a Greek God. Or a Viking. Or a freaking Marvel character. He was too perfect. Too hot. And when he said things like‘my soul craves yours,’it did things to my insides.

Namely, my heart.

It made me want things I had given up searching for.

Like a family.

I knew I was still young. I wasn’t even thirty yet. But when you had been doing everything for yourself and others since you were sixteen, it felt like I had already lived a lifetime.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” Picking up my clothing, I rushed into the bathroom and got dressed.

Opening the door and stepping back into the room, Gunner sat in the same place, watching me. Disappointment evident on his face.

“Gunner...”

“Just go, Haizley.”

With a heavy breath, I opened the door and looked back over my shoulder. His eyes, which were still on me, said everything he wouldn’t. He wanted me to stay. But he wouldn’t force me. He wanted me to make the choice.

He didn’t understand I was tired of making the choices. I was tired of always being the one to choose. I started making my own decisions at an age when I was far too young to do so. I’d been forced to grow up long before I was ready.

If I was forced to make my own decision, it would always be the safe choice.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated with a sigh and then walked out on him.

Returning to my room, I began to pack.

I would stay tonight.

Tomorrow, I would leave.

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