Page 103 of Choices

My eyes seek and land on their target: Cutter. He was inside me just a couple hours ago, the lingering soreness making it deliciously uncomfortable to sit, yet I crave his body again. I feel lighter today. This is what happiness must feel like—and I can get on board with it. Picking up my phone, I type out a message to Rogue.

Me: Where are you?

I take a swig of my beer and slip my sunglasses down over my eyes, watching Cutter behind the safety of the lenses.

He’s wearing black shit-kicking boots, blue jeans that cling to all the right places, and a band t-shirt under his cut that hugs his physique like a second skin before loosening around his midriff. His hair is pulled back off his face in a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. He’s effortlessly sexy, exuding badassery. My thighs clench, and I bite my lip.

I’ve been watching him from the shadows since I hit puberty. Absorbing, wanting, pining, despite knowing no matter how much his allure called to me, he would probably never see me.And then, one day, he looked back, and ever since, he’s been all I see, an intoxicating craving I’ve never been able to sate.

My phone chirps with a reply from Rogue. Guilt niggles at my high. She’s hurting, and I’m over here on cloud nine.

Rogue: Needed to visit Dad and Harley’s graves. Pulling back into the clubhouse now.

Me: Do you want to get drunk?

Rogue: Only on days that end with y.

Me: I love Cutter, but I think you’re my soul mate.

Closing my phone, I look over. Blue orbs edged with a flutter of dark lashes study me knowingly. My body throbs in response, then the giddiness flees, anxiety taking its place. Tiny sharp teeth chew away under my skin until there’s nothing left but frayed nerves. Claire laughs at something Rose says before pushing her arm through Cutter’s and leaning up, placing a kiss on his cheek. She’s wearing a red bikini, an oversized sun hat, and six-inch heels. Her tits are barely contained, and there’s a bandage taped to the left one. Anyone would think we’re on a yacht, not the back of a biker club.

Cutter leans into her, whispering something in her ear, then shrugs her off before he scoops up their son and throws him in the air. Giggles burst from Rocco’s lips, and my heart plummets. I hadn’t thought about the kid in all this. Or the fact that Cutter might want more.Is he going to want a family from me?We’ve never talked about any of that stuff. Kids have never been a desire of mine. I’m not sure I’ll even be a good stepmom.Crap,am I going to have to be a stepmom? Claire will never let that happen.

“Have you seen Rogue?” Callan’s voice makes me jump, and I nearly spill my beer. There are people everywhere enjoying the day the club puts on for the brothers and their families every six months, yet I’d managed to seclude myself and forget other people outside of Cutter exist.

“Is her locator chip not working?” I tease, squirting sunscreen in my palm and rubbing it into my exposed skin. It’s hotter than Satan’s balls today. In shorts and a purple polka-dotted bikini top with a sheer coverup, I’m still sweating. I don’t know how the brothers keep their cuts on out here.

“Don’t be a brat. Have you seen her or not?” He stands over me, blocking out the sun. He’s dressed almost exactly like Cutter, only his t-shirt is plain, and his jeans are black. These assholes could be in a calendar spread. The club would make a fortune.

“Not. But I’ve seen Cutter’s face, asshole.” I snap the lid on the lotion closed and give him a one-finger salute.

“He fucking deserved that and more. Creeping around with you, he’s lucky to be walking,” he scoffs, his burly frame braced, on guard.

“Did beating up on him make you feel like a good big brother? It only makes me want to kick your balls into your stomach.”

Stepping out of reach from my foot, he glares down at me. “He’s been lying to me for fuck knows how long. The beating was deserved. Feel how you want about it. But if you kick me in the balls, I’ll tell Rogue you’re trying to kill my sperm.”

“Now who’s a brat?”

“Still you.”

“Eat shit.”

“What the fuck is he doing over there with Claire? I thought that was over.”

“It is, but they have Rocco to think about, so it’s not cut and dry.” My back straightens. I feel pathetic trying to defend the situation when every part of me is bubbling with rage seeing her trying to play happy family knowing it’s not what he wants.Or is it?

I can’t shake the small part of me that worries this is all bullshit and he’ll stay with her.

“You look like you’re going to throw up.” He scans me with a furrowed brow.

“Are you still here?” I snap.

Grunting, he kicks the leg out from my lounger, and I plonk to the ground, spilling my beer down my legs.

“You dick,” I screech at his departing form. His deep chuckle carries back to me mockingly.

“I know where Rogue is,” I call after him, stopping him in his tracks.

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