Page 44 of Choices

“All those in favor…” Pres asks.

Looks go around the table as each brother stands and clutches their knife, stabbing them through the image. My jaw tightens. My fists clench. If I stab the table, it will be for petty reasons, and I won’t have an answer for Callan or Green when they inevitably ask why. I’m not some punk bitch either. Denying he’s earned his patch would be bullshit. Reaching for my blade, I bring the steel down on the image. If I’m right about him being in love with Kit, he and I will deal with it, brother to brother.

CHAPTER 16

ANOTHER LEASH

KITTY

It’s too bright in here. With an irritated groan, I kick off my comforter and growl into the pillow while throwing an aggravated middle finger at the orange ball of fire burning through the window. I forgot to close the blinds last night, and now I won’t be able to get back to sleep. Only birds and masochists get up this early.

A repetition of nails clawing against wood joins in my misery. Keg’s ominous scratches ripple across the room like daggers hitting their mark into my brain with everyrip—rip—rip.

“KEG! Please stop it, you asshole.”Rip—rip—rip.Frustration bleeds from my pores. Tossing aside the pillow, I sit up, defeated. The little mass of fur lets out a meow as he tries to scrape a hole in the door. “You’re an indoor cat,” I remind him. Like I need the blow of another man trying to flee the room as soon as the sun comes up.

I slip off the bed and pull on the jeans and t-shirt I left in a heap next to the bed when I climbed into it only a few hours ago. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room,I poke my tongue out at the reflection and tug off the blue wig sitting lopsided over my head then scrub my fingers under my eyes to remove the smeared eyeliner.You’re a mess, Kitty.I swipe up my phone, and a cringe tugs at my brow reading the last texts I sent.

Me: Tim, stop being mad at me. It’s lame and no fun.

Me: I need a dog lead.

Me: Ignoring me is a bitch move.

Ignoring is a bitch move. I’d know. I’ve been doing it to Cutter for over a month now. That shit takes effort. Every time I see the man, my instincts are to go bask in his fucking presence. Love is a sickness that’s supposed to heal over time, but I’m just getting sicker. And as much as I hate myself for using Tim as a balm for the wounds Cutter left, it just nicks deeper that it’s not Cutter touching me. The fucking ache and unfairness of it all is growing inside my chest like a fungus.

A soft knock at the door sends Keg scurrying to the purple chair in the corner of the room, and my heart gallops.Cutter wouldn’t knock, I tell myself as I take the couple strides to the door and grip the handle.It’s not him.With a twist, I pull the door open, ignoring the disappointment slithering into my bones. Tim’s lean frame fills the space I’ve created, his brow pinched, lips thin.

“You know I don’t like it when you call me Tim,” he says, holding up his phone. “I was on a run last night and just got back.” I know better than to ask what kind of run.

Widening the space, I outstretch my hand, inviting him in. He hesitates for a heartbeat of a second before checking down the hall and entering.

“You are a Tim,” I remind him with a raise of my brow. He’s told me too many times to call him Chris, but that makes things too personal. This isn’t going anywhere. We use each other’s flesh as an outlet. It’s good enough for every brother in this place to fuck around so it’s good enough for me.Keep telling yourself that.

“If parts of me have been inside parts of you, you should call me by my given fucking name, Kit.” Blowing out an exasperated breath, he scoops up a pile of my clothes from the chair and dumps them in the laundry basket near the door to the ensuite before dropping his ass into the seat. “You’re a slob,” he informs me. Keg has moved to the bed, lying flat, his limbs outstretched, enjoying the sun I tried to escape.

“I like mess.” It’s comforting. Something I can control. This is my space. Half the clothes he dumped aren’t even dirty.

“Don’t I know it,” he scoffs, and I don’t mistake the dig.

“Did you come here to be an asshole or…?” I play with the waistband of my jeans, biting my lip. I see it in his hooded eyes the moment my question registers.

Lust.

It’s such a powerful chemical when shooting through the veins, erasing rational thought. I’d spent years being tempted by the drug-like allure that had left me broken and weak. Had left me an addict.

“I didn’t come here to get you off, Kit.” The husky notes in his tone tell me he may not have come for that but it’s now playing out in his mind.

Grinning, I drop to my knees in front of him, sliding my hands up his spread thighs. “Let me get you off instead, then.” I lick my lips for emphasis.

“Don’t.” He moves my hands away, shaking his head.

A bark of laughter booms from my chest. Holding up my hands, I smirk. “I’m not going to beg to suck your cock, Tim. Get out if we’re done.” Standing, I fold my arms over my chest and stare at him, waiting.

“You’re a real cold bitch, you know that?” he snaps.

“Warm me up then,” I tease.

A squeal rings through the air from mtas he launches himself out of the chair and shoves me backward onto the bed, sending poor Keg running again. Rough hands tear open my jeans and shimmy them down my thighs. I lift my ass to aid the process, thanking myself for foregoing panties. As soon as the fabric leaves my skin, his hands force my legs apart, and his mouth presses against me. I let out an unrestrained moan of pleasure. Tim knows how to eat pussy.So does Cutter.

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