Page 46 of Choices

Shifting in her seat to face me, she takes my hand and squeezes. “You need to decide whether this is what you want for yourself. Is it enough? If it is, then fine, keep going back to his bed and having those small stolen moments. But if it’s not, make a clean break. Don’t give your heart that power. Use your head. It will hurt for a while, but then you’ll slowly begin to realizeyou’re moving on, and one day, it will have happened and you’ll feel free.”

“Where did that come from?” I shift in my seat, trying to think of an excuse to leave at the turn of the conversation. Shit is getting deep and too real to deal with right now. I have quit him.I have. I have. I have. “I’m trying.” I almost choke on the words. The knuckles of the hand wrapped around the bottle neck turn white as I cling to it.

“I’m really trying,” I say again, but I’m not sure if it’s for her ears or mine.

“I want you to be happy,” she says, then her focus moves to someone across the room, and she stands. “Drink up. I’ll get us another one.”

“Are you trying to make me an alcoholic?” A definite change from me trying to make her one.

“Trying to help you forget for a while.” I’ve already tried drinking him away. It doesn’t work. “And if it stops you from being a Cutter cockaholic, I’m all for it.”

A choked laugh ripples from my chest, and some of the weight pressing down on me eases. Poking out her tongue, she swipes my bottle and heads to the bar, detouring toward Monster when he enters the room. My gaze shifts away from them, landing back on the man who has consumed my life. Who am I without him? I need to find out.

Getting to my feet, I push past a group of club sluts and call to Diamond who’s now behind the bar, “If Rogue asks where I am, tell her I had to go feed Keg.”

“Will do, sweetheart.”

“Thanks.”

Maneuvering through the bodies, I ignore Green calling my name and head out down the corridor to my room. My heart drops when heavy footfalls follow. There are a shit ton ofbrothers in this club, but I know without looking it’s Cutter following me.

I push open the door and attempt to whip it closed, but the tip of a shit kicker boot flies out, preventing it from closing.

Bastard.

Pressing my weight against the flimsy wood, I growl, “Fuck off.”

A hand curls around the edge of the door, shoving it open, jarring me backward. Cutter’s handsome, smug face comes into view, his long blond hair loose and tucked behind his ears, and a couple days’ worth of stubble rough on his jawline. He’s wearing a white henley beneath his leather cut and dark, fitted jeans with leather boots.

The man is a walking dildo. I want to fuck myself with him every which way—and herein lies the problem. I don’t just love the asshole, I crave him worse than any addiction. My body comes alive at the sight of him. He has a power that takes control of me, numbing my senses, narrowing the world to nothing more than need, want—that evil bitch lust. I’ve been held in lust’s grip for so long, I’ve become a broken-hearted fool clinging to the scraps he throws my way.

“You were eye-fucking me across the bar, Kit.”

“You fucking wish,” I snap.

His gaze dances up my body, heat flashing in his eyes. “So, you’re talking to me now?”

“No.”

A dark laugh slides from his lips, slicing through the room, descending over me like a shadow, sending my pulse skipping. The corners of his mouth tilt, and those eyes narrow, burning into me. “What the fuck do you need a dog lead for?” he asks, pulling a leather leash from his back pocket.

Thoughts race through my mind, and it dawns on me that I must have sent that one text to him, not Tim. “That text wasn’t meant for you.”

“Who was it meant for?” He takes a menacing step toward me, and instead of fear, a throng of excitement builds in my stomach. I’m sick.

Wrapping the leather around both fists, he flexes the cord until it’s tight. There’s a dare in my stare back at him. My throat bobs as I swallow with anticipation of his body closing in on mine.

“Who?” he demands.

The leather pushes against the delicate flesh of my neck as he towers over me, forcing me back against the wall with his body. His scent washes over me. Leather, oil, the forest floor after a rainstorm. Pure Cutter.

“Are you fucking that prospect, Kit?” he spits through clenched teeth, the tension leaking off him like sweat. The leather bites into my skin, and the taste of pain makes my pussy throb. I know I need to be careful, not for me, but for Tim. I’m stepping through a minefield wearing clown shoes.

“What if I am?” I tease, smirking.

“I’ll kill him.” There’s no joking in his tone, just a firm warning ringing with truth.

“How fucking dare you,” I bite out. “You’re married, you prick. I’ll fuck whoever I want. We’re over, Cutter. We’ve been over.”

---