Page 47 of Choices

The leash moves from my throat and pushes past my lips to the corners of my mouth, parting my lips, stretching my cheeks, stealing the air from my lungs, pumping adrenaline through my veins.

Pushing his nose into my throat, he inhales, drinking me in, then growls into my ear, “We will never be over, Kit. Fucking never.” A sharp splinter of pain makes me gasp as he releasesthe lead and grasps my jaw in his grip, crashing his lips to mine.Fuck him.

I bury my teeth into his lip until I feel a pop and blood gushes into my mouth. Whipping his head back, his eyes flash electric blue. Red liquid drips to his chin, and his breathing hitches. He looks like a vampire after feeding and fucking. It’s beautiful. “You can’t quit me, Kit, just like I can’t quit you.”

Shoving his chest, I shake my head. “I have quit you.” I snatch the leash from his hand and point to the door. “Now, get the fuck out of my room.”

CHAPTER 17

GAMES

CUTTER

Swiping my thumb across my chin, I lick my lips, clearing the blood, and take measured steps back until I’m just outside the threshold of her room. Leaning forward, I grip the doorframe.

“Tell me you hate me,” I demand. The plan wasn’t to come to her room and start shit. But I received her text last night and found myself at the store, buying the fucking lead, curious as hell what she wanted it for. As soon as I’m in her orbit, her gravity draws me in. My mind turns blank and all I see is her, consequences be fucking damned. “Say it, Kit.” I need to hear it. It’s been too long.

“No.” She clasps the door, smoothing out her features. “But I will tell you this—leave Tim alone. If you fucking touch him, I’ll touch Claire, and we can see how you like playing that game.” With that, she slams the door in my face, stunning the shit out of me. But out of everything that just transpired, I’m stuck on one thing: Tim.

I know I have no right. Not when I’m the one who’s married. And hell, even before that, I never allowed anything more thanfucking in secret for fear of Callan finding out and telling me what I already know: I’m not good for her—have nothing to offer her. It would have ruined my friendship with Callan and my place in the Kings. I would have been fucked. And now, we have the added complication of my marriage.

But I can’t quit her.

I’ve tried.

She’s soul-deep, woven into the fabric of who I am, burrowed down to my marrow.

She’s fucking mine.

Pushing off the doorframe, I exhale a breath and take off down the corridor. The smell of gasoline mixed with sweat and beer lingers down these halls, no matter how often Diamond cleans them.

I like it.

It’s familiar.

It’s home.

Making my way back toward the bar, my phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Callan: It’s time.

Fucking great.

Detouring, I head for the garage, finding Callan, Monster, Grease, Green, and Tim already there. My eyes cut to Tim, finding him watching me, his hands clenched at his side.

“Where the fuck did you go?” Callan questions, already mounting his bike parked beside mine.

“To take a piss. That okay with you, Mom?”

“Your mom didn’t look like that when I was fucking her last night,” Green calls out.

“Eat shit, asshole.” I flip him the bird.

“I ate her asshole,” he quips back.

“You want me to come over there and rip your balls off?”

“No, they’re still sore from your mom gurgling them.”

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