Page 91 of Choices

The plea causes my body to quiver in longing, wishing he would surround me in warmth until all air has been squeezed from my lungs and everything stops for a little while. But I remain strong, knowing this darkness only leads down an endless path of nothingness. “No.” The word escapes through trembling lips. The damage is too deep. I won’t be the other woman ever again. Look at the destruction our secrets cause.

We’re selfish.

Reckless.

Killers.

“Please.” His voice cracks as he begs softly, but I’ve learned my lesson so many times before. As much as I wish I could give in to him one final time, all I can do is shake my head through the tears flooding down my face. I won’t go down this rabbit hole again.

“Please, Kit…”

“It hurts too much every time you leave. Everything you just told me…I won’t do this anymore, Cutter.”

“It won’t be like before, I promise.” He edges closer, and I hold my hand out.

“Stop. You can’t make promises like that,” I choke out, shaking my head.

Light brighter than any sun beams from his face as he turns my world on its head, pulling me under water once more, dragging me into the darkness, my soul sinking and heart suffocating.

“I love you,” he says with conviction.

Thud.

“Kit, I fucking love you more than anything.”

CHAPTER 27

I HATE/LOVE YOU

CUTTER

“Don’t say that.” Panic passes over her face, her doe eyes wide and frightened. She’s sitting on the edge of her bed, the blanket half hanging to the floor covered in clothes. The blinds block out all daylight, the room illuminated in a dingy orange glow, highlighting the bruises on her face. In a pair of panties and a baggy shirt, she’s never looked more stunning. I ache to be inside her.

“I should have said it years ago,” I confess, putting it out there, raw, bare.

Life is too short. Michael could have killed her. Desolation settles over me at the thought. The soft pounding in my skull as the alcohol wears off drums in sync with my pulse. The words are out there, and I’m sure as fuck not taking them back. Resolution tightens my fists.

Fuck Claire. Fuck Pres. Fuck not being good enough. I’ll work hard to be the man she deserves. Callan knows what it’s like to fall for someone you shouldn’t, and he gives zero fucks about it. He’ll understand. I’ll make him.

“You’re married,” she bites out through gritted teeth, her breath hitching, eyes gleaming.

“I don’t fucking want to be. Not to her,” I admit out loud to her for the first time. There are a million reasons I shouldn’t be declaring my love for her. Nothing has changed about the situation except for me. Seeing her so broken by my actions destroyed something inside me…my anger and regret have been festering like a volcano waiting to erupt. I’m so lonely without her it’s becoming unbearable, and my heart aches so much, I struggle to breathe some days.

“You weren’t saying that last night when you painted her in cum.” She winces and picks up Keg, who’s trying to curl into her lap, placing him on the floor.

Grimacing, I clear my throat. “That was a mistake.” A big one. I couldn’t even go back to the room and face her after I let her suck my dick. That’s why I fell asleep on the kitchen counter. But this isn’t about Claire or Wheels or fucking Michael. It’s about us.

Laughing on a choked sob, she shakes her head, sending her hair bouncing around her face. “You’re unbelievable.”

My chest cracks. “Do you love me?” I ask desperately. I can’t remember the last time I felt this vulnerable, this sure.

She rubs her temples and doesn’t speak. The silence is so loud, it suffocates the air from the room.

“You can’t be saying this!” she finally yells, throwing her hands up.

I revel in the heat of her anger, taking it all in, allowing its intensity to etch itself into my memory so I’ll never forget how alive she makes me feel. If it was over, there wouldn’t be this much passion—this much pain. I’d fucking die for her and vice versa.

Dropping to my knees before her, I dip my head, resting my forehead on her thighs, and clutch her hips with both hands. “Ifyou tell me you don’t love me and mean it, I’ll go,” I mumble. “Do you love me?” I ask once more.

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