2. Around we go
AROUND WE GO
KITTY
He stands by the door, unmoving. His eyes, an electric blue, blaze with a combination of need and inner turmoil as my gaze meets his across the room.
Blood splatter peppers the gray tee beneath his cut, traveling up his neck to his chin.
Moving from the bed, I close the space between us.
I wait until our bodies are almost touching, then, knowing full well he won’t tell me, I ask, “What happened?” He’s a loyal brother first and foremost, and club business isn’t something they divulge.
Not even to the women that share their bed or live at the club.
Not even to the daughter of the club president.
Silence deafens me. The walls close in, crushing my soul.
“Cutter…” My nimble fingers pathetically clutch at the edges of his cut.
How many times am I going to let myself get hurt by the hot and cold bullshit he forces on me?
We’ve been trapped in this dance for far too long.
My heart aches, becoming harder with every second he denies me.
“Talk to me.” I sound pathetic and hate us both for it. Against my better judgement screaming at me to leave, I allow his allure to keep me locked in the darkness with him. Always the girl asking the boy not to break her heart.
He shakes his head, and our eyes clash, his are a sea of turbulence.
Fuck .
I shouldn’t have come to his room.
Gripping my hands, he pushes them away from him. “You shouldn’t be here.”
My lungs seize, the heavy wave coming up from beneath us pulling me under.
Brushing past me, he shrugs off his cut, wincing when he catches a glimpse of his appearance in the mirror hanging on the wall beside the entrance to his bathroom. “Shit, I should have burned these clothes.”
“Whose blood is that?”
Silence.
He yanks the t-shirt over his head, leaving a perfect carving of muscle exposed.
A deep ache forms in my lower stomach. He begins unbuckling his belt, and all I can do is stare at the man I’ve loved since I was thirteen.
His blond hair barely fits in the tie he uses to keep it back.
Rogue strands fall around his face, framing his high cheekbones and impeccable jawline.
Why does he have to be so beautiful? A breathtaking, brutal bastard.
“Don’t make me ask you to leave, Kit,” he says, skimming his jeans down his legs.
My stomach hits the floor, my brain screaming, “Fuck you!” The urge to mess up his pretty face with a fist to the nose spikes my blood, but when my mouth opens, no words form.
“Callan’s my best friend.” He sighs. “Your dad is my pres.”
Round and round we go: same bullshit excuses, different day.
“They were both those things last week too.” I slip in slyly, biting my cheek.
Finally facing me, he pins me with a stare, heavy with the guilt etched on his perfect features. “Don’t do that. I’m trying here, Kit.”
“Let’s just tell them. I don’t care what they say.” The words ring out recklessly between us, my desperate plea running on emotion.
“Because you have nothing to lose if we do!” he roars, the veins in his neck bulging.
I have you to lose!
Taking a deep breath, he smacks himself in the head with a closed fist, immediately regretting his outburst. “Fuck, I’m sorry for shouting,” he says, imploring me with his haunted gaze.
“I’m a biker brat, Cutter.” I roll my eyes, folding my arms across my chest. “Your shouting only turns me on.” And even though I know how deadly he is, I could never be afraid of him.
“I’m not good enough for you,” he murmurs, his chest heaving. “I’ll lose everything, including you.”
The unrelenting wave is back, rising around us, threatening to crash down, destroying what we have now as well as any chance at a future together.
“Says who?” I take a step toward him, his doubt causing a rock to form in the base of my throat. “I’m not asking for a diamond ring and the promise of forever, Cutter. But don’t throw us away out of fear of it not working.”
“It’s too much of a risk.”
Am I not worth that risk? My head spins. Tears threaten to take hold as sadness washes over me.
God, does he not see how much I love him?
My chest tightens every time I look at him, my heart trying to break through my ribcage to splatter at his feet, each beat like a song written only for us.
I love him with an intensity that scares and exhilarates me, and I’d sacrifice everything for a fraction of that devotion in return.
I would give everyone up to be with him.
How does he not see that? Maybe he does.
Maybe he’s just not willing to do the same.
Loving someone who doesn’t love you back is the worst kind of pain.
The shards of what we share splinter and burrow inside me, leaving scars that will never heal.
“Don’t be a coward. If this was just a fuck for you, then tell me that, and I’ll leave and accept it for what it was.” I take a confident step forward, my back straightening, eyes narrowing.
He mimics my action. “Don’t ever fucking think that.” He squeezes his eyes shut as a shudder racks through him, cracking his resolve. In the next breath, he launches himself at me, pinning me against the doorframe, hands fisted in my hair and lips crushing mine.
I push him back, touching a hand to my throbbing lips, and smile, my breathing as erratic as his. Cutter may not know how to show me his feelings or own up to them to my brother, but he knows how to fuck, and as pitiful as it is, I’ll take anything he gives me.
Dragging my shirt up and over my body, exposing my tits trapped beneath my purple lace bra, I move straight to my leather pants, popping the button and shoving them down my thighs. “Kit,” he groans, shaking his head.
“Shut up and fuck me, Cutter.” I reach up, wrapping my hand around his neck and pulling his face down to mine. He’s over a foot taller than me. I have to tiptoe just to reach him.
Gripping my ass, he lifts me until my legs wrap around his waist. Lips manic and violent, we devour each other, as if all the answers could be kissed into existence.
He tosses me on the bed, and I shuffle back until I’m in the center, shoving the pillows to the floor.
Crawling over me, he pushes my bra up over my tits and head and wraps the material around my wrists, binding them.
My nipples peak, desperate for contact, a shiver racing over my bared flesh.
My pulse quickens as he moves over me, his eyes blazing with desire and fury.
Adrenaline surges through me, my pussy throbbing as his teeth find flesh, scraping.
He bites my tit before his lips close around my beaded nipple, sucking, the scruff on his face leaving a slight burn against my delicate skin.
His hands grasp, grope, and explore the planes of my body.
An electric current runs through my core as his fingers find my panties and yank them to the side, his lips returning to mine. “I hate you,” he growls.
“Fuck you, Cutter. I hate you too.”
The curve of his smirk against my lips sends my heart fluttering. Maneuvering himself between my legs, he grunts, “No, fuck you,” and thrusts inside me, hard and deep, unapologetically forceful, filling me with pleasure and pain, demanding my surrender with every stroke.
Air flees my lungs, and the world melts away. My pussy welcomes him, bathing his hard length in the wetness he provokes from within me. We move together like animals, raw and unrestrained, lashing out with anger and lust, soaking up every ounce of pleasure, tasting every inch of skin.
Sliding his thick, hard cock from my body, he turns me onto my stomach with a possessive force and re-enters me, fucking me slowly, tenderly, like it’s the last time we’ll ever be together.
My hands fist the sheets, the movement causing the bra binding my wrists to tighten.
His palm slips around my waist between my legs, pushing through my folds and caressing my clit in circular strokes.
Teeth pierce the skin of my shoulder, lips kissing and sucking, leaving his mark as we grind, our skin slick with sweat.
Pressure builds inside me, heat expanding through my body in electric waves, tipping me over the edge, my moan muffled in the fabric of the duvet.
Cutter’s body stiffens over me, a groan seeping from his lips as his cock pulses inside me.
The room falls quiet except for our heavy breathing, the air soaked with sex.
If we couldn’t have anything else, at least we had this, these moments.
Wrapping his arm around me, he kisses down my spine, a paradox to his earlier rough touch.
“This can’t happen again, Kit.” His breath disperses over my skin, his tone bitter and bleak.
Moving his hand to my wrist, he releases my bra, freeing me before climbing off the bed.
The overhead light spills over him, highlighting the club insignia tattooed proudly on his back.
Tears burn my eyes, but I don’t give them permission to spill over.
When he disappears into the bathroom, I gather my clothes and leave before he returns.
Fuck him .