That’s what this was. I shouldn’t have brought her to Boston, I shouldn’t have kissed her in my office. I shouldn’t have fucked her.
Yet, I did.
Like a damn drug addict, I couldn’t stop. I wanted more of her. Every single day. I ached to be inside her, giving her the pleasure that she deserved.
Karina Jones should be worshipped every fucking day.
“You call yourself crazy one more time, I will fuck you until my cock is the only thing you feel,” I threatened against her lips.
“I just want you. Despite everything, Col, all I want is you. Let me have you,” she begged, tears in her eyes as I pulled away.
“You’re the only one,” I said, repeating my words from when I stripped her on my desk. She didn’t know what that meant, and perhaps one day, I would have the strength to tell her.
There were so many things she didn’t know, things I could tell her soon, and then there were things sheshouldn’t know. About me, the Matthews, the Romanos…this whole damn bullshit game we'd caught ourselves in.
She trusted me, and I was starting to trust her.
I killed in front of her, for fuck’s sake.
Her and I…we could do this.
Her burner phone began ringing, shocking us both. There was only one number that should be allowed to call her, and that wasmine. She stilled in my arms, not meeting my eyes.
Letting her go, I rounded the bed to snatch the device off the bedside table.
Caller I.D: Maybe Dean MFing Connors.
My eyes darted to my angel, who was clutching the towel to her chest as it rose and fell rapidly. “Seems I'm being shut out too,” I murmured before answering.
“Dean. To what do I owe the pleasure?” I drawled, turning to face a painting of a city skyline that faced the bed.
The sting of her betrayal hurt worse than the fucking beatings I had taken over the years.
His rough, cocky laugh rang in my ears. “I can’t wait to kill you.”
“That would require catching me first, Connors.”
“Cut the shit, Stevens. Put Kay on the fucking phone,” he ordered.
His words filled my ear, but my eyes wanted to look at her, to see if her eyes were filled with regret or satisfaction.
My jaw tightened. I had been a fool, blinded by her light. I had let myself hope—
Hope was a fool’s feeling.
Hope was what killed Jay Gatsby.
He hoped that Daisy could love him as he wanted to be loved.
He held on to that hope and got shot in the fucking back for it.
Karina was my Daisy.
Everything was so much clearer now.
My head turned to find her sitting on the bed, her bottom lip trembling as she stared up at me. Turning my body to her, I reached out to stroke her jaw.
“Why would I do that?” I taunted the baseball player.
