Fold

An unexpected cocktail of wrath and jealousy surge through my blood. It's all I can do to remain still, not put my hands around her windpipe, and squeeze until she finally shuts the fuck up.

Her lips brush my cheek. “That's what really has you so wound up right now, isn't it? Whether I want her or not...I have her. In all the ways you never will.”

Dramatics aside, the validity of her words are like a sucker punch to the throat.

A royal flush to my lousy full house.

She flicks my ear with her tongue, like the slithering snake she is. “Fu

Her fingertips dance along my thigh. “You wouldn't believe how easy it was for her to forgive me. All I had to do was tell her I was sorry and say I missed her, and poof—she was ripping off my clothes and begging to make me come with her mouth.”

My heart rate accelerates and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop the wave of lust and hatred that slams into me.

Becca, cu

I yank her hand away. “Then what exactly did you need from me?”

When her brows draw together in confusion I add, “You said it yourself—Kit's not only easy for you to manipulate, she has way more money than I do. Not to mention, she'll keep believing your lies and taking you back. It makes me wonder why you chose me over her when she was clearly the better choice for you.”

Everyone has a motive for doing the things they do, good or bad.

But that's not why I'm asking her. I know Becca well enough to know her answer to my question will be whatever fits her agenda best.

It's what I'm counting on.

As much as I wish it wasn't true, Becca's not wrong about Kit.

The fact that she accepted Becca back with open arms combined with the things she said earlier proves it.

And while I don't understand it, because love isn't an emotion I can wrap my head around. I know it's Kit's weakness.

Hell, I could go to her right now and tell her everything Becca just told me, but she won't believe a word of it. She'll either make excuses or convince herself I made it up. And that's before Becca can work her magic.

Kit's a lover. Despite being a little spit-fire, that heart of hers is as big and deep as the Pacific.

She's a good person. A good person who draws in all the bad ones like a moth to a flame.

Becca will keep siphoning whatever she can out of her until there's nothing left of her heart but an empty space. A vacant part that no longer works.

I don't want that to happen.

I don't want her to keep giving all she has to offer to someone who doesn't appreciate or deserve it.

And as much as I wish it was me who could be that someone, I know it won't ever be. It can't.

Not only because she's a lesbian, but because me and Becca are more alike than I care to admit.

Which means I need to do this now before it's too late.

If I don't, she'll not only continue being Becca's pawn, but she'll also earn herself a spot on my hit list of people I use when it's convenient for me to do so.

Unfortunately, there's only one way to permanently take those blinders off her for good.

My own fucked up theory of utilitarianism.

I have to smash her heart into a million pieces in order to protect her and hope that when she puts it back together, she'll remember the lesson without being too jaded to ever fall for someone again.

Someone better than the bitch in front of me.

I cup Becca's cheek. “You go

She's so surprised by my touch, she startles. “Isn't it obvious?”

I shake my head and something flashes in her eyes.

For a moment, I fear she's not going to give me the answer I'm anticipating. The one I'll need in order to do this.

I soften my gaze and run my thumb over her bottom lip. Lure her into my entrapment.

She closes her eyes in pain briefly and if I didn't know any better, I'd almost believe the next words out of her mouth.

“I really loved you, Preston.”

A tear falls down her cheek. It's impressive how good of an actress she is. Maybe that's where she should set her sights next.

“You were always so distant and cold, and I knew you didn't feel the same about me, but I didn't care. I still loved you.” She looks down. “I slept with a guy I shouldn't have right before we started dating. Looking back, I should have told you, but I didn't think it mattered. Not until I saw two lines on a pregnancy test.”

This isn't a conversation I want to be having. Not because I have any lingering feelings for her, but because of the ones I still have for the child she's carrying.

I don't know what to do with these leftover feelings for a baby that's not mine. Where exactly are they supposed to go?

Agitation locks my jaw and I have to remind myself not to fall into the obvious trap she's setting out for me.

“I should have told you then, but I wanted the baby to be yours. For a while, I honestly thought he was. And the more time that passed, the more I convinced myself of it.”

Her lips pull tight. “Then you brought up having a paternity test again and I got scared because I knew I fucked up by not telling you in the begi

The pain in my chest is so sharp I damn near keel over.

Not because I believe her. I don't. If she was sorry, she would have come clean about the possibility that he wasn't mine. She wouldn't have tried to blackmail me into marrying her.

If she was truly sorry, she would have called me right after she received the paternity results. Not run off to Kit to ensure she not only hurt me but also had a backup plan.

No, the girl standing before me with crocodile tears in her eyes isn't sorry, and she most certainly doesn't love me. I'm pretty sure she'll never comprehend the concept of something so unselfish.

Not that I'm much better, but she crossed lines I never would in her quest to get what she wanted.

Until now.

I bring my other hand to her face and bridge the distance, kissing her gently. Showing her far more kindness than I ever have in the past. Far more than what she did to me warrants.

She's too taken back by my gesture to return the kiss at first, but then she does...and my stomach recoils.

If she tastes another woman on my lips, she doesn't say it when she pulls away. “What was that for?”

“I'm going to ask you this once and once only, got it?” The acrimony in my voice has returned.

She nods, looking wary. “Okay.”

“Me or her? And I suggest you choose wisely because I won't be giving you another opportunity.”

She looks at me in awe. “You.” She scrunches her face. “I thought you hated me.”

I do.

“You thought wrong. Hearing how much you love me and how sorry you are—”

“I do love you. And I am sorry,” she interjects, placing her hand on my chest.