Chapter Eight 106

Chapter Eight

Cleo

My freedom taunts me, at the edges of my consciousness, just out of reach. Flashing in the corner of my eye as Webber picks me up. Every touch is a caress. His warm breath curls across my skin as he drops tender kisses up the side of my neck.

And then he tosses me on Arryn’s bed, smirking. I glance at Arryn, watching his internal war play across his face. Webber doesn’t miss a thing. “Don’t fret. He’ll come around.” He drops to his knees at the edge of the bed. Hooking his hands under mine, he yanks me forward, then slings my legs over his shoulders. He rests his nose against the inside of my thigh and inhales. “He didn’t fuck you.”

My pussy clenches, then weeps as Webber exhales directly on her. “I’m sorry, sister. For both of us. I was curious to see how the two of you taste together.”

A sharp hiss from behind Webber lets me know that Arryn heard Webber’s quiet challenge. “Webber, put your mouth on me. Then give him a taste.” Webber needs no encouragement. He runs a finger down my slit, parting me. He inhales deeply, then drags his tongue up, flat and slow, lapping me up. Rising to his feet, he turns to Arryn. The two men are equal in height. Webber stops in front of him, running his hands up Arryn’s chest. Then he grips Arryn’s neck, violently yanking him forward. Mouths clashing, the kiss between them is not a dance, but rather a battle. Not to conquer, but to convince. Arryn’s hands clutch Webber’s hips, his own pressing in. I bite my lip, imaging the velvet skin of their cocks rubbing together between them. I whimper.

The men freeze. Arryn grabs Webber’s face. “I want it. But first we need to talk.” I sigh, closing my legs, and scooch back on the bed.

“Are you sure?” I ask Arryn. Webber’s brows draw together. My heart bangs about my chest so hard my ribs hurt. My pulse roars in my ears like the ocean. My next breath is almost a gasp, it’s so hard to draw.

This is it. This moment determines the rest of my life. “Webber, we have to tell you—”

“No. No!” Webber is furiously jamming his legs into his pants. His movements are jerky, his eyes wild with a shine that closes my throat.

I’ve never seen Webber react like this to anything. I leap off the bed, not caring that I’m buck naked, and rush to him. “Hey, hey, stop. I’m not going anywhere.”

He pauses, then throws his head back and laughs. “Is that what you think I’m worried about? How stupid do you think I am, Cleo?” He runs a hand through his hair. The wounded disbelief on his face hurts me so much I can hardly breathe.

“I’ve never thought you were stupid, Webber. Ever.” Fervently, as if an impassioned plea might make him believe, I speak my truth. Webber shakes his head.

“This isn’t about you leaving me. This is about you leaving Mother.”

“I can’t do it anymore, Webber. She’s killing me.” Air rushes from his nose as he shakes his head, denying my truth.

I step toward him. He backs away. My heart splits, not tearing, not breaking, but split, cleaved in two as Webber swings the axe. I drop my head, pursing my lips to exhale. Just once. Just one steady breath, to gird myself. “I would never ask you to choose, Webber. Because I love you. Nothing means more to me than your happiness. That’s why I’ve stayed this long. But I can’t…” I jerk my face back up. Webber’s shoulders are slumped, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Don’t do me the disservice of lying, my love. You knew this day was coming. You cannot will it away any longer. If I stay in her household, I will cease to exist. I love you, Webber, but what is that worth if I’m dead? ”

Arryn tosses me his shirt. I slip it on, buttoning it up to my chest. I take Webber’s hand, unable to look at his crumpled face. I know what I’ll see. Shock, disbelief, betrayal. I weave my fingers between his. “This has nothing to do with Arryn. Nothing to do with you. I want to live, Webber. She’s killing me.” I lead him out of Arryn’s bedroom, through the suite to the door. “Go home, my love. When you’re ready, use the phone.”

He steps out of the door, but whirls, grabbing my wrist. His grip is so tight it’s painful. Tears glint in the soft, low lighting of the penthouse foyer as they tumble down his cheek. “Cleo, come with me.”

“No.”

He wavers, his golden hair blurring in the ocean between us, and then he disappears.

Arryn rests his chin on my head, his arms wrapping around my body. Heat envelops me, melting some of the icy fear skating down my pain.

“He’ll be back,” he murmurs.

I do not share Arryn’s quiet confidence. “Will he, though? Do you think he can do it?”

“I do.”