Page 30 of Dare To Live

“But you’ve had them, right?”

I grit my teeth at the accusation in his tone. “What do you want me to say, Eli? Yes, I’ve dated other men since we broke up!”

And neither of them compared to you. They didn’t touch me or kiss me the way you had. They didn’t make me feel the way you did. They didn’t mark me with their teeth. Or bruise me with their fingers. They didn’t brand me so deeply that the claim is still there even though we’ve been apart for years.

“How many women have you fucked since then?”

Walking forward, he forces me to back up across the room until my back hits the wall. His hands land either side of my head, and he looms over me, lips curling in a sneer.

“Fucking. Dozens.”

Even though it shouldn’t hurt, his words slice me with the sharpness of a knife right in the chest. My heart rate picks up and the breath locks in my throat. The space between us is tense and heavy, with something … Something I don’t want to examine too closely. My arms won’t move when I try to lift them and push him away.

His gaze roams over my face, and his eyes flare with something dark and violent. A muscle jumps in his jaw.

My lips part and I half expect him to lean in and kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shoves away from the wall and walks out. I cross the room on shaking legs and close the door.

What just happened? We’d been arguing, and then something had changed.

Snatching my cell up off the mattress, I hit Miles’ number, but it doesn’t connect.

No. No. No.

Not only am I trapped in the cabin with Eli, I don’t even have the luxury of contact with the outside world.

Chapter 18

Eli

She’s not dating anyone.

I don’t know why that eases some of the tension coursing through me. It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t give a fuck what’s happening in her love life.

Or who she’s fucking.

Or who’s sharing her bed.

Or who’s making her come.

My jaw clenches, teeth grinding together.

But you do give a fuck.

“Shut the fuck up!” The words leave my lips in a snarl, and I spin and bury my fist into the wall. The artwork adorning it shakes but doesn’t fall.

I need to get out of here. Put some space between us. But I can’t even escape to my gym or studio, unless … My gaze shifts to the window.

I could climb out. I was thinking about doing it, anyway, so I can clear the snow from in front of the door. I get as far as opening the window, but when the first gust of wind hits it and slams it closed, almost taking off my fingers, I give it up as a bad idea.

I huff out an irritated breath.

Well, the bitch need not think I’m going to hide away in my fucking room just because she wants access to the rest of my house. It’s my fucking house, not hers, and I’ll spend time in whatever part of it I want.

I stalk out of my bedroom and down the hallway to the living room. There’s music playing. That fucking radio. How come that can get a signal and my cell can’t?

There’s no sign of Arabella in the living room or the kitchen. I stride across and twist the knob on the radio, silencing it, and sure enough, that action brings her out from wherever she was hiding.

“I was listening to that.”

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