Page 73 of Dare To Live

“What did I do?”

“Does it matter? You got what you wanted. Yet again, I let you get under my skin and ended up in your bed. You win, Eli. You win, okay?”

“What did I win? Because from where I’m fucking standing it looks like I’m losing.” If she thinks walking away again is how winning looks to me, then she’s insane. “The one thing I can’t seem to do with you is win.”

“You proved that all it takes is a dirty text, a risky game, and a whisper or two and I’m putty in your hands. I’ll do whatever you want because you make me feel good. It’s toxic, Eli. I’m not being pulled back into your games, your dares, your fucking red and green.”

The words hit me like well-aimed arrows. She thinks it’s all a game, that I’m still the same eighteen-year-old boy trying to fuck up her life. I take a deep breath, pushing aside the anger trying to force its way out.

“If I’d invited you to dinner, would you have said yes?”

Her brow furrows. “What?”

“It’s an easy question. Would you have had dinner with me?”

“Is this another game?” She shakes her head. “I’m not doing this anymore. Put some clothes on. What happened to the boy who hated being naked in front of people?”

“He grew up.” The doors finally shut behind me. “Answer the question. If I’d come up to you tonight and asked you to have dinner with me, what would you have said?”

“No. It’s never that straightforward with you.”

“But me texting you and telling you to take off your panties and then spend a sold-out event without your underwear has you wet and desperate for my dick?”

“That’s not—” Her cheeks turn pink.

I press my palms to her face and step closer. “Think about it. You’re not interested in dinner and dancing, with a sweet goodnight kiss on the steps of your hotel. That’s not what gets heat rushing through your veins. You like the games we play.”

“That’s not true.”

“No?” I’m on stable ground now. She thinks the games are my way of having control over her when it’s the furthest thing from the truth. It’s my way of giving her the excitement she craves, that she’s always craved.

“No!”

“So, if I invited you to have dinner with me tomorrow, you’d spend the day in a constant state of arousal, anticipating the night to come?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re not wet at the thought of it?”

Her lips compress and she angles a narrow-eyed glare at me. “Of course not.”

I lower my head until our mouths are millimeters apart. “What if I invited you to dinner, and told you we’d have company?” I whisper, “What if I told you to wear a dress without any underwear underneath it? What if I gave you a little toy to wear that I control with my phone and told you I intended to play with it during dinner?”

Her lips part, eyes darkening.

“What if I told you that if you were a good girl and managed not to come at any point during the meal with our friends, I’d eat your pussy for dessert in the back of the car on the ride back to the hotel?” I brush my lips over hers. “Are you wet now?”

“It’s not normal.” A tear falls down her cheek. I kiss it away.

“It’s our normal.” I nip at her bottom lip. “Stay.”

“I don’t think I should. We’re not good together.”

“We’re perfect together.”

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip.

I use my thumb to free it. “Stay with me.”

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