Page 78 of Dare To Live

“What happened to us not being able to just go out for dinner and dancing?” She arches an eyebrow.

“I said dinner and dancing wouldn’t have made you come home with me. That was last night. This is a new day. I also said dinner and dancing wasn’t enough to turn you on. That still stands.” I take another mouthful of coffee. “How about it, Arabella? Do you think we could spend an evening together without needing to play games, or have sex, or fight?” I throw the words out as a challenge. “Or is that all we are? What was it you used to say to me?” I set down my coffee and scoop up a forkful of eggs. “Feed me. Fuck Me. Fight me? I think I’ve checked off all three. So how about a new challenge? Spend time with me. Get to know me.”

Remember how much you fucking loved me.

Chapter 43

Arabella

I tear a piece of croissant off with my fingers and try to ignore how fast my heart is racing in my chest.

He wants me to get to know him. Did I ever know the boy I’d fallen in love with?

Our lives had been messed up at eighteen, woven together with hate, sex, pain, and death.

What do I really know about the man standing before me now?

I nod. “Okay. I’ll go to dinner with you, Miles, and Ivan as friends.”

Eli’s expression doesn’t change, but I don’t miss a flicker of emotion in those watchful green eyes. “Thank you.”

“It’s just dinner. You don’t have to thank me.” I pop the piece of croissant into my mouth and chew.

“You could have told me to fuck off again.”

“I enjoy spending time with Miles and Ivan.”

“And I hope you’ll enjoy spending it with me too.”

I don’t reply, finishing off my food.

“Do you want a shower before you leave?”

“Yes,” I rise from my seat on the couch, and move across to the bedroom. “I won’t be long.”

“I’d offer to scrub your back for you, but if I do that, we won’t ever leave the penthouse.”

I stop and turn in the doorway. “Having sex in the shower isn’t getting to know each other, remember? No games, no dares.”

“I was just teasing.” Eli smiles faintly. “But you’re right. You need to get back to your hotel, catch up on some sleep, and then get ready for dinner.”

Recalling the delicious way he kept me up for most of the night, I press my thighs together, trying to quell the throbbing the memory causes. Without another word, I hurry into the bedroom and through to the bathroom. Once the door is shut behind me, I lean against the smooth wood and close my eyes.

Yesterday I hated Eli Travers.

Now, I don’t know how I feel about him.

I also can’t believe my mother mentioned grandkids in front of him. But I shouldn’t be surprised. It isn’t the first time she’s brought babies up in conversations with me.

I know that wariness is making me cautious and defensive. I’m ready to bolt, yet something keeps making me stay.

I pull open the door to the shower and twist on the water. Stripping out of the robe, I move in under the spray, and tip my face up to the cascading hot water. I take my time, linger over washing my hair, and soap myself down with a body wash that smells like Eli. By the time I step out, my fingers are pruning, and my skin is flushed.

I leave the bathroom to find the bedroom empty. Someone has remade the bed and left my black dress, panties, and heels on the mattress. I dry my hair, tug on my clothes and shoes, then go in search of Eli.

He’s in the living room, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and staring out the window at the panoramic view of the city. His expression is pensive, lost in thought, brows drawn together, jaw tight.

Spying my bag and coat draped over one of the chairs, I cross the room to collect them. “I’m ready.”

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