Page 178 of Dare To Break

I climb to my feet, pulling up my panties and sweats, and I hurry for the open door. Head down, I pass through the gravestones toward the gate.

Why is he torturing me?

Why does he make me feel things for him if he always intended to snatch it all away?

Chapter 114

Eli

“—listening to me?” Kellan’s voice reaches me between songs. I tap stop on my music and turn in the passenger seat to look at him.

I gave him the keys to my car and told him to drive my car back to the Hamptons. I’ve barely slept and don’t trust myself behind the wheel.

“What?”

“I said, are you listening to me, but obviously you’re not.”

“I asked you to drive because I wanted to sleep. What do you want?”

“I want you to wake up and look like you aren’t half dead. We’re about ten minutes away from your house.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, Eli. Oh. What the fuck happened last night? Was she allergic to strawberries?” He slams his foot on the brakes and the car stops, throwing us both forward in our seats. “Fuck. She wasn’t, was she?”

I sigh. “No. No allergies.”

“Then why the fuck are you acting like you didn’t get some candy last night?”

I don’t answer. His eyes are boring into the side of my head, then he starts to cackle.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t fuck her, did you?” He sets the car back into motion. “It was a fucking sure thing. How did you fuck that up?”

“She called me Sin,” I mutter.

“She called you … what?”

“That’s what she calls me. She didn’t call me Eli.”

“Of course, she didn’t fucking call you Eli. She doesn’t know you’re Eli.” He glances at me. “Wait … wait a minute … oh fuck. You caught feelings.”

“I didn’t.”

“Like fuck. You totally caught feelings. You wanted her to want you, not her dirty little secret in the dark.”

He’s laughing so hard I’m worried we might crash.

“Do you think you could save this interrogation for when we’re not on the road?” I bite out.

Kellan snickers again. “Eli Travers is in love. This is fucking hysterical.”

“I’m not in love.”

He turns onto the circular drive leading up to my house. “Yes, my friend, you are.”

***

We’re greeted by my stepmother when we walk into the hall.

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