Page 91 of Merciless

I don’t know what Elijah has in mind to help me with this man who’s been texting, but knowing him, it won’t be anything good.

CHAPTER 32

EDEN

NIGHT 5 OF THE BET

Sipping my mimosa, I lean against the deck’s railing. The sun set fifteen minutes ago, turning the sky into pretty shades of orange, blue, and pink. Fireflies dance in the grass in the backyard, making the moment feel magical. The fairy lights on the railing help.

The kids play while the rest of us mingle. I’ve been doing my best to avoid Asher and Elijah since everyone else returned from the clubhouse. I still can’t look them in the eye after last night. Not only that, but Elijah now knows about the texts and some of the things the man made me do to him.

My gaze slides to him again for the . . . I don’t know how many times. I’ve lost count. Elijah ditched his contacts, and now glasses frame his dark eyes. He has no right to look that good while wearing glasses.

Scratch that.

He has no right to look that good in general.

He’s been moving closer to me, but thankfully, people stop him mid-track and keep him busy in conversation.

I’m over the guilt of being attracted to him because he’s my stepbrother. So what if we grew up together? It’s just as he said; we’re not blood. I don’t know what’s stopping me from getting with him. Maybe it’s nerves, or maybe I’m now afraid of what he thinks of me after finding out about the nighttime visits from the bully.

He sips a whiskey sour while talking with Miss Anderson, Ashleigh’s aunt, and a few other women who’ve flocked closer to him. They’re eye-fucking him, and he’s going along with it, grinning and flirting back with them. Miss Anderson is in her forties, and Elijah is twenty-two. There’s no way anything could come out of that.

I roll my eyes and push away from the railing.

It doesn’t surprise me that older women circle Elijah like vultures. I just hate the weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. Almost like jealousy, and there’s no way that I’m jealous.

My fingers tighten around my drink as she giggles and playfully slaps his shoulder, then touches his bicep. Elijah’s jaw clenches, and he shoots a glare at her before schooling his features and grinning.

But I caught it, and it’s like a tether that draws me toward him.

I squeeze past the vultures and stop beside Elijah, my arm brushing against his. He looks down at me, his gaze guarded and hard to read.

“Your father is looking for you,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

I nod. “He said it’s important.”

Elijah tilts his head, still staring at me with that uncanny expression. Before I wither into a husk beneath his brooding expression, he turns to the older women with a beaming smile that’s so fake it’s convincing.

“Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.” He raises his drink in a salute before turning and resting his hand on my lower back. He guides me away from the group of women and waits until we’re out of earshot before saying, “He’s not really looking for me. What’s the real reason you pulled me away?”

His touch burns through my shirt and into my skin, leaving behind a trail of fire that goes straight between my legs.

That damn memory of last night is getting to me more than it did earlier.

Or maybe it’s the alcohol that’s buzzing through my veins and making me more sensitive to his touch.

I quietly clear my throat. “She touched you.”

He turns his head, slow and meticulous. “She did,” he drawls. “Are you jealous, birdie?”

My cheeks heat. “That’s funny. I thought I was helping you.” I step away from him. “I’ll leave you alone.”

Elijah catches me by the wrist and pulls me into him. “Tell me the truth,” he murmurs.

“Why does it matter?”