Page 80 of Merciless

He hums as he looks at the moon. “It is. And it’s pink.”

I grin. “You know what that means?”

Elijah turns his gaze to me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“The pink haze is a symbol of rebirth, or to bloom newer and better things. The spiritual meaning is to set intentions and let go of things that no longer serve you.”

“You really believe that?” he says.

I shrug. “I guess.”

“And you believe tonight is the night to set intentions?”

“So they say. What do you want, Eli?”

His eye twitches. “I thought we’ve been over this before.”

“I don’t want to fuck you.”

He smirks and shakes his head. “No, I mean you calling me Eli. I want to hear my full name from your lips.”

I swallow hard and avert my gaze.

He chuckles and plays with a lock of my hair. “You get flustered so easily. Just how many men have you been with?”

“Nope.” I duck past him and stride toward his car. “We aren’t discussing my sexual experiences.”

“I’d love to know.” He catches me by the arm and spins me around to face him. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s tight, like he’s covering his annoyance more than anything.

“How many women have you slept with?” I say.

“That’s not what we’re talking about.”

“Isn’t it? You want to know how many men I’ve slept with, so it’s only fair I bring up your sex life.”

I can’t stop the mental image of a naked, sweaty Elijah fucking someone else. A toss of jealousy and lust mix together inside me, confusing the ever-loving shit out of me.

Me? Jealous and turned on by Elijah?

The world has to be ending.

“How many men have you slept with, birdie?” he murmurs.

“Why do you want to know?”

He steps closer and drags his fingers down my arm to thread with mine.

“Are you a virgin?” His voice lightens into a teasing tone, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“No,” I say, keeping a straight face and hoping he believes me.

Elijah Astar, a spoiled rich boy who expects the world to bend over backwards for him, wants to know if I’ve slept around. He’s the playboy.

Maybe I haven’t slept with anyone, but I’ve done other things. He doesn’t need to know that, though.

The garage door opens—my saving grace. A car’s engine purrs to life before the Porsche rolls out and stops beside us. The beautiful shade of deep green glitters beneath the stars.

The tinted driver’s window lowers, and Asher rolls his sucker to the other side of his mouth. His gaze drifts between Elijah and me.