Page 153

I watch her for a moment longer. Then catch up to the rest of the Reapers.

Sienna walks slowly with Caleb.

I nod toward them. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

She meets my gaze, something sharp and unreadable in her eyes. I leave them alone in the clearing, footsteps crunching on pine needles as I disappear into the woods.

Sometimes justice isn’t clean. Sometimes it’s an eye for an eye.

And sometimes, you have to break a man to make a woman whole.

Chapter 33

The forest is quiet again. Like it’s holding its breath after what it just witnessed.

“Wait up,” I say to Eli, and Caleb follows. “I just want to get out of here.”

Eli nods, understanding.

We reach the McLaren, and the guys have a silent conversation with their eyes before they get into their cars and drive off.

I get into the backseat and silently look at Caleb to ask if he’ll join me. He follows me in.

Eli starts his car and drives off.

Before I can say anything, Caleb is grabbing my face, staring into my eyes. The silent ask means everything. It meanshe chooses me, that our little mishap is in the past, and he would rather be here.

“Maya?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Done with her. Like I said, there’s only one girl I want to fuck.”

I kiss him and he deepens it, spreading my lips with his tongue. I glance at Eli, who’s staring at me in the mirror as Caleb continues to ignite every cell in my body. I can’t tell if Eli approves of this or not, but I don’t care right now. Right now, I have Caleb, and that’s all that matters.

His fingers dig into my jeans and immediately hook into me. I cry out, feeling an orgasm start to rip through my body.

“My perfect little bunny,” he moans, working me faster.

Stars explode behind my eyelids, and Caleb drinks in the sounds I’m making.

When he pulls his hands out, he sucks on them and I inhale, turned on by the look in his eyes.

Eli cuts through the silence, “Where to?”

Caleb kisses me as I melt into the seat. “Take me home, please. Now that I know the truth, there’s something that I have to do.”

The thought of telling my dad that I’m seeing not only but two of his players sends anxiety down my spine, but I’m tired of hiding and pretending that I’m not head over heels for these two.

Dinner smells like garlic and butter. Dad made pasta again, which means it was probably a long day. He always reaches for carbs when the team’s pissing him off. I set the table while he strains noodles and grumbles under his breath about missed shots and sloppy defense.

The house feels normal. Safe, and I’m thankful for it.

I sit down across from him, watching as he piles food onto our plates. He’s humming a song under his breath, and I grip my fork tighter than I need to.

He finally sits. “So,” he says, scooping a mountain of spaghetti into his mouth. “Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind?”

I blink. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at your food like you want to kill it.”