Twisted Fate (Dark Heart 2)

I grip my dick, squeezing hard—almost as hard as I’m clenching my fucking molars.

“Anyway, what are you doing up here?” She rolls over onto her side, showing off the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts under the sweater.

“Get up off the bed, Elise.”

She props her flushed cheek in her palm. “You said you bought it from my father, this place? Unless you stole it from him.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You do steal things…right?” She lifts her chin, and I can tell she’s goading me.

“What do you want?”

“I thought that’s yours to figure out. You just tried to get me to go. Is that what I want?”

“Is it?” My heart’s beating too hard.

“That’s not what I said I wanted.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to lie down with me.”

“Why?” The word sounds choked.

She pushes up on one arm, crossing her ankles in those plaid pants, and she looks at me with what can only be some sort of fury. “Because, Luca. You twisted me up. And I’m still twisted. So I want to lie down with you. You’re the same person, aren’t you? Technically?” Her tongue darts out over her lip as her brows pinch. “So I need you to lie beside me, let me…hug you.” Her voice dips so soft I can barely hear it, but I see her swallow as she casts her gaze down to the bedding. “Let me see if it still feels right.” Her eyes pin mine. “What do you think? Can you do that for me?”

What the fuck.

I spend a second standing there, trying to breathe…I guess delaying the inevitable. Because I’m going to lie down beside her. I don’t even have a goddamn choice.

I feel like I’m floating as I cover the floor space between us. I get on the bed slowly, trying not to look at her face as I stretch out on my back…then tuck an arm behind my head. When I feel her pull the blankets over me, I shut my eyes and try to think of anything but my dick.

I can smell her, too—a sort of sweetness, like shampoo or product. It’s not the perfume she used to wear—perfume I once searched for at all the counters in Saks—but she smells good, and I can feel her as she settles in beside me. I can feel her scooting closer. Then her head is on my arm, and my chest feels like it’s locked.

Fuck. Shit. Motherfuck me.

I don’t mean to turn away. I just…do. First my head, and then my hips shift. Then I’m lying on my side, baring my scarred back. I feel her shift—scooting closer or getting out of the bed?—and put a hand over my eyes. I can’t look.

“You should face me.”

I get a deep breath, let it slowly out. Turns out, the timing matters. Took me a long time to learn that how you breathe can make you feel different ways. My slow, measured shit does its job, making me feel less…like I need to fucking run.

Who would have thought I couldn’t stand to have her so close? Even so, I find myself turning back over. Slow and easy, this is no big fucking deal.

But I’m a liar, and Elise is so close. I could touch those soft lips. I could touch her cheeks. For years, I thought about how smooth and sweet her cheeks were, how I loved to kiss them, and her jaw…and that freckle there near her ear.

I start feeling fucking weirder. The way I used to feel when the thing happened. Sort of like I’m going out of my body. My pulse picks back up, like I’m going for a rocket ride, and I can’t breathe, but my eyes never move from her.

And she’s looking at me, too. Then her finger’s touching my lower lip. She’s tracing my mouth. There’s not enough air in the room. I’m dizzy as shit as I look into her eyes, and she leans closer. I’m about to kiss her, but her eyes close. Christ.

I’m looking at her long eyelashes when her tongue flicks out and touches my lip…moving like she’s tracing and…Madre Maria salvami.

Her teeth sink into my lip, sending a spear of lust into me. Then she kisses me. It’s this fast, soft, hot kiss—frantic, almost. Her hand roves down my chest, tracing my abs through the sheet, and when she curls over, leaning down to cup me where I’m hard and throbbing, I’m so fucking ready that I thrust into her palm. Elise gives this little hoarse laugh.

“I can see you want me to go home,” she murmurs, wrapping her hand around my head and moving up and down my shaft so that I can’t help groaning, shifting my hips.

Her hand closes around my cockhead, rubbing the top and then tracing the rim, and I groan loudly. I can’t fucking help it.