Twisted Hate (Twisted 3)

We fell into a comfortable silence as I continued my massage. Jules’s skin was soft and warm beneath my touch, and her breathing evened out into a steady rhythm.

I stole a glance at her face. Her eyes were still closed, so I allowed myself to linger on the sweep of the dark lashes against her cheeks, the lush curve of her bottom lip, and the silken fan of her coppery hair splayed out on her pillow. Her brow was no longer scrunched with pain, and the knot in my chest loosened.

It was my first time seeing Jules so unguarded. It was…unnerving. I was so used to our bickering I’d never given much thought to what she was like behind all the fire and brashness.

How do you know I haven’t already?

My family wasn’t big on skiing. We didn’t have the money for it even if we were.

Jules has really…painful periods. Beyond regular cramps.

I’d known Jules for years, yet I knew so little about her. Her family, her history, her secrets, and her demons. What was she hiding beneath that fiery exterior? Something told me it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

I shifted my attention back to the task at hand and tried to reign in my wandering thoughts. “Feel better?” The words came out strangely husky.

“Mmhmm.” Jules’s drowsy affirmation elicited another smile.

My gaze drifted upward again, and heat curled low in my stomach when I saw her staring at me with a lazy, slumberous expression.

Her lips parted slightly as our eyes locked. Held. Burned.

Electricity charged the previously tranquil air and danced over my skin, which suddenly stretched too tight over my bones and thundering heartbeat.

Jules’s breathing turned erratic again. Not only could I hear her rapid inhales and exhales, I could feel them beneath my hands, and they matched the uneven rhythm of my own breaths.

She licked her lips, and God himself wouldn’t have been able to stop the X-rated images flooding my brain. Those full, pouty lips wrapped around the head of my cock, that delicate pink tongue licking up and down my length while she stared up at me with her big hazel eyes…

My hands stilled and curled into loose fists. There was no use pretending I was still giving her a massage. The only thing I could focus on was the erection straining against my zipper and hiding said erection from Jules.

It was so fucked up. She was in pain, and here I was, hard as a rock. Proof that the body and mind were incompatible more often than not.

But Jules didn’t quite look like she was in pain anymore. Instead, she was looking at me like…

Don’t go there.

“You should be good for now.” I cleared my throat of its rasp before speaking again. “I’ll bring out a warm compress so you can use it through the night.”

I stood and walked into the bathroom before she could respond, angling my body so she couldn’t see the severely ill-timed tent in my pants. By the time I came back out with the towel compress, Jules was already fast asleep.

Relief and disappointment coursed through me in equal measure.

I placed the folded towel gently on her stomach and moved her hands on top of it to prevent it from sliding off. I pulled the comforter up, turned off the lamp, and stepped into the bathroom once again, where I turned the water on full blast and let it pound the tension out of my muscles.

I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to make sense of the events of the past fourteen hours.

That morning, Jules and I had traded insults like normal, but over the course of the day, I’d willingly taught her how to ski, worried over her well-being, and given her a fucking aromatherapy massage. Not to mention, I was still harder than a steel pipe.

What the hell is happening to me?

Instead of giving in to the urge to take care of my situation downstairs, I finished my shower and changed into sweatpants.

I couldn’t jerk off to Jules, not when she was sleeping in the other room and I didn’t even like her. Then again, lust and like weren’t always a package deal.

I climbed into bed, making sure to stay as far away from her as I could, and tried to fall asleep, but my damn brain wouldn’t shut off.

Jules. Alex. Michael’s letters. Jules. My fucking erection that won’t fucking go away. Jules.

My cock pulsed harder, and a low groan rose in my throat.

This was going to be a long night.