Twisted Desire (The Twisted Series)

by Christa Simpson

  The woman interrupts again and, by the look on her face, Aliah knows it isn’t to deliver good news. “Unfortunately, this room only comes with one bed. Would you like me to send up a cot?”

  “Is there a couch?” Harley barks, even less pleased with her now.

  “Yes, sir. But it is no problem for me to send up a bed.”

  “The couch will do. Thank you.” He slides his credit card toward her and she processes the transaction before handing him a key. He lifts the two black bags, one in each hand, and storms past Aliah to get onto the elevator. She puckers her lips and follows after him with a scowl plastered across her face.

  Neither of them comment about the extravagant elevator or the decadent room when they enter it. In the instant that the door closes, he drops her bag to the floor with a thud and secures the room. He opens up the only closed door in the place besides the bathroom and scours it, to make sure the suite is clear. Lucky for her, he didn’t find a boogie man under her bed.

  Within a matter of seconds of his approval, Aliah hears water spraying behind the closed door.

  Good, maybe that will get him to cool off.

  While Harley showers, Aliah slips out the patio door, to check out the view from the Juliet balcony. The air is fresh and the night is quiet. The sky is decorated in a hazy collection of golden stars. She takes a deep breath when she hears the water stop. She waits for Harley to join her on the balcony, but he doesn’t.

  Deciding to be equally as rude, she makes a bee line for the bathroom. It’s rather easy for her to slip past him unnoticed, with him pacing the living room and shouting into his cell phone. He’s consumed with anger, and she’s just happy not to be on the receiving end of it. The room is steamy and she locks that heat in before she removes her clothes.

  Even with the water pounding against her head, she hears when Harley ends his call. She hollers out to him, to make sure he knows how it’s going to be tonight. “The bed is mine! I called it,” she informs him from the en suite bathroom.

  After combing her fingers through her clean, wet hair, Aliah heads straight for the living room where she expects to find Harley on the couch. She denies herself the admission that she’s looking for him, but he’s nowhere to be found. She huffs, angered by the thought of him leaving her in this situation, and decides to call it an early night.

  She retreats to the bedroom, closes the door and presses the lock so he can’t try any funny business if he’s feeling a little frisky later. When she spins around to approach the bed, she’s faced with a minimally clothed man in an incredibly sexy pose, that seems to accentuate every agile muscle and highlight all of his tattoos.

  A whimsical canopy hangs over the bed and Harley’s lying inside it, like a tattooed present waiting to be unwrapped. She begins to wonder if she has died and gone to heaven. Maybe she’s at home, asleep in her own bed, and she’s only dreaming. Either of those scenarios would be too lucky for her. Her voice cracks when she speaks, giving away her not-so-secret delight.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Just because you called it, doesn’t mean you get to make all the rules.” The slant of his lips only encourages her.

  “Harley, I’m not kidding. Get out of my damn bed.” She folds her arms over her breasts, which are covered only by a very small towel that refuses to cover both her chest and her thighs at once.

  “Make me.”

  Using her powers of persuasion, she lightly parts the white, fluffy towel and lifts a knee onto the mattress, as it drops to the floor behind her. She slowly crawls toward him, leaving her resolve outside the canopy, as her legs slide over his thighs.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, sounding very intrigued.

  Even she doesn’t know! She wants to be mad at him, but he looks so God-damned delicious.

  “Claiming what’s mine,” she states, with a raspy breath. She means to claim the bed, and he knows this, but the electricity flashing between them blinds the particulars.

  He taunts her as she inches closer to his lips. “Come and get it.” He flashes her some teeth and she loves every quirk in his expression.

  Though she wants to smack that sexy look off his face, the need to have him thrusting inside her wins out. She cups a hand around one of her breasts and swipes a thumb back and forth over a large aroused nipple to tease him. She only ends up turning herself on more.

  His hand covers over her, as his gaze locks onto hers. “I’m waiting.”

  She watches every twitch of his lips. She wants to taste him, but it goes against everything she’s promised herself. He reaches up for her face and cups her cheek to draw her closer. He leans in to kiss her and she makes to bury her face in his neck. He smells fresh and masculine, her desire only growing more impatient with her.

  The pulse in his shorts isn’t helping the matter, growing no less hard by her avoidance. He seems to take it more as a competition than a denial.

  She reaches inside his briefs, glancing down as she does, pulling him out and wrapping her small hand around his large endowment. She wants to put that smooth thing in her mouth but she doesn’t want to give him the impression that she wants to please him. She’s still mad. Instead, she decides to take what she wants and please herself. She takes his full length in one slow descent. He groans, feeling how perfectly they are fitted for each other.

  “So sweet,” he growls, holding himself deep inside her, by clinging to her shapely hips. “Make-up sex has never felt this sweet.”

  Aliah covers his mouth with her hand and stifles a moan before explaining it to him. “This is not make-up sex. This is me taking what I want.”

  “You want me.”

  “I want sex,” she corrects, manipulating him to move in and out of her.

  “With me,” he adds, not allowing her to fully immerse into her fantasy where all is good, there are no lies and loving him is okay.

  She holds him deep inside her and squeezes onto him. “Just shut up; will you?”

  The pressure alone has her insides twitching against his swelling cock. She squeezes onto him again. He feels so hard, and his groan is so strangled that she wonders if he’s already going to blow. She wishes he will, so she can find her own relief, since his hesitation seems to keep her on the brink of ecstasy, without allowing her to find it.

  Harley closes his lips and drives into her, slamming her away from reality. She moans wantonly, expressing how grateful she is for his efforts. He doesn’t let up, tightening every muscle in his amazing body, holding himself there. When his finger brushes her pussy, she comes undone on top of him in a spiral of pleasure. His eyes are alight with satisfaction, as he follows seconds later, lifting upward from the magnitude of his orgasm.

  After a breath is caught, Aliah opens her eyes. Harley snares her lazy gaze for an electric moment. She pulls away from him and rolls aside, pressing her eyes closed. Why does he always have to make it so personal? She feels her emotions churning, like a train chugging uphill. It’s only a matter of time before she reaches the top and has nowhere left to go but crashing down.

  Harley doesn’t speak as he takes her hand and pulls her to the bathroom. They share a steamy hot shower that is completely functional. After smoothing the soap over his sweaty chest and between her thighs, he draws a finger up and down her spine. Harley kisses the part of her neck that becomes exposed when she rolls her head to the side.

  There’s something affectionate about this moment that Aliah refuses to admit. But letting Harley wash her, tenderly caressing her body out of affection rather than desire, has her head swimming. She wants to deny that she needs it, but it feels so right; much like their relationship, despite all of its setbacks.

  Aliah turns her face into the water and gives it a good scrub. She opens her mouth and breathes, though fully submersed in the spray. When she opens her eyes, she notices the flesh wounds marring Harley’s otherwise magnificent body. She makes to check the place where the bullet has grazed his side, but he jumps from her
touch. He plays the tough guy, but she wants to see who’s hiding beneath all that muscle and pride.

  She leaves his war wounds alone and massages soap across his shoulders and down his back. Once they’re both rinsed clean, Harley turns off the water and breaks the extended silence, as if he’s just then been revived from a life-ending orgasm.

  “That was unbelievable. I didn’t realize I could cum like that without making a single move.”

  Aliah smirks, flaunting her beautifully naked form as she dries her hair with a bath towel. “Anything is possible with me, sweetheart.”

  Harley chuckles. “It sounds like you’re stealing one of my lines.”

  “So you’re feeding me lines, are you? What’s next?” She doesn’t mean for the conversation to turn serious, but he instantly closes the distance between them until they’re but a breath away from each other.

  If she closes her shocked lips, they’ll be kissing his.

  It looks like he has something important to say, but he freezes. An uncanny silence ensues. His eyes become glued to hers.

  “Someone’s here. Keep your mouth shut,” he whispers.

  He holds up a finger and listens some more, until the door handle to their suite jiggles quietly. His voice is low and raspy. “Follow me, and stay close. We’re getting out of here.”

  He wraps himself with the towel and raises his gun as he peers out of the bathroom door. He waves her forward and she immediately runs to the black bags he’s packed for them. She forgoes panties and covers herself with a clean shirt and a pair of jeans with zippers slanting across the legs.

  Harley reaches his bag, after a few quick strides, and stuffs some of her things into it, including their shoes, quietly kicking the rest of her things under the bed to rid the room of evidence from their visit.

  He covers himself with a pair of jeans and high tails it out the balcony, after ushering Aliah out first. She tries not to notice the flex of his muscles as he helps her over the railing, but she can’t, even in the dire circumstances. She jumps to the ground and stumbles backward when the bag lands next to her. Harley hurls himself over the edge of the railing, as a single blast shatters the glass door behind him.

  “Run!” Harley shouts, as he covers her.

  She races to his black SUV, as lights flash in the darkness around them. Rather than rounding the hood, Aliah opens the driver side door and dives into the passenger seat. Harley climbs in behind her and has them squealing out of the parking lot before she even has a chance to snap on her seatbelt.

  They don’t speak while they’re on the road. Their salacious habits have obviously been getting them into trouble lately. They would be smart to keep each other’s bodies off the menu from now on.

  Aliah watches Harley pull out his phone and glance in his rear-view mirror. He doesn’t ask for help, or look to her to explain what the hell is going on. She listens to him phone a friend. A few of the comments stick with her.

  “I need a favor,” he says at first.

  After an extended silence on his end of the phone, he adds, “It’s an emergency. Please?”

  She hasn’t exactly known Harley for long, but what she has noticed is that he’s not one to beg. To hear him pleading makes her realize the severity of this situation. Aliah listens carefully and soon realizes it is a woman on the other end of the line. She strains to hear the woman’s response.

  “Well, if you’re using your manners with me, it must be important. You know where the key is.”

  A flicker of jealousy shoots through Aliah’s veins like a poisonous feed straight to her heart. She feels like a mute piece of candy, as she lets him drive her wherever he may. She has no idea where they’re going and she has no idea what they’re doing. She only wishes she could return to some semblance of normalcy.

  If this situation, as it is, doesn’t resolve itself soon, Aliah worries that there will not be a job for her back home when she returns.

  Harley flashes a glance at Aliah, as he turns down a long gravel road that seems to go on forever before it takes a bend and trails perpendicular to the shore of the lake in a narrow, single lane. There are ditches on either side of them; ditches much too deep to drop off and survive.

  On one side of the road, all you see is cornfields. The stalks are already battling her for height. The other side of the road is covered in brush, except for a random clearing to expose the beauty of the lake hiding behind it.

  As Harley pulls up to the house at the end of the lane, he glances at her again, suddenly feeling the need to explain himself. She had been too scared to ask.

  “A friend owes me a favor. This is her vacation home.”

  Her.

  Aliah’s jealousy doesn’t fade. If anything, it hacks at her chest harder. She swallows her breath, trying not to feel the wariness seeping into her veins. A cold sweat sweeps across her entire body. Her limbs are limp, but she has to pull it together if she’s going to stand her ground. She doesn’t respond to him, but he keeps on talking.

  “If someone has followed us, we will know it.”

  But there is no one coming up behind them and even if someone has, the sight of Harley’s oversized shotgun will be enough to scare any man away. The yard is eerily silent, except for the waves crashing violently against the break wall and splattering everywhere.

  Harley opens up the house and refuses her entry until he’s searched the darkness for intruders. Then he orders her to come in and takes another survey of the yard surrounding the house. He secures the door and drops their things to the floor, now jammed into the one bag. He rummages through the cupboards looking for something edible and sighs. There’s nothing. He turns to look at Aliah with raised brows.

  “I have to go into town. There’s nothing here.”

  “I’ll come with you.” She already feels a sharp tension in the air. She doesn’t want to be alone.

  “It’s not safe. You’ll stay here.”

  “I don’t feel safe here, Harley. Please don’t do this. Forget about the food for now. Just stay,” she pleads.

  “You’re starving and dehydrated. I should have never invaded your privacy. You could have used the rest.”

  “Don’t say that. If you hadn’t joined me, there’s no saying what could have happened back at the hotel.” Her voice is now soft and helpless.

  When he cups her face, she closes her eyes and he strokes her cheek with his thumb. “I promised I would keep you safe, right? No one will find you here. Will you stay? Please?”

  As if he isn’t already pushing all of her buttons, he adds, “For me?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Harley makes it to the grocery store in record time, but something nags at him the entire way there. Aliah had agreed to stay back, but her pleading had very nearly killed him. She needs food. There’s no doubt about that. He feels responsible to keep her safe, but he can’t bear to watch her starve.

  Although he is certain she’ll be safe at the beach house, he relies on his sharp instincts and only picks up the bare minimum. The late-night patrons are in his way and the cashier takes much too long, stopping to chat about stupid shit he obviously could care less about.

  After he loads up his trunk, he checks his phone. Aliah hasn’t tried to contact him. Figuring she isn’t too interested in talking to him right now, he pulls out his laptop. Every time he’s pulled out the thing, Aliah’s gotten all fidgety and nervous. But there is some serious work that needs done, and he can’t live another minute until he’s got something.

  He returns to the hotel parking lot to collect evidence, not expecting the gang of police officers to hassle him with questions when he gets there. He feeds them a story that he and his lady friend were out when the shooting took place and, lucky for him, the intruders had taken care of the security cameras to corroborate his fictional story.

  Harley doesn’t like the way Spencer Caldwell watches him, brooding from afar. He wonders if Caldwell too has a thing for Aliah. Focusing on the task at hand, Harley glanc
es casually at the ground. Fresh tire tracks show that there were two vehicles there. One set looks bolder than the other. They look awfully familiar, but he doesn’t tell the cops that.

  He’s certain the new set of tracks come from a GMC pickup truck. He’s seen those very same tracks printed across his office parking lot over the past few years.

  “Jillian.”

  Harley rushes back to his vehicle and makes a call to a buddy who works in a similar field. He asks him to look up his assistant at this ungodly hour to see if there’s any way he can make the connection between her and Brandee Hawkins. Harley recalls the time Jillian first met Ms. Hawkins. Jillian knows the girl, there’s no doubt about that. But he doesn’t expect what he finds out, while sitting in the hotel parking lot.

  There are no birth records in the name of Brandee Hawkins. Harley’s always known the police have been monitoring Brandee, but he didn’t know she is living under an alias. He opens the library’s records online and searches the local high school’s annual year books, dating back to when Aliah was attending there. Once he narrows the search, he scrolls through the pages for something to catch his attention. His eyes grow wide when he finds a single photo that puts it all together.

  Without a doubt, this girl is a murderer. A quick Google search of Brandee’s maiden name brings up horrendous results. Though never convicted, it is a fact that three of her boyfriends have strangely gone missing, only to be found murdered under mysterious circumstances shortly thereafter. It’s all there in the newspaper articles. He reads one himself, as vomit pools in his throat.

  He’s been so wound up with his desire to claim Aliah that he’s dropped the ball on this retainer. He always does a background check on his clients before taking on a case. But this one seemed so simple and Aliah was a case he didn’t want to give up for extenuating circumstances.

  He skims to the bottom of the article to find out the result of the heinous accusations. The families have all pointed fingers, but no one has been able to prove her guilt... And now she has an unhealthy obsession with Aliah.