Twisted Love: A Fake Relationship Romance (Modern Romance Book 3)

by Piper Lawson

  I trace the line of her slit, rewarded by her hiccup of breath.

  I do the same thing again, just to show her I’m in control even if I’m not.

  All I can think is that the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, the one who challenges me and looks out for me and teases me, is spread wide for me. She’s here and perfect and I want to devour her.

  I will. I'm fucking tired of denying this. We can have it, and I’ll make it so damn good she’ll say my name every time she comes for months.

  I'll make it so good, it lasts—not only the sex, but this indefinable feeling of rightness.

  I rub my thumb through her wetness and up over her clit. Daisy’s hips buck hard. I do it again and she writhes. Then she props up on her elbows to watch.

  “Don’t stop.” She catches her lip between her teeth and I’m jealous because I want to taste it, suck on it, bite it for myself.

  I lift my fingers to her lips, press them against her until she opens and sucks.

  Blood races to my already hard dick as I groan. “You’re so fucking sweet.”

  When she releases my fingers with a pop, I trace down her body, settling between her thighs. I want to feel her stretch around me, watch her squirm. My thumb rubbing her clit once more, I press two fingers where she’s wettest and watch them sink inside.

  She fists the bedsheets as I fill her. I absorb her scent, her breathy sounds, the way she writhes beneath me. There’s nothing hotter than watching the most capable woman I know make room for me in her body, and in her life.

  The stakes are more than sex.

  But tonight, I'm done holding back.

  15

  This isn’t happening.

  I’m not naked on a hotel bed, my best friend kneeling between my legs.

  If there’s a dictionary entry for hot, it’s this man, his dark eyes wicked, his tux jacket and vest off, and his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows as he fingers me.

  Today was a trip, spending time with him and feeling what it could be like between us. Feeling like all his attention was on me was a heady thing.

  Not nearly as heady as the fact that Ben is between my thighs, watching me as if I’m every filthy fantasy he’s ever had.

  When he presses two fingers right where I’m wet, the firm pressure never stopping until his knuckles brush my skin, I tremble.

  He curls those fingers and I arch up off the bed.

  “Jesus, Ben,” I gasp, my hands fisting in the duvet.

  His thumb rubs wicked circles that match the hungry expression on his face.

  I’ve never found anything as sexy as the way he’s looking at me, utterly intent.

  “I almost couldn’t let you leave tonight in that dress.”

  “It’s technically your dress. So are the other two hanging in my closet back home.”

  The grin he flashes is heart-stopping. It’s not because he knows something of his is in my apartment, but I imagine it is.

  Ben’s not in love with me. But for now, he sees me. For now, the way he’s looking at me is enough.

  I slide a hand under the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, pressing my palm to his warm chest.

  The fact that he’s spent the last decade taking control of his life made him into this, the confident, deliberate man in front of me.

  “Don’t let this go to your head, but my boyfriend’s kind of hot.”

  Ben’s mouth lowers to mine, his lips murmuring across my skin. “All the better to fuck you with.”

  Damn, I think as he claims my mouth. I’m not going to make it through.

  I reach for the buttons. I unfasten them one by one, then spread the shirt wide and run my hands over his bare chest. He’s rough ridges and smooth muscles, the contrast between hard and soft making me wet.

  Or maybe that’s the way he’s finger-fucking me.

  I tear my mouth from his as a horrible possibility occurs to me.

  “What’s wrong?” he demands when he sees my face.

  “I didn’t bring condoms.”

  He shifts off me. I nearly whine as he heads for the desk and his wallet. Ben turns to face me, holding the prize between his fingers.

  I prop up on my elbows, frowning. “Just one?”

  “I did not know this side of you." He prowls back to me.

  My hungry eyes drink in his tanned chest as he stops at the foot of the bed. If I was turned on before, it’s nothing compared to seeing him like this, about to fuck me.

  “Maybe we still have things to learn about one another,” I whisper.

  The words are out before I process them.

  But they’re true.

  So true, I wish they weren’t.

  I shove that thought aside and reach for his belt, then his pants. He’s straining against the zipper and I’m so hungry for him, I’m going to scream if I can’t touch him. Then his pants are gone and I run my palm up the huge bulge in the black fabric of his underwear.

  Ben leans in, an arm on either side of me as he lowers himself over me. “You make me like this,” he murmurs against my neck, as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

  I crawl up the bed awkwardly and he follows.

  I want all of him immediately.

  I want to draw this out forever.

  Mostly, I want to feel him inside me as soon as possible, in case we come to our senses or this building burns down or some other act of God stops this.

  But Ben seems to be on a different plan. He lowers his lips to mine, brushing once before skimming down my jaw. I arch my neck, but really, I want him in other places.

  “You wanted slow,” he reminds me.

  “Changed my mind,” I mumble, and he chuckles.

  “There’s no rush. We’ve been waiting on this a while. We can wait a little longer.”

  My throat swells, both at his surprising sentimentality and the guilt that attacks from nowhere. But words stick somewhere between my heart and my stomach, where they’re safe from his ears and where they torture me alone.

  He kisses my collarbone, my shoulder, before finding my breast again.

  I moan as his hot tongue flicks my nipple, the guilt slipping away and replaced by heat.

  “You like that.”

  My hands stroke over his chest and shoulders on a sigh. “It’s okay.”

  He squeezes my other breast and sucks hard on the first. My hips snap up so hard I might break something, except that his pin me to the bed.

  Once he’s reduced me to a writhing mess, he touches between my thighs again only to pull back, his gorgeous face wickedly determined. “Don’t come.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The first time you come, you'll do it on my cock.”

  Filthy. My best friend is filthy, and I want all of it.

  He strips off his underwear and my throat dries.

  He’s long and thick, and I can’t decide if I want to wrap my fingers around his crown and rub my thumb in the liquid beading the tip or whether I want to suck him into my mouth, as deep as he’ll go.

  Ben doesn’t seem to be on board with either plan. He’s already tearing into the condom.

  I shift to the end of the bed, swallowing as I roll it on him. His heavy breathing over me and my racing heart keep me in this. My chest tightens unbearably, but I want this so much.

  I lie back on the bed and he spreads my legs and looks at me, fascinated, as he rubs his fingers between my thighs again. He doesn’t relent, moving wetness over my clit in a languorous move that doesn’t match his shallow breathing and hooded eyes.

  The bundle of nerves is on fire and I know he’s dragging me close to the edge. I grab his shoulders in warning.

  Ben meets my gaze. His hair hangs down over his face and I want to brush it out of the way, or catch it in my hand and shove that smug face where I want it so badly.

  He hooks one hand under my knee and lifts me so I’m exposed. My breathy moan is all excitement, all anticipation. He’s not even inside me yet and I’m trembling. He rocks against m
e in a way that’s deliberate but aware, as if he knows he’s big or wants to be careful with me.

  But once he’s an inch deep, his entire body goes tense. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

  It’s a warning, one I don’t know if he issued to me or himself.

  Ben sinks into me, his determination winning out over my body’s resistance to his length and width. My nails rake his shoulders as I moan, squeezing around him.

  My knee is pressed to my boob, holding me open at an angle that makes him feel bigger, deeper, more. Or maybe it’s not the angle that’s overwhelming, and it’s the fact that he’s inside me. My best friend, the guy I’ve always looked at too long, who’s always made me smile and driven me crazy.

  He’s doing more than that now as he forces his eyes open to meet mine. They’re hazy with need and something possessive and primal. Every part of me is spasming, trying to get him out and take him deeper at once.

  “Is this okay?” He nods at my knee between us.

  I swallow. “It’s intense. I like how deep you are.”

  Ben presses his forehead to mine, his lips curving in a half smile. “I don’t hate it either. But stop moving or this is going to be over too fast.”

  It’s my turn to lift my chin and slant him a look as I squeeze him, this time on purpose.

  “Not funny,” he says on an exhale.

  “Kind of funny,” I whisper.

  He pins my hips firmly with his, catching one of my hands and pressing it to the bed. It's commanding, possessive.

  But the first time he pulls back and sinks back in, we both groan. It's so good, and nowhere near enough at once.

  Every stroke drags me higher. Him slowing the pace makes it better and worse, because I’m living for every time he fills me, and aching every time he leaves.

  His fingers brush my clit and I grab his hand away. “If you touch me now, I’ll scream.”

  Ben's slow grin takes my thudding heart and makes it swell unbearably. “Do it. I’ll personally apologize to every person in this hotel tomorrow morning for disrupting their sleep.”

  The thought should be mortifying.

  It’s mostly hot, and as he resumes his deliberate torture, I burn up.

  Eventually, even the slowest rhythm can’t keep what’s between us under control.

  “Ben…” I whisper, threading my fingers through his hair.

  His narrowed gaze meets mine and he sees what’s on my face—something fierce in my chest demands fulfillment.

  I can pretend. I’m getting good at it. But even though I don't say the words, what I feel for him is humming beneath my skin. The truth is in every line of my body, my desire in every throbbing vein.

  He shifts so he’s even deeper in me, stroking a spot that has me mindless with pleasure. I arch off the bed. Our bodies are fused together, the heat from our skin and the light sheen of sweat mingling.

  I count the strokes, grateful for each one that’s not our last.

  Three.

  His hips are unrelenting now.

  Two.

  My core is so tight I’m shaking. My hands fist in his hair hard as my shoulders lift off the bed.

  One.

  I come first. The explosion starts deep within me, but within seconds, I feel it everywhere. My breasts, my legs, my lips, my toes.

  Ben’s arms band around me, holding me so hard against him I can’t tell where one of us ends and the other begins when he follows, pulsing inside me as he groans against my ear. “D. Fuck, Daisy.”

  Even though he can’t see my smile, it’s there. Not for the way he touched me, filled me.

  For the way he said my name.

  16

  I’m used to waking up alone.

  When I blink my eyes open against the light, there’s a naked woman in my arms. Her shiny hair slips over the pillow. Her legs are tangled in the sheets, as if they were fighting but called it a draw.

  Desire shoots straight down my spine.

  I didn’t expect last night, but fuck, did I want it.

  Watching her watch me while I shifted over her, while I sank into her…

  It left me speechless.

  Her breath against my face, her nails digging into my ass, all of it left me torn between wanting to memorize every damn second in case it never happened again, and weaving fantasies of the thousand new things I want to do with her.

  Because I do. I want to spread those soft thighs when she’s trying to focus, to make her melt on my tongue until her low voice shakes.

  I want to fuck her up against the wall, let gravity show her exactly how deep she can take me.

  I want to see how wide she’d open for me if I asked her to take my cock, whether her eyes would darken with excitement at the idea of me coming down her throat.

  And I would come. Just thinking about it makes me ache again.

  Now, as my hands skim down her sides and she lets out a little sigh, my dick is rock hard and insistent against her back. I blame it on the way she smells, the softness of her skin, that I’m dropping kisses along the back of her neck and making her squirm.

  But my phone rings with one of the only numbers I let through during my down time. Tris.

  I curse and reach for it. “What?”

  “Let me guess. I’m dragging you out of bed with your beautiful girlfriend.”

  I trace the curve of her shoulder. “You owe me.”

  “It’ll be worth your while,” he says as I shift out of bed and tug on jeans, a T-shirt, and boat shoes and go out to the hall, making sure to tuck a key card into the back pocket of my jeans first.

  “Xavier’s leaning toward your recommendation.”

  I pull up halfway down the hall. “He is.”

  “Got word this morning.”

  Unbelievable.

  I explain what Holt sent around yesterday as I head down the stairs and into the lobby, light flooding the wide open space and a handful of staff and guests going about their business, and cross to the windows overlooking the front of the property, the ocean beyond.

  My gaze lands on a familiar guy across the lobby, also on his phone.

  “Did you respond?” Tris asks when I’m finished.

  “Not yet. I think I’ll let him have this one.”

  Tris is quiet so long I almost think he’s gone. Finally, he speaks.

  “I was suspicious when you told me about Daisy. You haven’t had a real relationship with a woman in forever. But you sound different. More open.”

  His seriousness has me laughing. “You’re overthinking this. I’ll see you Monday.”

  I hang up at the same time as the man across the room.

  I nod to Aiden. “If this weekend was any indication, the wedding is going to be a spectacle.”

  His face twists wryly. “Life is a series of doing things you don’t want to do.”

  “Save that sentiment for your anniversary.”

  Aiden shakes his head. “Watch out. Your girlfriend will be looking for a ring.”

  I smirk. “I don't think so.”

  “Someone always wants more.”

  His gaze shifts past my shoulder and I turn to see Daisy. She’s wearing flat sandals and a fitted peach dress that makes her skin glow. She looks fresh and clean and awake.

  “Morning, Aiden. The photographer said the photos will be back in the next forty-eight hours. I’ll have them over to you as soon as I receive them.”

  He nods and excuses himself.

  A bellhop crosses the lobby to the front doors with a cart of bags, but I’m focused on Daisy.

  She stops a few feet from me. Her hair’s still wavy from yesterday, like she brushed it but didn’t wash it yet.

  “The first boat leaves in an hour,” she says. “I want to get a workout in and I need to catch up on other client files, so I’m taking that one back.”

  I step close, shoving both hands in my pockets. “Good morning to you too.”

  She angles her chin up to hold my gaze. Maybe she’s remembering the way I f
ingered her until she writhed on the pale sheets.

  Or how she took me so deep it felt as if we were the same damned person.

  Still, my best friend looks composed and collected. “You were gone when I woke up.” Her low voice brings me back.

  “Tris called to say that my partners, in their infinite wisdom, decided I was right.”

  “Don’t get a big head.”

  I lower my voice. “I don’t remember you complaining about the size of any part of me last night.”

  A hint of color rises up her cheeks, the only response to my innuendo.

  “I’m grabbing caffeine, then we should pack.” Daisy starts past me for the station with coffee and fruit water.

  I frown after her.

  As my best friend makes herself a coffee, and another guest makes small talk with her, I can’t help thinking she’s returned to normal.

  I don’t need her to tell me last night was amazing. Unexpected. Hot as fuck. But it wouldn’t kill her to look a little more dazed.

  “There’s another advantage of us spending this weekend away,” I murmur at her shoulder as she adds cream before lifting her gaze to mine. “Tris said he wasn’t taking us seriously, but he does now because of how I’m acting.”

  She arches a brow. “Like a man who’s in love?”

  Suddenly, I’m the one who feels naked.

  Someone always wants more.

  What if that someone is me?

  “It was a joke," she says, misinterpreting my hesitation. "I’m an adult. I know last night didn't change anything."

  The words shouldn’t set me back, but they do. Last night was physical, but it wasn’t only physical. It couldn’t be when she’s been the best part of me for almost a decade.

  Daisy takes a sip of her coffee before cursing at the temperature. “We should get going.”

  But the way Daisy’s looking at me with those huge, dark eyes has me thinking of another set of familiar dark eyes. Ones that changed not only the trajectory of my relationship with Daisy, but with myself.

  I don’t want last night to be a one-time thing. But if I’m going to convince her of that, I need to get my head on straight first.