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

by Piper Lawson

  “You?” Marc asks.

  “Known her since college. We’ve been close ever since.”

  “I look forward to getting to know her better.”

  “She’s a busy woman.”

  “She’s worth it, and I’m persistent.” He grins, and my hand clenches into a fist.

  I hate that he thinks she’s worth it. Not because she isn’t, but because he doesn’t get to have an opinion on that. “Let me get the door for you.”

  “Did I say I was ready to leave?”

  I hit the elevator button. “Nice meeting you, Marc.”

  When he leaves, I barge into her office and wait for her to hang up her call.

  “We agreed not to see other people during our arrangement,” I say once she clicks off, before she can speak.

  Strange how five minutes ago, I was feeling confused and now, it’s all collapsed to a fine point of anger and indignation.

  “I’m not seeing him.”

  “But you told him we were friends so you can dump me one day and pick up with him the next.”

  She tilts her head, clearly turning something over in her mind. “We didn’t talk about who’s dumping who. I guess when we agreed, I assumed it would be mutual.”

  It doesn’t fucking feel mutual. We’re not dating, but I’m furious.

  I know we’re in her workplace and she’s being professional and everyone can see us through these glass walls, but I don’t care. I want her to know Marc could have a thousand years with her, but he can’t give her what I can.

  Can’t be what she needs.

  I cross to her, force her to look up at me. “Tonight.”

  Daisy sets her hands on her hips, oblivious or resistant to my intensity. “Tonight what?”

  “Tonight, you’re mine. My place. Eight o’clock.”

  “It’s game night.”

  “Change of plans."

  She arches a brow. "What would you like me to wear?"

  It's not a genuine question. It's a taunting reminder I'm being a dick.

  I ignore it. "Something that matches the hardwood in my living room. Because your clothes will be spending more time on it than on you.”

  Back at the office, I commandeer a couple of associates to try to do some remediation on the potential lawsuit—making some calls, tracking down paperwork, files, timestamps, anything—that would refute the claim.

  “I hope you have plans with the gym tonight. You look like a bear,” Tris comments on his way out of the office.

  I don’t answer. Instead, I head home, shower. My hair’s still wet as I stare into the mirror. I’m not a jealous guy, but I look as if I’ve been worked over.

  Today pushed me past my breaking point. My need to prove I’m not falling for her flew out the window the second I realized she wasn’t as in this as I thought.

  I pull on jeans and a V-neck sweater, stopping next to my king-sized bed.

  Now, the fact that Daisy’s my best friend doesn’t seem like enough to bind her to me. I want to tie her to the damn bed, give her everything she wants if it’ll make her stay.

  The sound of the door has me turning.

  Daisy’s standing straight and tall in my foyer. She didn’t knock, didn’t ask permission. Just used the key she’s always had to walk into my life.

  Unlike every other woman, I’ve let her in.

  “You changed.” I take in her trench coat and heels, long legs.

  “How was your day?”

  “Terrible.”

  I feel her probing the mask I’ve put on since this afternoon. Trying to get beneath it, where I normally let her. “Tell me something good.”

  Instead, I strengthen my resolve. “My best friend is standing in my foyer and I’m going to fuck her senseless.”

  Her eyes fill with desire, but they’re conflicted. “This is about Marc. I’m leaving.”

  Daisy reaches for the door. I grab her arm and she twists away, wrenching the door open and starting toward the elevator.

  “He’s not what you need,” I growl, stalking after her. “Not now, not ever.”

  “What do I need?” She stabs the elevator button without meeting my gaze.

  The doors open, and I take a leap.

  “Me.” The shock on her face is enough to tell me I’ve said something I can’t take back. “I know you. He doesn’t. I see you. He never will. I’ve watched everything you’ve gone through to get where you are, and I’m so fucking proud of you. When you hurt, I hurt with you. And if holding you at a distance means you’ll get close to someone else, I won’t risk that.”

  She stays rooted in place as the elevator doors slide closed.

  “Stay tonight,” I murmur. “Let me prove it to you.”

  Her gaze flies to mine.

  In it, I see so many things I never asked for. Things I never thought I deserved.

  But I want them.

  The silence stretches between us, heavy and unbearable.

  I can’t say a word. I’m powerless until she steps away from the elevator.

  “Okay.”

  The single word has my chest loosening.

  She’s giving me a gift, trusting me with her, and I’m not about to let her down.

  My fingers stroke down her neck, under the edge of her coat. I unbelt it with one hand, push it off with the other. The coat slips to the floor in a whoosh of fabric.

  Under it is the nude dress I bought her. It clings to every inch of her curves, plunging low between between her breasts and ending high on her thighs.

  I trace the neckline, and her eyes darken.

  Adrenaline and something stronger flood me as I bend to pick up the coat and bunch it in one hand. I tug her back toward my doorway with the other. Once we’re inside, I pin her against the door with my elbows on either side of her head. I’m taking my time, but I’m tight enough to break.

  “What’s under here?” I run a finger along the hem of the dress, up higher, dragging it to her hip.

  A whisper of lace the same color as her skin. Expensive. Stunning.

  Fuck. I let the dress back down, knowing she’s mine to unwrap.

  Tonight has less to do with the clothes and more to do with bringing down her walls.

  I inch closer, loving her shallow inhale, the way her lashes flutter as her attention flits from my eyes to my mouth as if she doesn’t know what I’m going to do next.

  Good.

  My mouth claims hers. I kiss her firmly, reminding her this is on my terms, coaxing her open with my tongue. When she parts for me, I reward us both, deepening it.

  Daisy’s arms wind around my neck and I can’t tell her not to. I want to be closer too. I drag her hips against mine, pinning her body to the door. She’s soft and I want to explore her, conquer her, worship her. My hand rises to cup her breast, her nipple already hardening, craving my touch.

  Daisy’s the kind of woman men lose their minds over, gorgeous, challenging, responsive.

  I meant what I said before: I want to take her apart, put her back together after. I want to get inside her secrets, her fears, her dreams, the way she’s inside me.

  I press harder with my thumb, feeling the lace pattern of her bra through the thin dress. I trace circles around her nipple and she arches against me, moaning into my mouth before I switch to the other. She’s writhing against me, testing my resolve.

  I pull back to look at her. “I’m going to fuck you in this dress…”

  She sucks in a breath.

  “Next time.” I peel off the dress.

  Daisy helps, stepping out of it and kicking the fabric to the side. I take in the sight of her in stunning lingerie. Her dark nipples through the nude lace make me hard enough to fuck the wall.

  I can’t stop staring. "You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Her eyes shine.

  I skim a finger under the thin bra strap. “Now take it off.”

  She does what I ask, and before the bra hits the floor, my mouth is on her nipple, sucking h
ard.

  Daisy gasps in surprise, tugging on my hair.

  I run a hand down to the panties and slide down the front. It’s my turn to be shocked. I release her from my mouth with a pop, looking at her face, incredulous.

  I reach between her thighs, not even stripping the lace off but moving it to the side, finding her wet and completely bare.

  “I got a wax job while I was at the spa,” she admits.

  “I like it,” I say, and she hiccups a laugh.

  “Thought you might.” Her palms land on my chest as I stroke her.

  The knowledge that she doesn’t let just any guy do this to her is a trip. I feel as if I’ve had to earn her, like maybe I’ve wanted to for longer than I knew.

  The truth is, I want to imprint myself on her. It’s a male need, to want her to think of me every time she comes. But that’s not enough. Every time she comes, I want her to do it with me. If she does it herself, I want to know. To have her text me in the middle of the day when she’s turned on or thinking of me.

  I want to see her lips part and tremble, to feel her shake against me. I want that low voice saying my name as if I’m the only man she wants forever.

  I claim her mouth, kiss her slow and lingering, as if I can say it all without words.

  Except she likes words, so for her, I’ll find them.

  Pulling back, I take her hand, lead her to my bedroom, and stop her next to the bed. "I've never invited someone here. I only want you here. I want you everywhere.”

  I reach for the bedside table and hold up a strip of condoms.

  She arches a dark brow. “That should be enough.”

  “No promises,” I say, backing her into the dresser.

  I lift her up on it and she winces, reaching behind her. A moment later, she holds up the dog. “Jet’s stalking me.”

  “No cockblocking tonight.” I take the figurine from her and toss it on the carpet a safe distance away.

  I catch a second of her smile before I spread her thighs, then lower my mouth to her. Her hands thread in my hair. I love how she tastes, how she arches against my mouth.

  She’s my best friend, but she’s more than that too. Having her here isn’t strange. It’s so fucking right, like tumblers clicking in a lock.

  I drag her ass to the edge so she’s clinging for balance, and while she does, I take advantage. My fingers press inside, and she squeezes around me.

  I sneak a look up at her flushed body and face. The way she looks at me through half-lidded eyes as if the most capable woman I know wants nothing more than this moment. My tongue. My fingers.

  They’re hers.

  I make her come, memorizing every second of her response—the way she pants and yanks on my hair and moans my name.

  She’s fucking art, this woman. An expression of the best parts of being human, created for me alone to savor.

  I carry her to the king bed, her limbs languid with pleasure, her skin a warm contrast to the dark gray sheets. Daisy watches hungrily as I roll on a condom and flip her onto her stomach before positioning myself between her thighs.

  “You just want to stare at my ass, don’t you?” she teases.

  “Your ass. Your back. Your shoulders. Your waist. The curve of your tits. But mostly, I want to watch you take every inch of me.”

  I play with her soaked pussy, loving how she presses closer. “You’re so ready,” I murmur against her back.

  I grab her hips and sink inside her, one delicious inch at a time.

  From this angle, I see every inch of her curves. But it’s her bowed head against the pillow and her fist twisting the sheets that make this the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

  It might seem as if I’m control, but she’s the one who makes this incredible.

  She’s perfect for me.

  The thought drifts through my brain as I fuck her.

  “I’ve pictured you right here, in my bed.” My voice is hoarse, my hand stroking down her back.

  She turns her head, her eyes dark, hazy orbs. “Thanks for saving it for me.”

  She’s being deliberately provocative, but fuck, she’s not wrong.

  I want more. Want her to feel as helpless, as consumed, as she’s making me. “You’re tight. I want to make you even tighter.”

  I take some of the wetness from between her thighs and slide it farther back. When I press there, she stiffens, turning to look over her shoulder.

  “This okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah. It’s new, but I trust you.”

  Fuck, that turns me on.

  I want to give her an experience she’s never had.

  “Tell me how it feels.” I press against her, gently but firmly, until my finger slips inside.

  Daisy sucks in a breath. “Weird.”

  Her honesty is a turn on. So is the color of her skin, the flush that tells me she’s as in this as I am.

  “Give it a sec,” I murmur. “Then tell me if it’s weird good or weird bad.”

  I stroke my other hand up her side, teasing her breast, her nipple, until she’s arching into me.

  I play with her breast and her ass, feeling her body tighten around my cock and my finger.

  “Weird good,” she sighs.

  That’s my girl. I adore this woman even more than I did a second ago as I work another finger in next to the first.

  Her groan is sexy as hell.

  I love seeing her like this, her body spread out before me like an offering.

  I fuck her, each stroke taking a lifetime, until she pants in frustration.

  I laugh under my breath. “For a woman who said you liked it slow, you seem to be a walking contradiction.”

  “It’s not a contradiction. It’s an exception.” Her voice is rough and breathy.

  “How do you figure?” I ask teasingly as I work her over, my hips rolling as I give us both satisfaction and delay it, take it away. It’s motion and stillness, an exquisite dance that tortures me as much as her.

  “Because it’s you, and I like you every way.”

  I can’t hold back. I flip her over so she’s facing upright.

  “What’s wrong?” she murmurs. Her eyes shine, so close to mine I can see every fleck in them.

  “Nothing. Want to see your face,” I respond, positioning myself at her entrance again so I can sink inside.

  But that’s only part of it.

  Her expression when I fill her is exactly what I needed. She’s in this moment every bit as much as I am. And I’m forced to admit the truth. I want her here.

  Not only under me, surrounding me, but in my bed, in my life, in my business.

  Tris is right. I’m fucking in love with her.

  I’m not falling, I’ve fallen. Past tense.

  Now I’m here, at the bottom of some chasm I never asked for, and the most messed up part is…

  I don’t want to leave.

  I’ve never trusted anyone like that, but with her, I want to. We’ve been through it all together. It only makes sense, as much as any of this does.

  So I show her with my hands and my body. When she gets close, I kiss her deep enough to swallow her moans.

  “Say my name,” she whispers against my lips.

  I do.

  I say it once.

  Then again, and again, in time with my strokes. Every time I do, she trembles, as much from my words as my body.

  Fuck, I love this woman. How I denied it so long, I have no idea.

  But that thought chases me right to the brink as I chase her, and when she comes, shaking hard around me and digging her heels into my ass and her nails into my shoulders, I’m helpless to do anything but follow.

  When we’re finally sated, I get up and toss the condom then return to bed. She's already shifting toward the edge.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” I demand, an edge creeping into my voice.

  Daisy looks at me, caught. “Getting water."

  “Yeah, no.” I drag her back against my chest. “Anything you need
, I’ll get it for you.”

  Her eyes shine. “Anything?"

  "Name it. Clothes. Trips. Jewelry." As I say the words, I realize I mean every one.

  She pretends to consider. "Still… just the water.”

  “Smartass.” I mess her hair before leaving to retrieve a glass.

  "With ice?" she calls down the hall.

  I shake my head as I stand in my now-dark kitchen, the only light the glowing blue from my ice and water dispenser as I fill her glass.

  Fuck, this woman destroys me.

  Because she means it. She wants nothing from me except me, and I’ve never experienced that, never knew it was something I craved until now.

  When I return, I watch her drink as she watches me, her eyes full of a satisfaction I want to memorize. The moment she sets down the glass, I shift into bed and pull her back against me. She curls into me, and I settle my arm over hers, circling her wrist with my hand. The metal bracelet feels cold and harsh against the warmth of her skin.

  I unfasten it with one hand, slipping it off her, and I reach across to set it on the nightstand.

  I’m glad I’m done letting my mistake come between us when she’s been nothing but honest and open and loyal. I’m sure as hell not letting her leave tonight.

  Maybe ever.

  But before I sleep, I can’t kick the thought that a lot can go wrong in forever.

  24

  I wake from a dream of being in a workout class that doesn’t end. My muscles ache, every limb heavy as my face slides on exquisite and unfamiliar sheets.

  I should get up—the sun's peeking around the corners of the blackout curtains—but when I shift to the edge of the bed, a possessive arm bands around me and drags me back.

  “It's Saturday. You’re not leaving.”

  Ben's low growl lifts the hairs on my arms, my neck. I look into his handsome face, dark lashes still heavy on his cheeks, lips parted but with no less determination now that he's horizontal.

  “But I’m sticky.” My hand strokes up his chest and around his neck, relishing every inch of hard muscle and smooth skin before threading experimentally in his thick hair.

  “We’re both sticky." He tugs my hips against his, the hardness already there.

  I don't resist when his mouth claims mine.