Twisted Desire (The Twisted Series) (22 page)

What is she so afraid of?

Harley pulls his hand away.  “You’re fine, Aliah. 
I’m not going to say it.”  He sounds a little disappointed.  That’s
because he is.

“Say what?”  Now she’s playing stupid.

“I won’t say that I’m falling in love you.  Not until
you’re ready to hear it.”

His heart has never thudded so loud and fast in all his
days.  He can see that she is very uncomfortable having this conversation. 
But too damn bad for her.

“You’ve been hit,” she says, noticing the way he favors his
left side.  She reaches out and lifts his shirt, running a finger just
above his melted flesh.  “The bullet’s only grazed your skin.”

“Yeah, but it hurts like a mother-fucker.”  The flesh
wound will heal.  It’ll take a little longer for his heart to recover from
this rollercoaster ride.  Harley’s never felt more fear than that moment
when he thought Aliah had been shot.

He instantly takes her hand and tugs her back to his
motorcycle.  He only hopes that it’ll still run.  Harley rights his
bike and tries to get it started.  It stalls out on the first try, but
with his next attempt he finds success.

“Where are you taking me?” she shouts, over the roar of his
engine.

He doesn’t look at her, but then again it wasn’t up for
debate.  “Away from here.”

Why does he make her feel this way?  She’s not allowed
to feel.  She doesn’t need something to lose.  He doesn’t even tell
her where he’s taking her.  It’s so infuriating, but it’s of no use to
fight him.  Harley is a big boy.  There’s no winning with him. 
He can cheat the law and lie all he wants and he acts like there’s no one he
has to answer to.  That attitude is going to stop today.

He drives for what seems like forever, then he turns into an
average, run-of-the-mill hotel parking lot.  She’s sure now is as good a
time as ever to ask him what the hell is going on.

“Who are we running from?” she asks him.  “It’s obvious
that you know.”

“I don’t.”

“Who do you
think
it is then?  And why do we
have goons after us?”

“Those goons you’re talking about, I’m afraid to say this,
but they’re after you.”

“What?”  Her voice is shrill.  What a ridiculous
suggestion.  She hasn’t done anything wrong, unless being fabulous is a
crime.  “Who?”

Harley removes his key from the ignition.  “Brandee Hawkins.”

“I keep hearing this girl’s name.”  She isn’t very
happy about it.

Aliah is reminded, with a sharp pain in her side, how Harley
has been seriously lying to her all this time.  First, about his
name.  Then, about his daughter.  And now about the investigation. 
It’s obvious there’s something he’s not telling her.  Is the investigation
truly over, or is he still pumping her for information?  Their entire
relationship is a sham.

“What’s the first thing that comes to mind when I say the
name Brandee Hawkins?”

He’s tried this once before and it didn’t work.  Why
does he think now is going to be any different?  He’s the one who lies.

“That bitch who hired you to stalk Mitchell?  I thought
that was over.  You told me the case is closed.”

“And it is.  But I fear that she’s found someone else
to replace me.  She doesn’t believe I’ve done a very good job.  She
thinks that you’ve worked your wiles on me now too and, since it’s true, I’d
have to agree that maybe I’m a little biased in your favor.”

“What do I have to do with this?”  Aliah feigns a
pout.  “We haven’t even discussed the whole of it yet.  I know
there’s more to it.  I feel unsafe in my own home.  You said you’d
protect me.”

“You’re still sitting here, aren’t you?”  Now he’s
acting smart.

She usually swoons over his confidence, but now it’s just
annoying.

Aliah rolls her eyes, then makes eye contact with him. 
“You really think it’s her?  I feel like there are eyes all over me. 
It’s only gotten worse.  Why would Brandee have anything to do with this?”

Harley glances around the parking lot, suddenly in a hurry
to get her inside the hotel.  “Let’s go.  We can finish this
conversation inside.”

He gets out, rounds the hood and is opening her door in a
matter of seconds.  He makes a grab for her arm, but she yanks it out of
his grip and stomps off ahead of him.  With his long strides, he keeps up
with her rushed pace with ease.

In the lobby, they’re greeted by a receptionist sitting at a
computer desk.  She is illuminated by a bluish light shining from her monitor,
making her skin look even more pale than it already is.

“Good evening.  Do you have reservations?” she asks
them, ogling the filth covering their clothes, but making no comment on it.

“No,” Harley answers gruffly.  “Give us whatever room
you got.”

By the way he’s acting, Aliah wonders what it is he’s seen
in the parking lot.  They had stopped at his house to exchange his bike
for an SUV, but he’d insisted there was no time for a change of clothes. 
Has someone followed them?  She just wishes he would be honest with her.

The woman smiles at Aliah and thoughtfully poses her next
question to her.  “Are you looking for one bed or two, hun?”

“One,” Harley answers.

“Two,” Aliah insists at the same time.

Harley looks frustrated, but glances back at the woman,
seemingly unprepared to argue about it at the moment.  “Two.”

It’s really for the best.  Aliah figures she’s probably
better protected without her silky thighs rubbing up against his hard muscular
legs all night.  She wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off of him and he
can’t say no to her.

“Okay, then.  Maybe I’ll give you two another minute to
discuss that.”  She turns to walk away, but Harley stops her.

“No.  Just make it two.  Please,” he adds, making
his tone sound no less urgent.

Aliah smirks.  Harley’s trying his hardest to remain
pleasant, but both ladies can tell that it’s forced.

The receptionist gets her fingers tapping away on her
keyboard.  “Uh, oh.”

“Uh, oh?  Why, uh oh?” Harley says.

“I really am sorry to say this, but we’re all booked up for
the queen rooms.  There’s only one room left this evening and it’s the
honeymoon suite.”  Her face takes on a pained expression, knowing how
Aliah’s going to react to that.

“That’ll do,” Harley answers, without turning to Aliah for
her opinion.

That certainly isn’t going to stop her from adding her two
cents.  “Whoa, wait.  We are not staying in a honeymoon suite. 
Have you lost your mind?”

“Have you, Aliah?  We’ve searched this City high and
low.  There isn’t another room available for miles.  We’re staying
here.  So suck it up, buttercup.”

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?”