Twisted Love (Blinded Love Series Book 3)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  “Holy hell.” I exhaled, my bones soft as Play-Doh.

  “Fuck, that was hot,” he mumbled against my skin. “Now I’m going to want the taste of you on my tongue all the time.”

  After the way he just made me feel, I would probably let him. My body still quaked with the aftershocks, all the sensations raining down on me with every second I was back on earth.

  “I hope your mom is an extremely heavy sleeper.” He kissed my stomach as he moved up, hovering over me. He licked his lips, his gaze penetrating and hungry, chopping at the final pieces of my armor. “Because I think my neighbor heard you.”

  Overwhelming emotion hit so strong and sudden, I jerked my head to the side, my lids blinking rapidly. I couldn’t stop a tear from sliding down my cheek, humiliation burning under my skin. Why was I crying? How fucking embarrassing.

  I tried to push away from him, shame flipping to anger and disgust.

  “Stevie,” he said my name softly, not shifting off me. “Look at me.”

  “No.” I shoved at him again. “Move.”

  “Stevie.” His hand slid up my neck to my jaw, his touch guiding shivers over my skin. Every muscle trembled underneath him. I wanted more.

  Emotion rose up into my chest like bubbles, twirling around my heart, but I shoved them back into the void.

  No. I slammed the door to it. Never that. Two more tears trailed down my cheek. “Get off me, Ape-boy.”

  “Stevie.” He shook his head, his fingers trailing down the side of my face, his thumb brushing away the tears. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to let out the sobs forming in my chest.

  Vulnerability.

  Weakness.

  “Look at me, Gypsy,” he whispered. “Please.”

  He pleaded again before my lashes lifted to his request. For a few beats he just stared at me, making me feel exposed and terrified, forcing me to wade in the emotions. Strangely, he made me feel protected. Safe. Maybe I wouldn’t drown in them.

  His hands slid up my jaw as he leaned down, claiming my mouth, breathing me in with a hungry kiss.

  One brush of his lips and I forgot everything, wanting to lose myself in him again. My body came alive, desperate and craving more. My nails scraped down his back, releasing a deep guttural noise from his chest. He scooted us higher on the bed, our mouths turning fierce, his massive erection rubbing against me.

  “Chris,” I groaned, curving into him, needing him inside me. I missed the feel of him, how high he could take my body. The boy was beyond master level. Since parting ways, I had been unconsciously comparing everyone to him in bed, and so far, no one measured up.

  “I need to fuck you so bad.” He dragged himself over me, my nerves crackling with electricity, making my head spin. “Jesus, Stevie, I haven’t been able to think of anything else for two fucking years.”

  “Me neither.” The words hissed from my lips, my defenses down to nothing. My hand moved over his perfect ass, pressing him into me. “Don’t make me wait two more seconds.”

  He grunted into my ear as I continued to taunt him, positioning myself, ready for him, my nails skating over his pert ass.

  “Nothing’s changed?” He gritted between his teeth, his back muscles flexing under my touch.

  “No. Clean and on the pill.” I brushed my mouth over his, lost in the bubble of lust.

  “Same.” He stared down at me, his huge body looming over mine.

  “Not once?” I asked, knowing he’d know exactly what I meant.

  “Not once since you.” His brown eyes were almost black in the dark room, but I could feel them burrow into my soul.

  “Me either…” I whispered, another realization hitting me. Another thing Tarzan had above anyone else. Neither of us ever had sex without condoms. Ever. We both admitted it was our number one rule. Except with each other. Nor did we bend that rule after we parted ways. What did that say? He had been the only person with whom I wanted no barrier. After him, I had become even more of a stickler for protection.

  Fear squeezed at my chest, as I saw all the things I had never seen before—the differences between Chris and every other person I had been with. The barriers around me felt paper thin around him, my soul on display.

  “Gypsy?” His gaze still dug into me, slicing at my shields.

  My legs gripped his hips, twisting us with force, tossing him on the bed. On top, my hands pinned his arms to the bed, looming over him.

  A smirk ghosted his mouth, his eyes telling me he knew exactly what I was doing. Why I responded the way I did.

  Dominant position. Taking back control.

  I didn’t want to think about it, nor did I want him to either.

  I leaned down, capturing his mouth aggressively, grinding into him. Our desire flared like gasoline on a bonfire.

  Hands. Mouths. Biting. Nipping. Sucking.

  I lifted up, positioning myself, his hands clutching my hips. Lowering myself down, I cried out.

  “Fuck. Fuck.” Chris’s head curled into the pillow, fingers digging deep into my skin. I knew there’d be bruises, but I felt nothing but unfiltered pleasure. Pleasure…so much pleasure. My lungs tightened. It was almost too much.

  While I had not forgotten how amazing sex was with him, close to two years without had clearly dimmed my memory because there was no way I could have walked away from this. Ever.

  “Jesus, Stevie.” A vein strained in his forehead, his hips tipping up into me, coercing a moan from my lips. He thrust up in thorough, measured stokes, driving all sense from me.

  Our clipped heavy breaths filled the room, challenging the crickets and light breeze outside my window. The electricity he sent through my body made my head feel hazy, like a passenger in my own body. My chest heaved, producing noises that were no longer in my control.

  Chris sat up, pulling me into him, his mouth finding mine. The change in position sent a column of beautiful fire up my spine.

  “Holy shit.” Chris grunted, his hands moving back to my hips, pounding me faster against him. “I never can get enough.”

  “Never stop fucking me.” My head fell back, his mouth moving down my throat, nipping down my chest.

  He didn’t respond, but his intensity elevated. My body burned, clenching around him, feeling my orgasm coming fast.

  A deep guttural sound rumbled from his throat. He rolled me off him, his large hands seizing my waist, and twisted me around, placing me on my hands and knees. He clutched my hips, kneeling behind me. Desire charged in my body, my hands gripping my bedframe.

  Slamming back in, a jumble of incoherent words spat from my tongue, my body already responding to his brutal intensity. Any reasoning I might have had splintered into tiny fragments, scrambled into nothing like a channel with no cable connection.

  I knew I wouldn’t last much longer, the peak barreling toward me. I never wanted this feeling to end, but at the same time I couldn’t stop myself from chasing after it. Wanting it so bad.

  He leaned over and rubbed my core. I cried out, shattering around him. Chris let out a deep growl, slamming in so hard, another orgasm tore through me. My muscles shaking, I collapsed onto the bed, Chris landing on top of me.

  Every sensation hit me like I had been pushed against an electrical fence, shredding through my senses floating me out of my body.

  Relief.

  No pain. No darkness. Just happiness and peace.

  What I had been searching for since that night.

  We laid there, coming back to our senses and catching our breaths.

  “Holy…fuck.” Chris’s husky voice spoke into my ear, his body still half covering mine.

  I peered over my shoulder at him, nodding in agreement, unable to talk.

  He grinned down at me, then kissed me.

  “Stevie?” My mother’s voice called from the hallway. Light flooded the seam below the door.

  “Shit.” I hissed. Chris rolled off me as I popped up to a sitting position, alarm leaping into my throat.

  “Are you all ri
ght, sweetie? Thought I heard you crying out?”

  “Uh…y-yeah…” My eyes widened, glancing at Chris’s smirking face, then back to the door. Of course it was not locked. “I just had a really bad dream.” She knew I had nightmares sometimes, after my father passed away.

  “Or a really good, naughty one.” Chris chuckled, speaking barely above a whisper in my ear.

  I smacked him. After Dad’s death, my mother had gotten so uptight about my sexual behavior, I never brought it home, except Tarzan. It would be uncomfortable for all of us, and this was her house. She didn’t need to know what I did behind closed doors.

  “I’m fine, Mom. Go back to bed.”

  “You sure, sweetheart?” I heard my door handle wiggle.

  “Yes!” I shouted, desperation made me sprint for the door, grabbing the handle so she couldn’t turn it. “I’m sure. Sorry I woke you up.”

  “O-kay.” She hesitated. She wasn’t dumb or naïve. I hoped she hadn’t heard anything too incriminating. “Good night.”

  “Night, Mom.” I listened intently, hearing her steps travel back down the hallway before I let out a deep breath.

  “Bad dream?” Chris laughed, laying on his side, a cheeky grin on his face. “You know she didn’t buy that for a second. Not the way you were screaming and moaning.”

  “Shut up.” I gathered his clothes as I walked back to the bed, dumping them on the comforter. “You better go, though. She definitely won’t believe it if she hears any more noises from this room. We can’t seem to be quiet.”

  “You speak as if it would happen again if I stayed.” One eyebrow curved up, a wicked grin hinting on his face. “As though you wouldn’t be able to help yourself around me.”

  “See that window, Tarzan, I want to see you climbing through it.” Though, truthfully, I wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms.

  He moved to the edge of the bed, pulling me between his legs, sliding his hands down to my waist. Still naked, the connection between us flared up.

  He clutched my face, yanking me down until our mouths ignited together in a heady kiss, his other hand running over my ass, pulling me into him.

  One touch and my body demanded more. The time a part had only increased the insatiable need between us.

  My hands moved over his jaw and into his hair, our kiss deepening, shivers of excitement scurrying through my veins, knowing how easily this could lead to a repeat. Not that I didn’t want it. The problem was I wanted it too much. And not at all quiet.

  “Chris.” I broke away, sighing.

  “Want me to leave? Then don’t say my name like that.” His hands traveled up my sides, sweeping over my breasts. Flames licked at my skin, and I stepped back, needing space. I grabbed my tank and boy shorts off the floor, hoping if I was dressed it would dim the lust clouting the room.

  “I’m certain my mom heard enough. We’re just starting to mend our relationship, and I don’t want to hinder that.” I pulled on the T-shirt I wore to bed.

  “You and your mom are getting along? That’s great.” He got dressed, a sorrow flicking so fast across his face I thought I imagined it.

  Even two years ago, his mom was the one topic he continuously avoided. I knew about his abusive father and horrible stepmother. Even his Aunt Charlotte, with whom they lived for a while. But he would actively stay away from the topic of his mom when it came to the present.

  “Yeah, it is. She’s really starting to see how much she’s changed since Dad’s death. How closed down she’d become.”

  Chris yanked down his T-shirt, his head tilting, giving me a poignant look like look who’s talking.

  Folding my arms, I shifted on my feet, glancing to the side. “What about your mother? Are you close with her?”

  “I was.”

  “Was?” My head jolted back to him.

  He stared out the window, an impassive expression on his face. “She’s dead.”

  Crap. How did I not know this with all the time we spent together? “I’m so sorry,” I replied quietly. I knew too well how it felt to lose a parent. No “sorry” in the world could make it better. “How old were you?”

  “Fifteen.” He cleared his throat, staring down at his feet.

  “Can I ask…how?”

  He rubbed at the space between his brow. With an inhale, he moved abruptly toward the open window, brushing past me. I spun as he moved by me, watching him climb through. My mouth parted with unspoken words to stop him.

  I overstepped my bounds somehow. Of all people I should understand not to ask those things. Typically, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

  “Chris…” I walked to the window. “I’m sor—”

  “Stop, Gyps.” He stood on the ground, his hand reaching back for me. “Come with me.”

  “Come with you?” My brows furrowed.

  “Just a walk.”

  “A walk?” I laughed. He should know better than that.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and a prickle of fear coated my stomach, suddenly turning my laugh into lead.

  “Why?” My vocals strained.

  He took a step back, not looking at me, he stared off. “Please.”

  My heart halted in my chest, apprehension crushing my ribs.

  Without hesitation, I crawled through my window. He helped me down, my toes hitting the dirt and rocks, but I didn’t feel or care.

  Once again, Chris was leading me to the precipice. What if this time I fell?

  Chapter Seventeen

  The streetlights painted the pavement in a yellowish glow as we strolled down the middle of the road, the heat still soaking the air and warming my bare feet. A few dogs barked in the distance and the hum of crickets filled the sky, but most everyone was asleep during this odd time far before dawn, but way past the night hours.

  Silently we strolled down my street, an older neighborhood where every house and lot size were different. You could sense personality and individualism here, unlike the new track neighborhoods across town.

  Nibbling on my nail, I stayed quiet beside him, living in the space before you learned something that could change everything. I was 99 percent sure I didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say, but that one percent was more obstinate than the rest.

  Chris breathed in, a pained expression tweaking his mouth and eyes.

  “My mum was all I had.” His voice broke, slicing through the silence. “We lived with my aunt for many years when we first arrived in the States, but my aunt and I were never really close. My mum seemed to understand her, could get past her abrasiveness, but I never particularly liked her.” He swallowed. “Though, she was far better than what we left behind. I was only a kid, so I didn’t see how she kept us safe from my father, gave us a roof over our head and food on the table. So…I was thrilled when mum got a job, and we had to move away. It was just the two of us again. The way I liked it.”

  “What about her parents? Did they live here?”

  “No. My grandparents had died in Australia before I was born, so I never met them. She didn’t talk about them much, and I never wondered how they died. I was a kid. I figured anyone over forty died of old age, but they were pretty young.”

  I wrapped my arms around my waist, as if I needed a barrier to protect me from what was coming. My heart pattered heavily against my ribs, like I was the girl in the horror movie who should be running out the door but goes up the stairs with a butter knife instead.

  “I was a typical selfish preteen boy. It probably took me longer to notice the signs in my mum.” He looked away from me, his Adam’s apple bobbing, our steps slowing. “The shift in personality. The dizzy spells. Seizures. Sleeping all the time but still exhausted.”

  My stomach knotted, dropping like it was on a roller coaster.

  No. Please… My soul begged. Every description he said, it could have been about himself.

  “I was fourteen when she had a seizure in front of me.” He choked, his lids blinking rapidly, stopping in place. “I was so
scared. I didn’t understand what was going on. Foam was coming out of her mouth, her eyes rolled back, she jerked as though she was being electrocuted. I thought she was dying.” He squeezed his lids shut, like he was trying to block the images of what his terrified fourteen-year-old-self saw.

  I stood paralyzed, emotions sitting on my chest like each one was a block of cement.

  “It’s all such a blur now, the lights of the ambulance, the wails of the siren.” A shiver shook his frame. “But I remember at the hospital when the doctor came in, his face told me everything. I started to scream and tear apart the room, before he could even tell us. But I didn’t want him to say it. If he said it, it would make it real.”

  Chris’s watery eyes met mine, suddenly so young and frightened, all I wanted to do was hold him, but I didn’t move.

  “The tumor was inoperable, pressing into parts of her brain. He gave her only four months max to live.”

  My lips parted to speak, but nothing came out, my throat cinched closed. This time I felt separate from my body. It wasn’t from pleasure but my system’s knee-jerk reaction to pain my heart could not handle.

  “She ended up living for almost eight.” He blinked wildly, but a tear still escaped running down his face. “But I wish she hadn’t. The torture and pain I watched her go through. Every. Fucking. Day. I left school to take care of her as the chemo tore her body apart. Everything she ate she threw up. She couldn’t walk or even go to the bathroom by herself. My aunt came as much as she could, but she had a job, and in all honesty was probably glad she didn’t have to be there to watch her little sister die just a little more every day. Hell, sometimes I wanted to get into the car and run away. I hated myself for even thinking about leaving her. But I’d sit up on my roof when I finally got her to sleep and stare up at the stars and wish they would take one of us away.” A harsh sob hitched his chest.

  “Chris,” I whispered, stepping closer to him, needing to touch him.

  “What’s worse is I’d hear her wishing for it all to end so she would no longer be a burden to me. That I deserved a better childhood than taking care of her.” Chris bowed his head, and I gripped his head, running my fingers through his hair. “All she had done for me. After all the shitty stuff with my father, she got us out. Safe. And she’s the one who got cancer? She’s the one who died so fucking awful, while my shitbag father is still alive and healthy?” Chris’s arms flew out, anger and sorrow breaking over his face. “How fucking fair is that?”