Twist Into Me

by Devon Ashley

  “Almost done.”

  “It’s getting there,” I agreed. “I think by next weekend we’ll actually have this place ready to go.”

  “So are you ready to quit for the day?”

  “Yes. I’m exhausted.”

  His lips softly kneaded my neck, the bottom of my ear. “Not too exhausted, I hope.”

  Amused, I shook my head and shifted within his hold to face him. I couldn’t stop smiling when he leaned down to join our lips. My insides still warmed when we kissed, my body still hummed when he held me. Even my nights were restful these days. Every night I spent in his arms was a good one, a panic-free one. Nothing ever shook me when I was with him. And it seemed to work both ways, because before I came along, he hadn’t spent too much time sleeping. Now it came easy for him.

  My fingertips trailed down his backside, over the back of his jeans and settled there. I paused mid-kiss and pulled away, looking to him questionably, but with a sweet curl to my lips.

  “You weren’t supposed to do that,” he softly told me.

  “Grab your ass?” I teased.

  “Nope. You can do that any time you like. But what you weren’t supposed to do,” he told me, reaching his hand in back, “was feel my pocket.” He produced what I already felt a moment ago: a diamond ring.

  My smile completely twisted, as I tried not to let it spread outward too far. “It’s incredible,” I said, my eyes glued to the vintage-styled ring. It had a large round diamond in the center, with two smaller diamonds nestled within heavy decorative scrolling down each side.

  “It was my mother’s.” My insides practically sighed, and the ring suddenly became the most precious thing I’d ever seen. “And this moment was already going to be awkward enough because someone doesn’t have any rings lying around that I could size so I could have this ready to fit. Seriously, cut a guy a break and buy at least one to leave in the jewelry box even if you’ll never wear it.”

  I pursed my lips together and choked on the silent laughter that was moving my throat and chest. Even my eyes were getting in on the laughter. “Um…sorry? I guess?” I was never one for lots of jewelry. I had a few necklaces and a couple pairs of earrings I liked to wear and that was it. Rings were something I was never into.

  But I was definitely into this one!

  “Can I see it?” I asked, my hand sweeping up front in hopes to reach for it.

  He was quick to pull it away. “What? No! Not now. It’s no longer a surprise! Tomorrow you’re going to go get your finger measured, I’m going to get this ring sized, and then you’re going to wait for however long I choose before I offer it to you.”

  I made a dramatic whining noise in my throat.

  “Don’t even try it.” He tucked the ring away again. “I’m immune to that.”

  I still threw him a pouty lip before laying my head against his shoulder. And even though there wasn’t any music, our bodies took to swaying in place. His hand reached out to hold mine, and his head leaned against the top of mine.

  “So would you have said yes?” he asked.

  Defiant as ever, I sassed, “If I don’t get the ring tonight, you don’t get my answer.”

  I tipped my head upward, bringing his face extremely close to mine. Our noses lightly grazed. “So it’s going to be that way?”

  “Guess so,” I teased back.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine,” I echoed.

  Neither one of us could contain our goofy grins, even once our mouths came together. Our lips moved up and down in the gentlest of dances, and I couldn’t help but smile when I heard Nana in my head, going on and on about needing to twist until we fit just right. Guess that adorable old biddy was right. And I was pretty sure I’d forever hear her voice in my head, telling me, I told you so.

  Thank you for reading Twist Into Me. Word of mouth is so important when it comes to sharing books. Please consider leaving a review at the platform you purchased this book from, at your favorite review site, such as GoodReads, or at social sites like Facebook.

  Devon Ashley is a mom, a lover and a fighter, a coffee addict, a wicked knitster, a Microbiologist, a baker of fine yummy treats, and someone who will fight you to the death for that last Twinkie bag of M&Ms during the zombie-apocalypse. Seriously, her addiction is that important to her. Oh, and she says seriously way too much. Seriously…

  Nearly

  New Adult Romantic Suspense

  Nearly Broken, One

  Nearly Mended, Two

  Nearly Undone, Three (Coming 2016)

  The Sleepers’ Coalition

  New Adult Romantic Thriller

  Sparrow 59, One

  Untitled, Two (Coming TBA)

  Waiting on my Reason

  New Adult Romantic Suspense

  Waiting on my Reason

  Falling

  Coming of Age Contemporary Romance

  Falling in Between, One

  Falling Away, Two

  Falling Upward, Novella

  Of Dust and Darkness

  Young Adult Pixie Fantasy

  Dust, One

  Stardust, Two (Coming 2016)

  Ashes & Dust (Coming TBA)

  The Immortal Archives

  New Adult Urban Fantasy

  Ordained, One

  Metamorphosis, Two

  Catacombs, Three

  Hollow, Four (Coming TBA)

  Deliverance, Five (Coming TBA)

  Links above are for GoodReads and Amazon US. For additional buy links, release dates and general stalking, please go to author’s website.

  Keep reading for a sneak peek of SPARROW 59 (Book 1 of The Sleeper’s Coalition).

  The spy world gave her a partner in life, a purpose. She just never realized the man who had her back would be her undoing.

  Members of the CIA’s specialized team Sparrow, who investigate specifically into black market deals involving stolen medical research, were all murdered in one quick sweep. Drew and Samantha, team five-nine, have been more than just partners since their academy training days. Safeguarding their secret tryst from everyone in their professional lives, they trust no one but themselves. But when Samantha finds herself suspiciously spared and Drew missing, she doesn’t want to believe what the CIA claims – that Drew is not only alive and has defected from their secret division, but is facilitating the deaths of prominent research developers worldwide. Now the only member of Sparrow who hasn’t been killed off, Samantha finds herself under serious investigation by association – and a prisoner within her own home.

  Just when she’s on the verge of being labeled a murderer and traitor herself, Drew activates a beacon only she can see, taunting her from across the world. He knows she’s watching, and she knows he’ll be gone forever if she doesn’t oblige his silent request. With nothing left to lose and everything to gain, Sam goes rogue to track him down and clear her good name. But when she finally catches up to her partner of four years, he hasn’t a clue who he is or what he’s done, and the men chasing him down suddenly want to capture her too.

  Frantic yet determined, Samantha is forced to protect a man she no longer trusts in order to learn why he went astray – and why his associates are determined to retrieve them both. But is Drew really a victim himself in a much greater scheme, or will his memories prove lethal, leading Sam into harm’s way like a lamb to slaughter, ultimately risking the life of the only member of Sparrow he managed to save?

  CHECK OUT THIS SNEAK PEEK:

  Fucking house arrest. As if that wasn’t ludicrous enough, my personal effects were searched, my office computer confiscated and I had to be escorted out of the office by a military officer I’d never met before. Unfortunately, there was no down time at the office. We were a twenty-four/seven operation, even though all of Sparrow’s agents were down, so a boatload of people got to watch me do the walk of shame. I hadn’t been privy to what their work load was as of late, but either they got shifted to aid intel for another division or each and every one of them was searching
for Drew’s paper trail.

  “You got a name?” I asked of the man while we waited for his partner to bring their surveillance vehicle around to mine. He was donned in all black and sporting some pretty heavy artillery just for escorting little ole me.

  He silently stared for a long moment. Just when I decided he was going to be a mute, he coolly answered, “Johnson.”

  Johnson. A man of many words. Couldn’t even be bothered to tell me his title. Given the fact that he was mid-thirties, all muscle and his uniform screamed military, I knew he wasn’t to be trifled with. Probably already had endless tours beneath his belt that had hardened him in such a way nothing made him smile anymore. And since his ass was assigned to keep an eye on my special agent ass, they weren’t typical tours. They were the specialized kind. The ones that never made it into the books. Operations similar to mine, but more tactical – probably raids on terrorists.

  An unmarked white van with darkened windows pulled up beside us. Yeah, that didn’t scream suspicious. It would totally fit in with my middle America suburbia neighborhood.

  “Well, Johnson. I’ve already ordered my takeout for tonight so we’re making a pit stop on the way home. Do everyone a favor and keep your weapon-clad ass in the creepy pedophile van. I’m pretty sure nothing dirty is going down in the chow mein.”

  With nothing more than a frown, he turned on his heels and made his way to his ride, where a similarly dressed man in his late twenties was glaring out the driver’s side window with an equally excited expression.

  Thick heads.

  I hadn’t had time to look up where this restaurant was, so I was forced to set up the navigation to get me there. Hopefully, anyone monitoring what I did in my car wouldn’t find my use of it as suspicious. It took twenty minutes to get there with traffic, the white van making no attempt to drive anywhere but up my car’s ass like it was trying to mate with it.

  I parallel parked where there were two spots in a row. I knew if I didn’t, Johnson would be tempted to follow me inside to keep a better eye on me, and I couldn’t have that. I ignored them completely, not even bothering to turn my head their way as I made my way inside.

  The door chimed as I pushed through. My mouth watered as a wave of delicious scents of oriental cuisine washed over me. I returned the smile from the hostess as I passed by, making my way to the register, where a Chinese woman around my age was already looking toward me. “Takeout for Sarah, please.”

  She flashed me a knowing smile and bent to collect a paper bag already waiting beneath the counter. “Twenty-three fifty-six.”

  I pulled twenty-five in cash and thanked her, walking back out with my stapled brown paper bag. I had just dropped it on the passenger seat and was about to close the door when I spun directly into a man walking on the edge of the sidewalk reading his phone. But I didn’t have time to analyze the situation any further than the reddish frozen drink in his other hand, which exploded up and out the moment he crashed into me. With the door to my back, I had nowhere to go, and an intense chill slapped against my chest.

  I inhaled a sharp breath as icy slush trickled down my chest. He stumbled over his apology, completely horrified that his frozen drink was splattered between the two of us, our shirts completely saturated with a pink tinge.

  “Oh, God. I am so sorry,” he said for the fifth time. He tossed his now empty cup into the nearby trashcan and removed his jacket. I pulled mine off as well, then slung the excess fruit concoction off my button-down shirt. Even my bra felt icy, which was so disgusting.

  When he dared to use his jacket to wipe the slosh off my chest, my I dare you to expression was all it took for him to stop.

  “Please, let me fix this.” He pointed across the street. “There’s a cleaners right there. I’ll pay to have your clothes cleaned. I am so sorry!”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  He pulled a twenty out of his wallet and handed it to me before apologizing once more and walking off. I sighed heavily and began undoing the buttons on my shirt. Not surprisingly, my tank was saturated pink too. I closed my door, grabbed my jacket off the hood and popped the trunk. I always kept a gym bag in there with fresh clothes ready to go. I also had guns, which I was sure the two men behind me probably figured, watching my every move like a hawk, ready to blow my freakin’ head off if I came up with anything more than the shirt I was clearly searching for.

  With an annoyed expression, I closed the trunk and took my dirty clothes with one hand and my fresh shirt with the other and crossed the street and into Minnie’s Laundry. I laid my jacket and shirt on the counter. The worker took one look at me and said, “There’s a bathroom in the back you can use.”

  I thanked him and made my way through swarms of clothing, the air moist and steamy as the oversized metal machines ran their cycles. I pushed against the thin, creaky bathroom door, which was larger than I ever expected. What didn’t surprise me was to find Ronald sitting on the loveseat to the side of the toilet, flipping through a Woman’s Day magazine. It must’ve killed him not to have his phone to read through, but no way he was stupid enough to bring it anywhere near this building while I was in it.

  I locked the door behind me, making my way to the sink to wash off my skin with wet paper towels. Still mildly perturbed, I muttered, “At least it wasn’t hot coffee.”

  “Sorry. It needed to stain.”

  “Mission accomplished. I take it they spent the day going through my house and cars?” I said cars because Drew’s was sitting idly by in the garage, awaiting a return I began to fear was never going to happen now.

  “Yes. And most likely you’re bugged now.”

  “Figured as much given the meatheads following me in the van.” I angled my head in the mirror to lock eyes with him. “Military babysitters? Really?”

  “Not my doing. The people upstairs are taking this threat very seriously.”

  “But Drew? Come on Ronald, you know he’d never do something like this.”

  He sighed and tossed the magazine back on the cheap wicker side table. I turned to the corner to yank off my tank and pull on the clean v-neck t-shirt. “The evidence building up against him is overwhelming, Sam.”

  That got me to pause. Gloria had mentioned the same thing, but had neglected to show me actual proof. “Are we talking legitimate intel or just circumstantial bullshit like the picture of him being in France?”

  “Mostly circumstantial, but a whole collection of intel arrived showing him in the same cities the murders took place right around the time it went down. It’s not looking good.”

  I turned to face him with a glum expression, my hands gripping the ceramic sink behind me. “I thought we had nothing. Now all of a sudden proof is popping up left and right for where he’s been all month?”

  “It was anonymously fed to IA.”

  “What the fuck? So someone out there is trailing him while he supposedly kills a bunch of researchers, and all they’re doing about it is providing intel that doesn’t even put him at the exact scene of the crime? You don’t find that the least bit odd?”

  “Oh, I find it extremely odd.”

  I let go of a heavy breath, closing my eyes for the length of it. “Do you think I’m guilty of this shit?”

  “No.”

  “And Drew?”

  He pressed his lips flat, trying to forgo the frown. “I haven’t got a clue what’s going on with Drew. He’s alive, so why hasn’t he come home? Or reached out for help?”

  I nodded reluctantly because I understood where he was coming from.

  “I don’t want to believe he’s involved with these killings,” he added solemnly, “but at the moment, it’s hard to consider otherwise.”

  I whipped my tank off the sink and let it slap against my leg. I looked utterly ridiculous in suit pants and a pink cotton t-shirt that said Fenway’s Gym in dark gray letters.

  Before I could open the door, he looked to me and quietly said, “Be careful Sam. Whatever you do, be extremely careful. Stupidity will g
et them to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  I left him behind to sit in the bathroom a while longer. I added my tank to the pile on the counter and filled out the claim form. Stepping outside, I shot another annoyed glare to the two men in the van, who were watching me from across the street like carrion did a stupid animal about to cross the freeway at rush hour traffic.

  Want to read more? Go here for all buy links SPARROW 59, book 1 of The Sleepers’ Coalition.

  Table of Contents

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