Twisted Desire (The Twisted Series)

by Christa Simpson

He turns back to her and raises an eyebrow, taking in every curve on that body. She shares an equally as suggestive glance, once she’s stopped next to him. He can’t waste the opportunity.

  “I don’t do this often.”

  She cuts him off, not much caring what he has to say. “Am I supposed to feel special?”

  “Can I get your number?”

  Aliah delivers him a slanted smile of her own. “No. I don’t give out my number.”

  “Can I give you mine?”

  “Why? So I can do a background check on you?”

  Harley laughs at that. “I’ll take that as a sign that you like me.”

  She smirks at him, both of them finding it difficult not to respond to each other with upturned lips.

  He pulls a business card from his wallet and pushes the leather fold back into his pocket. Before giving her the card, he rips his number off the bottom and stares at it. Then he stuffs the larger half in his pocket and hands the small piece over to her.

  She reaches for it, but he won’t let it go. Their eyes meet for a heated second.

  “I never give out my number.” His intensity appears to thrill her, but she can’t help but sass back.

  “That’s why you have a business card. And I’m not even entitled to see the entire card. That’s cool.” She stuffs the scrap of paper into her purse.

  “Allow me to rephrase.” The depth of his tone captures her attention. His heart starts racing. “I never give my number out to a woman because I want to sleep with her.”

  His boldness seems to turn her on. He loves how her skin grows warm whenever he makes a lewd comment, but the color of her face remains a soft white. His words are meant to test her, to see if his sexual advance scares her off. If not the words, then maybe the oversized bulge in his pants. But it doesn’t.

  Now he’s truly intrigued. He wonders what it’d be like to have her peel his jacket off him and skim her hands across his skin, looking up at him like he’s a sexy slab of man, the way she is now.

  His lips slant into a smile that is sure to melt her panties. “Are you going to call me? If you’re not, then you might as well give that back.” He points at her bag where the scrap of paper is tucked inside.

  She turns her bag away from him, as if he might try to take it back if she made it too easy for him. “I’ll get back to you on that, as soon as I have a chance to check you out.”

  “Ah, shit.”

  “What’s wrong? Do you have something to hide?” Her voice sounds coy and it’s very sexy on her.

  “Nothing you’ll find.”

  Aliah steps closer to him and lowers her voice. “Is there a shady history you don’t want my superior investigative skills to uncover?”

  Her confidence actually has him a little on edge.

  Is she onto me?

  Hiding that from his features, Harley brings his face right to hers, until their noses are nuzzled and his breath is rushing over her lips. “A little mystery never hurt anyone.”

  After a brief pause, with her full lips urging him to kiss her, he decides it might be fun to turn the tables on her. “What would I find if I looked you up, Ally?”

  Her eyes look up into his, like a lost little girl, and yet he refuses to release her from his determined gaze. She looks terrified by the knowledge that he uses her nickname, and yet she doesn’t stop him, as his hands swipe down either side of her head. He clutches over her hair and holds it firmly against her throat, toying with her air supply.

  She should have been terrified, screaming for help. But instead he finds her swallowing another moan.

  “Tell me to stop,” he says, reading her eyes. If she doesn’t, then he’s not sure he’ll ever find the control to. When she doesn’t, his fingers magically loosen their grip, as he dusts a kiss over her lips. He doesn’t want to hurt the girl, even if she could use a lesson in submission.

  “Why did you call me that?” Her voice is hoarse, and even that is sexy.

  “I heard a guy in there call you by name. The bartender who has the not-so-secret crush on you.”

  Her gaze turns cool. “He doesn’t have a crush. We’re friends. He’s seeing someone else.”

  Harley brushes a rough thumb over her throat. When she holds her breath, it cuts off her air, just long enough for her to feel a slight bit dizzy, but no less excited.

  “He wants more.” His eyes flicker down between them, and he takes an eyeful of her exposed flesh. “I can’t blame the guy. Look at you, all packaged up for my viewing pleasure.”

  “You like that?” she asks, urging him toward his more devious pleasures.

  “I’d like it more if I could unwrap that.” He flings her long hair over her shoulder. “I want to have a better taste.” He licks at his lips, like he’s warding off an uncontrollable hunger. “I want to see if you taste as sweet as you look.”

  She pants and he wants nothing more than to pry that bra off of her so he can bury himself in those swelling breasts and drag his tongue across her entire body. He’d like to discover her all over, just the way his deep voice promises. He edges closer to her mouth and descends on her lips.

  Aliah expects him to play rough, and he does. He tugs her close and flattens her against his hard edges. His hands dig into her flesh, in stark contrast to the softness of her lips, as he teases her with a sensual assault that is sure to wet the girl’s panties.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Aliah hasn’t kissed a single man since Hunter Wight. Sex? Yes. Kiss? No. But with her blood boiling with lust for this man, she accepts his advance, knowing that she will live to regret it. He takes her in his strong arms the way she’s only dreamt of a man taking her, and he kisses her.

  She catches how her eyes have fluttered shut, and the way her rapid breaths are making both her head and heart scatter. Then he releases her, suddenly breaking all contact between their bodies.

  “Think about it.” His words echo through her mind.

  Oh, she will.

  It will be a miracle if she thinks about anything else, after that.

  Harley turns away and her eyes flutter to that ass. She watches him wrap a powerful leg over his seat and start up his motorcycle. It’s a shiny black Harley. And it’s new. A real man’s man kind of ride with all the fancy chrome details.

  He sears her with a glance, as he takes off on his sexy machine. She stares after him, long after he’s gone.

  Holy shit. I think I’m in love.

  Her panties feel like they have been incinerated and he has barely even touched her. She imagines what it would have felt like if he had.

  That exchange rolls through her mind again and again, until Mitchell hands Aliah her purse and explains that it’s time to go. She heads home, but when she enters her front door, she wonders how she’s gotten there. The only other thing that runs through her mind, again a flashback of everything that is Harley.

  After a night of erotic fantasies, all staring the mysterious Harley, Aliah tells herself that she has no choice but to return to the bar. She wants to get in those pants, but she doesn’t want to look desperate. She manages to claw her way through the weekend, until Thursday night returns. She doesn’t call him, but it’s not because he’s not on her mind. He’s all she thinks about.

  Instead of continuing to live in her fantasy world for another week, she calls up Mitchell the next morning and suggests that he needs her for another night. He can’t say no, still being short-staffed. She pulls out her old uniform and dusts it off. She’s always loved the cute plaid skirt that Mitchell makes all his waitresses wear, even if it is borderline skanky.

  By day, she works for criminal defence lawyer, Joshua Bailey. Once the clock strikes five, Aliah rushes straight home and spends the next couple of hours spoiling her body after a rigorous workout. She gets all done up in a low cut black shirt with short angled sleeves and the fitted plaid skirt that is much too short to be considered appropriate. Luckily, she isn’t going for appropriate tonight.

  When she waltzes int
o Riley’s, fashionably late, she realizes it’s all for nothing. Harley’s not even there. She wants to bitch slap herself for getting her hopes up. Aliah Brooklin does not get her hopes up for a man. She’ll be more careful in the future to detach herself from such feminine stupidity.

  Later in the evening, when Mitchell asks her if she can help out on Saturday night too, she declines. She needs a some time to recuperate from her disappointment. But when he calls her again Sunday morning, practically begging for her help, she can’t leave her friend hanging.

  Mitchell assures her that Sundays are slow, but the summer must be an unpredictable time. The bar fills up, until it becomes steamy and uncomfortable. The air conditioner is on full blast, but the steady traffic at the door ensures that it will never catch up. Aliah tries desperately to avoid the evil eye continually scanning over her from the blonde in the corner, but she loses the battle.

  What is that girl’s problem?

  Brandee Hawkins is one jealous girl. Aliah doesn’t know how her modest Mitchell has ended up with such an envious girlfriend, or what Brandee’s deal is these days, but it’s clear she has issues. For Mitchell’s sake, Aliah’s kept her mouth shut, but Brandee just begs to be told where to shove that look.

  To top that off, nasty scum bags hit on her all night, until she starts to recall that most men are total pieces of shit. Harley being number one on her shit list. He was obviously just stringing her on. And she let him. She now realizes his implied intention to screw her brains out was but a false dream. She only wishes she can stop fantasizing about it.

  Aliah’s relieved when the drink orders are all filled and she has a second to herself. As the pace slows, Aliah clears the empty bottles from the bar, wipes it down, and sets out to prepare herself a thick milkshake. She hunches over the bar and sips from it, purely out of exhaustion. Her lips are puckered over the straw, but her eyes still remain latched onto the front entrance of the place.

  She notices Harley the second he walks through the door. It’s hard not to notice something so sexy. Has he come back for her? Did he look for her another night? Unwilling to wait for the answers, she instantly abandons her drink to pay him a visit. She walks right up to him, struggling to contain her giddiness and keep up her bad girl attitude.

  “Back again?” She smiles, even though she warns herself not to.

  “Back again.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  Now he’s the one smiling, teeth and all. “Now that depends…”

  “To drink. What can I get you to drink?”

  Harley chuckles and it gets to Aliah. She doesn’t get flustered easily, but this guy just turns her crank in a really good way. She really wants to keep him smiling like that.

  He glances over at the bar where she was hunched when he’d arrived. “What are you drinking?”

  “Oh, you saw that did you? It’s not on the menu.”

  He follows her to the bar and when she catches him raping her legs with his eyes, she needs a drink to cool off.

  She brings the straw to her lips and, without thinking, speaks. “Look how thick and smoothie it is.”

  That makes him smile. Now he can’t take his eyes off her mouth. A bit of her milkshake coats her upper lip. Her tongue darts out to get it, with parted lips. His eyes seem to warm at the sight. She chews on her bottom lip craving more of the attention he has to give. The temperature in the room suddenly feels like it’s spiked another ten degrees.

  “Hello!” a fat man hollers from across the bar. “Can I get a drink in this place, or what?”

  Aliah crinkles her eyes and winces. “Excuse me.” She knows exactly who is messing with her. She walks over to where Big Roy has landed and begins to fan her face.

  Harley eventually finds a spot at the bar at the opposite end from the fat man. Aliah holds onto the beer and gives Roy a pointed glance. “I didn’t hear a please on the back end of that question, Roy. You aren’t getting anything until you use those manners.”

  “May I please have my drink, beautiful?” Roy answers.

  Aliah slaps at him, and when she plunks his beer in front of him, it splashes over the rim of the glass. “Don’t call me that.” She stares at the bottom of her shirt, now soaked in beer.

  “You used to love when I called you that. Is little Ally all grown up now?”

  Aliah glances up, just in time to catch another slutty barmaid tending to Harley. “Yeah. Something like that,” she mumbles. To say she was disappointed would be a mega understatement.

  Seeing Harley chatting with the other girl only makes her remember that she’s not about to bend over backwards for anyone. Hard to get is the way she rolls. It’s always worked for her in the past and Harley, whatever his last name is, isn’t getting any special treatment, starting now.

  Rather than return to Harley’s side and interrupt his little conversation, Aliah keeps her post and tends to the other gentlemen waiting for assistance. When she gets caught up, she helps out the waitresses by taking a few plates out to diners, in order to keep herself busy.

  With every glance in Harley’s direction, her body heats two degrees. Within minutes, she’s sweltering, even though she’s wearing very little. Without any other option, she lifts her shirt over her tiny waist and ties it in a knot just below her breasts, exposing the black flames that lick across her hip. Then she moves to sweep all her hair up and off her neck.

  When she takes another discreet glance at Harley, she sees that his eyes are zoned in on her midsection, his mouth slightly open, like it’s watering for another taste of her. She lifts her chest and flaunts her rear end, accentuating the sharp curve of her waist.

  She’s unwilling to take her eyes from him first, but he doesn’t look away. She wants to scream out.

  Oh My God, he’s sexy!

  She swallows, relieved when the cook hollers out to her. Aliah turns for the kitchen, tearing her eyes away, and takes a much needed exit from the room. When she’s in the privacy of the kitchen, she doubles over, and presses her hands against her bent knees.

  She’s never reacted like this to a man.

  When the cook slides a couple of plates onto the counter, he gives her a funny look. “Everything okay?”

  She doesn’t answer, realizing she has to go back out there already.

  “Aliah, could you please take this to table eight?” He speaks a little louder this time, as if she’s not heard his last question.

  She takes a deep breath and smiles, despite the butterflies taking flight just beyond her bare midriff. “I got this,” she answers.

  Aliah takes both of the plates and props them on flattened palms. Using her butt, she pushes open the kitchen door, to enter the main room.

  “Coming through. Hot stuff,” she hollers, with a plate lifted over each of her shoulders.

  Harley instantly glances towards her, and she nearly tumbles onto the floor, just barely catching herself on a table and managing to not spill the dishes on the impatient customers.

  How does he do that?

  The way he looks at her is intoxicating. His eyes are insinuating that she is hot stuff. There is no need for words. Suddenly it feels like her skin is flaming, and it’s not from embarrassment.

  What is wrong with me?

  She rocks shoes this tall on a daily basis. It’s kind of her thing. But Harley has her stumbling over her own two feet. When she returns to the bar, Harley calls her over with a lifted hand and curled fingers. She can just imagine what else he can do with those fingers.

  Trying to push that thought aside, she clears her throat and acts like he hasn’t just caused her to make a scene. His eyes skim over her body. He’s showing her that he wants it.

  Welcome to the club, buddy.

  He licks at his lower lip, nibbles on it and looks down at her with hooded eyes. “When are you working next?”

  “Actually, I don’t work here,” she blurts, catching herself mid-sentence.

  “Shit. You’ve been here waiting tables for the
past two weekends. You actually expect me to believe that?”

  “Believe it. Because it’s true. I’m just helping out a friend.” She points back to Mitchell, but Harley only seems to catch the evil eye the blonde bitch standing next to him shoots their way.

  “She looks really friendly,” he mocks.

  “Brandee is Mitchell’s new girlfriend. She’s harmless. She only looks scary.”

  Harley chuckles and flashes another peculiar glare at Brandee. “I should get going."

  What is that all about?

  “Okay, then.”

  He walks away without another word, but he doesn’t make it far. Some guy stops him to talk, and suddenly it looks like he has all night to chat.

  “Rude much?” she mumbles to herself, a little disappointed that their nightly bantering had to end so soon.

  Roy, the regular, who is nursing his fifth beer, lifts his head to talk to Aliah. “You don’t want to get involved with that one, beautiful. He’s trouble.”

  She nods her head in agreement, watching him. She knows Harley’s trouble. But she likes it.

  “Aliah!” Mitchell hollers, from the storage room door.

  Aliah twirls around and hurries toward the kitchen. “Coming!”

  She gives Mitchell a hand and finishes with the orders. By the time she finishes wiping down the bar, she notices Harley is gone.

  Aliah watches the clock after that, for what seems like hours. It feels like time is ticking backwards. She knows that the bar is open until two, but it’s practically abandoned by one o’clock. As the long hand creeps closer to the twelve, everyone leaves the place except for Roy; and he seems to be hanging around only to keep her company.

  After cleaning the place up, Aliah throws the rag onto the sink. Mitchell walks up behind her.

  “Looks good,” he says, acknowledging the visible effort she has put into tidying up the dining room.

  “Thanks. Do you mind if I get going?”

  Mitchell tilts his head and smiles. “Sure. Of course. Thanks, Ally. You’re a good friend.” He reaches out to hug her, not noticing the murderous glare coming from his girlfriend behind him.