Twisted Love (Twisted #1)(97)

By now, my cheeks were the color of the cranberry sauce on the table.

I adored Missy. I met her a week ago, when Alex and I arrived at her and Ralph’s Vermont farm for an extended Thanksgiving weekend, but I immediately took a shine to her. Warm, friendly, and down-to-earth, she baked a mean pumpkin pie and had a penchant for raunchy jokes—and raunchy personal stories.

This morning, out of the blue, she asked whether I’d ever had a threesome—I hadn’t—and I’d nearly sprayed orange juice all over her cherrywood table.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Missy patted my arm, but the spark of mischief remained in her eyes. “I’m just so thrilled Alex is dating. I’ve known that boy for years, and I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he does you. I’ve always said he just needs the right woman to open him up. He was wound tighter than a Victorian corset.”

I leaned toward her and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Honestly, not much has changed.”

“You know I can hear everything you’re saying,” Alex said dryly.

“Good. I was afraid l wasn’t loud enough.”

His eyes narrowed while Missy burst into laughter. Even Ralph chuckled as I flashed a cheeky smile.

“Sunshine, you being loud has never been an issue,” Alex said in silky voice.

My mashed potatoes went down the wrong pipe, and I erupted into a fit of coughs. Missy’s laughter morphed into outright cackling. Poor Ralph turned bright red, muttered something about the restroom, and fled.

Once I got my coughs under control, I glared at Alex, who remained unfazed. “I’m talking about the volume of your voice during conversations, of course.” He raised his wineglass to his lips. “What did you think I meant?”

“I have a feeling you won’t be hearing my voice during conversations for a while,” I huffed.

“We’ll see.” He sounded infuriatingly smug.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone while I fetch Ralph.” Missy chuckled. “Poor thing is a lion in the bedroom but a blushing kitten when it comes to talking about sex in public—directly or indirectly.”

That was something I could’ve lived the rest of my life without knowing.

After she left, I glared at Alex. “See what you did? You drove our hosts away during their own dinner.”

“Did I?” He gave an elegant shrug. “Might as well take advantage of the situation. Come here, Sunshine.”

“I don’t think so.”

“That wasn’t a request.”

“I’m not a dog.” I took a defiant sip of my water.

“If you’re not in my lap in the next five seconds,” Alex said in the same calm voice. “I’ll bend you over the table, rip off your skirt, and fuck you so hard Ralph will have a heart attack from your screams.”

The bastard was crazy enough to do it, too. And I must be equally crazy, because my panties dampened at his words, and all I could think about was doing the exact thing he’d just threatened.

Alex watched, eyes heated, as I pushed my chair back, walked over to him, and climbed into his lap.

“Good girl,” he purred, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me toward him until my back pressed against his chest. His arousal nestled against my ass, and my mouth turned bone-dry. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I hate you.” I would’ve been more convincing had the words not come out so breathless.

“Hate is just another word for love.” He slipped a hand beneath my sweater and cupped my breast while trailing a string of fiery kisses down my neck.

“I don’t think that’s right,” I said, caught between laughing and moaning. God, his hands and mouth were magic.

I shot a furtive glance at the doorway to the dining room. Missy and Ralph were nowhere in sight…yet. But the possibility of getting caught made the whole thing hotter—I was so wet I was afraid I’d leave a noticeable spot on Alex’s pants when I stood.

“No? Ah, well.” Alex nipped my earlobe. “Close enough.” He cupped my chin with his other hand and turned my face so I looked back at him. “Did you enjoy this week?”

“Yeah. It was the best Thanksgiving I’ve had in a while,” I said softly.

I felt guilty because while all my Thanksgivings with Michael were tainted, I’d spent the holiday with Josh last year. He’d flown to London, and we had a blast stuffing ourselves with food—restaurant-bought because we didn’t know how to cook a turkey—while binge-watching British dramas. But I’d been unsure about my feelings for Alex, and Josh had been pissed at his ex-best friend.

He still was.

When he found out Alex and I were back together, he lost his shit. He wouldn’t talk to me for weeks, and even now, our conversations were strained. Josh stayed in D.C. for his residency, so we still lived in the same city, but he refused to see me if Alex was there. He’d ignored all of Alex’s outreach and seen through my schemes to help them patch things up. I’d invited him to celebrate Thanksgiving with us, but as I’d expected, he’d declined.

“I do wish Josh could’ve made it,” I admitted. I missed my brother.

“Me too. But he’ll come around.” Despite his confident words, a small furrow creased Alex’s brow. He didn’t say it, but I knew he missed Josh too. They’d been as close as brothers.