Twisted Love (Twisted, #1)(80)

I closed my eyes, and for once, I allowed myself to sink into a good memory instead of a painful one.

“Sing one song. Just one,” Ava pleaded. “It’ll be my birthday present.”

I shot her an unimpressed look, even as I held back a laugh at her exaggerated pout and puppy dog eyes. How could someone so sexy also be so fucking adorable? “Your birthday isn’t until March.”

“It’ll be my early birthday present.”

“Nice try, Sunshine.” I wrapped my arms around her waist from behind and brushed my lips over her neck, smiling when I heard her sharp inhale. My quickly hardening cock fit perfectly against her ass, like we were tailor-made for each other. “I’m not singing.”

“What do you have against music?” she huffed, even as she arched against me when I grazed my thumb over one perfect, peaked nipple. I could never get enough of her. I wanted to tie her up and devour her all day, every day. The rest of the world didn’t deserve her. Neither did I, but she was here, and she was mine, so fuck what I deserved. I took what I wanted.

“Nothing against music.” I pinched her nipple, and she ground against my now rock-hard cock in response. “Just don’t like singing.”

I did it once at some stupid karaoke spot my uncle dragged me to, and I never sang again. Not because I thought I was bad—I was Alex Volkov; I could do anything—but because singing felt too raw, too personal, like I was baring my soul with each note leaving my throat. That held true even when it was a stupid pop song. All music, no matter how cheesy, was grounded in emotions, and I’d built my reputation on having none—unless I was with Ava.

Desire pumped through my veins.

I had her all to myself before Jules got home from work in an hour, and I was going to take advantage of every second.

“But if you really want an early birthday present…” I spun Ava around, and she laughed, the sound filling the room with its warmth. “I have something in mind.”

“Oh? What’s that?” she teased, looping her arms around my neck.

“I could tell you or…” I kissed my way down her chest and stomach until I reached the sweet perfection between her thighs. “I could show you.”

I yanked myself out of the scene, my heart pounding. Like all my memories, it was so vivid it might as well be happening in real time. Except it wasn’t, and all that surrounded me was emptiness and cold air.

My chest cracked. Now I remembered why I’d held off on reliving the good memories—every time I returned to reality, it was like losing Ava all over again. I was a fucked-up Prometheus, suffering for eternity, except instead of having my liver eaten by an asshole eagle every day, it was my heart breaking over and over.

I lay there until the shadows lengthened and my back ached from the hardwood floor. Only then did I force myself to stand and limp to my car.

The house next door was dark and silent, matching the weather. I’d been so caught up in my misery I hadn’t realized it was storming. Rain fell in furious sheets, and angry bolts of lightning split the sky in half, illuminating the barren winter trees and cracked pavement.

Not a hint of sunshine or life to be found.





39





Ava





TWO MONTHS LATER

Bridget convinced Rhys not to tell the palace what happened in Philadelphia. I didn’t know how, because Rhys was such a stickler for the rules—even if telling the truth meant getting himself in trouble, since Bridget had been kidnapped on his watch—but she did.

The press also never picked up on the real story. Other than a small item about an “accidental house fire that resulted in the death of former Archer Group CEO Ivan Volkov,” it was like the worst six hours of my life hadn’t happened.

I suspected Alex had a hand in both the fire and the lack of media coverage, but I tried not to think of him these days.

Once or twice, I succeeded.

“I brought cake.” Jules slid a red velvet cupcake in my direction. “Your fave.” Her face glowed with hope as she waited for my response.

My friends tried their best to put on happy faces around me, but I heard their whispers and saw their sidelong glances—they were worried. Really worried. So was Josh, who quit his volunteer program and moved back to Hazelburg for “moral support.” He’d landed a few days after the Philly incident for his belated holiday break, and when he found out what happened, he went berserk. That’d been almost two months ago.

I was grateful for my friends’ support, but I needed more time. Space. They meant well, but I couldn’t breathe with them hovering all the time.

“I don’t want it.” I pushed the cupcake away from me. Red velvet. Like the cookies I’d baked for Alex as a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift a lifetime ago.

I couldn’t stand anything red velvet these days.

“You haven’t eaten yet, and it’s already late afternoon.” For once, Stella wasn’t glued to her phone. Instead, she stared at me with concern scrawled all over her face.

“I’m not hungry.”

Jules, Bridget, and Stella exchanged glances. I’d moved in with Bridget because I couldn’t stand living near Alex anymore. Even though he’d moved out soon after I did, I couldn’t look at that house without thinking of him, and every time I thought of him, I felt like I was drowning.