Twisted Hate (Twisted, #3)

by Ana Huang

“On a scale of one to ten, how badly do you want to fuck me right now?”

Forget diamonds; denial was a girl’s best friend.

“You need someone to bend you over and fuck that attitude right out of you.”

“Also, my face is up here, asshole.”

“I could fuck your brains out right now. Make you take back every word you said and have you begging for more by the end of it.”

“Let’s make another bet, Red. I bet if I bent you over and yanked up that little skirt of yours, I’d find you soaking for me. And I bet I could have you begging for my cock, for me to make you come so hard you’ll see fucking stars before the night is over.”

“Beg me to fuck you. To make you come all over my cock like you so desperately crave.”

“You’re my personal hell, Red.” He gave my hair another sharp tug. “And God help me, I don’t want to fucking leave.”

“You love my cock wrecking that tight little pussy, don’t you?”

But if there was one thing I was sure of, it was that I would never, ever fall in love with Jules Ambrose.

“She understands me in a way no one else does, even if our worldviews are fundamentally different. When I’m not with her, I wish she were there. When I am with her, I want that moment to last forever. She makes me want to be a better person, and when I think about a world where she doesn’t exist…” His jaw flexed. “I want to burn every inch of it to the ground.”

“Because you’re mine,” I said against her mouth. “Let another man touch you, Jules, and you’ll find out just how easily I can take a man’s life as I can save one.”

Grief wasn’t one emotion; it was a hundred emotions wrapped in a dark shroud.

Now, she was beautiful in a way that made me want to drown in her, to let her fill every inch of my soul until she fucking consumed me. It didn’t matter if it killed me, because in a world where I was surrounded by death, she was the only thing that made me feel alive.

I once read somewhere that the opposite of love wasn’t hate, it was indifference. The

“You take my cock so well, Red. Like your pussy was made for me.”

“Remember when I said I forgive you?” I reached around to pinch her clit. “I lied.”

Careful, Red. Keep saying things like that, and I might never let you go. You’re one of the few people I trust…even when we couldn’t stand each other, I could always count on you to be honest with me.

“If you’d asked for the painting, I would’ve given it to you.” My voice cracked. “I would’ve given you anything you wanted.”

She was right. I was a masochist. “Get out.” Jules flinched at my quiet command. “Josh, please. I swear I didn’t—” “Get. Out.” “I lo—” “Don’t you dare say it.”

“I said, get out, Jules. Get the fuck out!"

I just drank and drank until I sank into the darkness of oblivion and thoughts of Jules finally faded from my mind.

Remember when I said I forgive you? I lied. When I said I forgive you? I lied. Forgive you? I lied. I lied. I lied.

You know, you’re the first guy I’ve been with in my room. First and last, Red. Possessive much? Damn right I am. I don’t like sharing. Sharing is a virtue, Josh. I don’t give a flying fuck. I don’t share. Not when it comes to you.

I didn’t bother wiping them away. I just lay there, staring into the darkness and letting it eat me alive.

“Because you’re it for me. Whether it’s today, tomorrow, a year, or decades from now, that’ll never change.”

Because the possibility of you is better than the reality of anyone else.”

But now that nothing stood in our way, I was terrified—of being hurt, of not being enough, and of actually being loved when I didn’t deserve it.

“Twelve days, eight hours, and nine minutes. I spent every second thinking of you.”

“In case it’s not clear, I fucking love you, Jules Ambrose, even when you drive me crazy. Especially when you drive me crazy.”

Because I didn’t want easy. I wanted her.