House Of Payne: Twist Part 7

The sound of Twist's rumbly, sleep-rough voice made her tense. Time's up, was all she could think. No more hanging in limbo while she struggled to figure out what to do with him. She had to decide whether or not he would forever be stuck in the role of villain in her head, or if she was capable of looking at him as anything else.

And she had to do it now.

His arm tightened around her. She couldn't help but notice how the action brought her up against the impressive wall of his chest, and kept her there. "Time to wake up, Alice."

Yes. Yes, it was.

"That used to be my least favorite part of Alice in Wonderland," she told the room in front of her, because she couldn't look at the man who held her. Her life as she knew it was hanging by a thread, and she was certain that even a single glance from Twist's dark eyes would snap that thread in two. And then her life would change forever. "As a kid I felt so sorry for Alice, losing that fantastical dreamland when she woke up. But I get it now. No matter how awesome that world was, reality is always so much better."

"I don't know about that. A hookah-smoking caterpillar is pretty f.u.c.king fantastic." Again that arm tightened. This time she recognized it for the hug that it was, and she had to close her eyes against an unexpected wave of sweetness that was so piercing, it was almost painful. "What was it about reality that made you think Alice-or you, or anyone else-would be better off drifting forever in a dream world, while real life pa.s.sed on by?"

"I don't know. Actually, that's not true," she heard herself admit, when she hadn't had any intention of doing do. She opened her eyes once more and hoped that would bring back her sanity. "I do know. When I was twelve, we were studying Lewis Carroll's Alice works as being a literary metaphor for transitioning from childhood to adulthood-a subject a bunch of seventh-graders could relate to. Twelve years old is one of the weirdest, most awkward stages to go through, don't you think? You're old enough to understand so much about the world, but you're still a child at heart, with a child's emotions and limitations. If something comes along to rock your world, you understand what's happening, but you don't yet have the emotional maturity and coping skills to deal with it."

His other arm slid from under her pillow where her head rested, and came across her body so that his hand cupped her bare shoulder, locking her more completely against his chest. "Sounds about right. I think I spent that entire year being p.i.s.sed off."

With both his arms wrapped around her like steel bands, it was hard to keep her mind on the conversation. "I did too."

"Because someone came along and rocked your world?"

"Yes." It came out grudgingly, if only because she never really talked about it. Not to her mother, not to Scout, not to Joey or Novak. That time in her life just sat inside her, untouched, like an undiscovered toxic spill that quietly leaked poison into her system. "I guess I had the perfect little princess life-doting mother and adoring father, the best schooling and a great circle of friends. My father inherited a prestigious architectural design company that currently is responsible for about a quarter of the residential jobs in Chicago and outlying communities. I never had so much as a ripple of trouble to darken my life."

"Sounds like a great childhood," came the surprisingly gentle response. The paranoid freak in her almost wished he'd popped off with some kind of a.s.shole response, if only to make her slam up her guard and stay safe. But to her dismay, his sweetness just kept on coming, and she had nothing at her disposal to combat it. "What happened?"

"Nothing hideous. Just the usual, run-of-the-mill suburban drama of my parents' marriage breaking up. It's so normal it's boring, really."

She felt him s.h.i.+ft. "I thought your parents were still together."

"My father moved back in three years later when they remarried-I was just a few weeks away from my sixteenth birthday. About two years later I landed at House Of Payne and moved out as quickly as I could. We were all better off with me out of the house."

"That's something I've never understood about your history," he said after a moment. "I don't get how a kid who's not yet graduated from high school is better off without parental supervision. If I had kids, I'd never let them do that, especially a little girl. Not until I'd made sure they graduated, anyway."

The thought of an overprotective Twist hover-parenting a little girl with dark hair and intense dark eyes made her smile. "That was the deal I made with them-they'd let me go without a ha.s.sle if I promised to graduate. We both kept up our ends of the deal, and everyone was happier for it."

"Why were you so hot to get out on your own?"

A slow, painful burn flared at the base of her throat and worked its way up until her eyes stung with it. "I couldn't stand being in a place I wasn't wanted."

"What?"

"That sounded pathetic, didn't it? Ugh. I didn't know it would sound that bad. But then, I've never actually said those words out loud before. And honestly, I don't think I'll ever say them again, they're so embarra.s.singly pitiful."

His head came up so his mouth was close to her ear. "What do you mean, you couldn't stand being in a place you weren't wanted? I thought you had a great family life."

"I did, too." She made herself take in a silent, calming breath when her voice shook, weakened by an old, old injury she'd thought had healed over. But the pain oozing up now told her that it hadn't healed. It had only been buried. "I guess it was just a pretty illusion, that great family life. Like Alice's dream world."

"What happened to make you think that?"

"My father was having an affair with his receptionist-a total upper middle-cla.s.s cliche if there ever was one." To her shock she heard the words spill out without her permission. It wasn't like her to speak so freely of that terrible event that had permanently changed the dynamic of their family. She hated thinking of it, much less talking about it. "I remember hearing all this yelling from downstairs, so I hurried down to see what was going on. My mom was hysterical, demanding to know what more my dad needed, when she'd spent every moment trying to make the perfect life for him. Perfect house, perfect kid, perfect hostess for his bigwig parties and clients. She'd devoted everything she was to building up his life, and this was how he repaid her-by telling her he wanted a divorce so he could move in with his hot young girlfriend. See? Total cliche."

His arms tightened, and though she knew it was crazy, it almost felt as though he wanted to protect her from that long-ago scene. "That had to suck."

"Yeah." She'd never forget how the bottom of her stomach had dropped away as she listened to what was the end of the world as she'd known it. Yeah. It had definitely sucked. "My dad tried to defend his indefensible position with that worn-out, 'it's not you, it's me' spiel. Come to find out, he hated every part of his life. Every part. He'd never wanted to be an architect, but he'd been forced to be one by his family. He'd never wanted to be the head of one of the most successful architectural firms in all of Chicagoland, but he'd had to because he'd inherited it. No, he'd always dreamed of being a cartoonist for one of the big houses, like DC or Marvel. As far as he was concerned, the family architectural firm he'd been saddled with was nothing more than a gilded cage that stifled his inner artist that yearned to, and I quote, 'break free of these soul-smothering bonds'."

He snorted. "What a f.u.c.king drama queen."

That almost startled a laugh out of her. "You can say that again."

"If he hadn't wanted to be in the family business in the first place, he should have manned up way back when, told them no, and had the b.a.l.l.s to go for what he really wanted, instead of crying about it like a b.i.t.c.h a decade or two later."

"Right? And let me tell you, he sure as h.e.l.l didn't mind the good life and prestige the business gave him when it came to supporting both his family and the mistress he had on the side," she added, grinning. Then she shook her head in astonishment when she realized she could grin about it after all these years. "I look back now and I'm able to see that my dad was the product of his environment-kind of spoiled, a lot ent.i.tled, and he couldn't seem to understand why the rest of the universe refused to revolve around all that he wanted, needed, and felt. Because of this, his woe at this time in his life was probably immense."

Twist was quiet for a moment. "No offense, but I don't think I'd like your dad very much."

"I can understand that."

"Was that why you left home so early? Because you wanted to make sure you weren't a part of his...o...b..t? Or was it that you couldn't forgive him the way your mother obviously did when she remarried him?"

"Neither, actually." She stared straight ahead while that scene played out before her mind's eye. "His sorrowful tale of how his soul was being smothered wasn't just confined to how much he hated being a buried by a highly successful family business that he was great at. My father, who called me Daddy's girl and the man I adored, told my mom that he'd never wanted kids, that she'd trapped him with me, and that the worst moment of his entire life had been when she'd told him that she was pregnant with me."

"Baby." Under the comforter, his leg came over her hip, engulfing her in an all-over body hug while his mouth pressed against her ear. "He didn't mean it. Not like that."

"I know. Seriously, I get that it was the heat of the moment, and I've come to terms with that. But the fact remains he hated a life he saw as not good enough. He wanted to escape it, and I was part of all that he wanted to escape." She shrugged and felt his hand tighten on her shoulder. "So I set him free."

"What'd you do?"

"I went as ugly-crazy as only a hysterical twelve-year-old can do, screeching that I hated his guts while I kicked, pummeled and shoved him toward the vestibule. He wanted out of a life that wasn't worthy of him and his greatness? Fine. I showed him the door and gave him what he wanted. Out."

His mouth caressed her ear before sliding down to burrow in her neck. "Angel."

"The problem was that he didn't stay out. Can you believe it? His relations.h.i.+p with his mistress went south, so he crawled back to his runner-up choice, the soul-smothering family he'd thrown away. I don't know, I guess he thought that while we weren't worthy of his awesomeness, at least we were better than nothing."

"Or he realized he'd made a mistake and wanted to come back."

"That's sweet, Twist. But if that were the case he'd have done it right away, not years later after his other relations.h.i.+p tanked and he had nowhere else to go."

"So that's why you got out of there as soon as you had a job," he said after he let that sink in. "What's your relations.h.i.+p with your folks now?"

"I'm okay with my mom, though I didn't really get that way until I was out of the house. I just could never understand where her pride was, allowing him back into her life like that."

"Maybe pride doesn't matter when you love someone."

She shrugged, though that certainly gave her food for thought. "When she remarried my dad, she asked me to be her maid of honor, but I just couldn't do it. I didn't even attend the ceremony, and while I still feel it would have been hypocritical to stand up with her, I now regret that I didn't give her the emotional support she probably needed that day. The last thing she needed to feel was that she was being torn between her daughter and the man she obviously loves. I've since told her her how I regret putting her in a position that probably made her feel very conflicted."

"Did she tell you that she was sorry for not waiting to remarry your father until you were out on your own, since you were so obviously against having him back in your life?"

She frowned. "No."

He was quiet a moment as he absorbed that. "How are you with your dad now?"

"We're cordial." She lifted a shoulder, and decided she liked the fit of that word. "They have their life, which seems to be genuinely happy and content, and I have mine. Our paths rarely cross."

"Except when they need a favor from you, like packing up their s.h.i.+t."

She sighed. He just wasn't going to let that go. "Look at it this way-I'm helping them get out of Chicago so they can live far, far away."

"I guess I can live with that," he muttered grudgingly. "I think I saw your folks at the exhibit of a new set of Biker Chick Fairy Tale characters you did about a year ago, didn't I? Your rendition of Gretel sucking on a lollipop while wearing candy-striped stockings was so hot I had to buy it."

"What?" That startled her so much she looked over her shoulder at him. "You're kidding."

Sleepy-eyed and tousle-headed, Twist gave her a slow, crooked smile that did weird things to her pulse. "Why the h.e.l.l would I kid about that? It's hanging in my studio because it kicks a.s.s and I love it." When she simply continued to stare at him-after all, he was the last person she would have expected to buy any of her framed artwork-he gave her a little shake. "So? Were they at your exhibit?"

"Yeah, they were there. You seriously bought my art?"

"Yeah. And your parents were seriously at your exhibit."

"So?"

"So, maybe they're interested in taking a more active role in your life, and they're knocking on whatever door they can reach to see if you'll answer. Not that I'm all that hyped about that," he added as his brows came together in the scowl she knew so well. The hand at her shoulder moved to cup her chin, an action that pulled her gently back toward him. "I don't like they way they treat you."

"The way they treat me?"

"They don't put you at the center of their universe, when it's obvious to me that's where you belong."

While that statement knocked her flat, he kissed her.

Chapter Eight.

Angel's back settled into the mattress as Twist curled her underneath him. She barely noticed. She was too busy sinking into a mult.i.tude of sensations as he angled her face up to his. His warmth. His taste. His touch. His weight. Everything that he was a.s.saulted her senses until he filled all the corners of her world.

If a human being could be the definition of overwhelming Twist was it.

The thin sheet separating them was a hindrance that got quickly shoved aside. His mouth never left hers as he positioned himself over her, the majority of his weight balanced on a forearm beside her. His free hand raked through her hair as if starved for the feel of it. She'd always loved having her hair stroked, and it was as if he knew that was the only way to make her melt from the inside out.

No. That wasn't the only way. The way he worked his mouth was what truly did it for her. The man could kiss. The hard pressure of it both demanded and conquered, while still being soft enough to meld like molten steel over her lips. His flavor was intoxicating and his tongue knew just how to toy with hers. It was wet and hot, deep and delving, and more exciting than anything she'd experienced with any other man.

If she'd known Twist's kiss was this extraordinary, she would have stopped looking at him as the enemy a long time ago.

Though she tried to hold it back, she moaned into his mouth, a helpless sound that was no louder than a whisper. It seemed to have a galvanic effect; a shudder rocked through him, and it shook free a low growl in response. More of his weight settled on her, and it felt so good she couldn't help but squirm under him in sheer delight. She wanted to know what he felt like through the feedback of every nerve in her body, and the only way to make that happen was to have all of him against all of her. In that moment, while is mouth made love to hers, that sounded like a little slice of heaven on earth.

She didn't consciously direct her hands to slide over the hard muscles on either side of his spine into the dip of his lower back, venturing all the way down to cup his a.s.s, but she didn't stop them when they reached their destination. Nor did she stop herself from squeezing those first-cla.s.s b.u.t.t cheeks once she had her hands on them. She could admit now that while she hadn't admired much about Twist before her mugging, his b.u.t.t was a standout exception. For years she had believed it to be his one redeeming characteristic, so rounded and defined it refused to be camouflaged by his usual uniform of worn jeans, dark-colored henleys and concert T-s.h.i.+rts.

Now that she'd gotten to know him better, it was clear there were quite a few redeeming features about Twist. His b.u.t.t, however, still topped that list as far as she was concerned. Now that she had the opportunity to explore it, she wasn't going to let it go to waste.

With her mouth eagerly dancing to his tune she moved against him, taking her time to enjoy both his kiss and how perfectly his firm glutes fit into her palms. Her fingers dug into that hard flesh, squeezing his a.s.s in a way she'd secretly hungered to do ever since she'd first gotten a good long look as he'd walked on by. That action pushed him deeper into her body, and everything that was feminine in her thrilled in primal triumph as the unmistakable hard thrust of his p.e.n.i.s.

Hot d.a.m.n, she turned him on.

Her innermost core surged with damp heat, and the intimate tissues of her cleft throbbed and swelled with need. Before she knew it, her knees were on either side of his narrow hips while she pressed him with wordless insistence to get closer, closer.

Closer.

One of his hands left her hair to trail down her neck and claim the subtle swell of her breast beneath the veil of another ruffle-edged chemise. She couldn't stifle an all-over body jolt when his thumb rubbed her nipple with a barely-leashed urgency, and the catch of her breath again drew a hungry growl from him. That growl tasted like more on her tongue. Feverishly she arched her back, pus.h.i.+ng into his touch to ensure she got all that she wanted-needed-from him.

"You like that, don't you, baby?" He whispered the words into her mouth before his lips left hers to trail down her throat with such deliberate intent she knew where he was headed as easily as if she could read his mind. She arched again, lost on the building antic.i.p.ation of having the sensual suction of his mouth where his hand now teased her. "Arch up to me just like that. Show me you want me."

The peal of the doorbell was like a cruel joke.

"f.u.c.k." The violence in Twist's muttered curse startled her back to reality as much as the intrusive doorbell, and she blinked in growing shock even as he shot away from her.

What the h.e.l.l had they been doing?

But she knew. Of course she knew. And she couldn't pretend she hadn't been a thoroughly active partic.i.p.ant in it, just as she couldn't pretend she hadn't loved every second of it.

Or that she was now frustrated to the point of gnas.h.i.+ng her teeth that they'd been interrupted.

"If it's one of those jokers from next door, I'm going to a.s.sume they've drilled a G.o.dd.a.m.n peephole into your bedroom, which means their lives are officially forfeit." With a grimace and a well-placed hand at the crotch of the sweatpants he'd slept in, Twist rolled off the bed. "Their timing's just too f.u.c.king perfect to be real."

He'd already crossed the bedroom's threshold before Angel grasped that he had bloodshed on his mind. That got her moving like nothing else. Bouncing off the bed, she hurried after him, trying to ignore how her legs still shook with residual stimulation. "Wait, wait, no killing on my doorstep."

"Works for me. I'm fine with dragging their a.s.ses inside so there won't be any witnesses." Stalking down the front hall, he popped the locks on the front door and yanked it open just as she reached him.

"Good morning, suns.h.i.+ne." With a determined smile, Scout stepped into the tiny foyer without waiting for an invitation and held out a familiar flat box. "I brought donuts-creme-filled, jelly-filled and chocolate glazed with rainbow sprinkles. If that doesn't get me inside, nothing will."

Twist was busy doing his best to glare Scout to death as Angel joined her on the sofa, sipping coffee and making their donut selection. She'd tried to get him to ease up as she'd set up the coffeemaker, but it just wasn't happening. The man wanted to hold a grudge against someone for being interrupted, and since Scout had been on the other side of that door, then she had no choice but to be the recipient of it.

Considering what would be happening right now if Scout hadn't shown up at her door, Angel wasn't sure what she felt. A little relief at regaining her sanity was there of course, but there was also a healthy helping of disappointment, and that was something that shocked the c.r.a.p out of her. Was she really that sold on getting into a physical relations.h.i.+p with a man who'd seemed to have so little respect for her a few days ago?

One thing was certain-right now the last thing she wanted to do was be polite and worry about making a selection of what kind of donut she was going to eat.

"External security's in the process of being totally overhauled at the House," Scout was saying, taking her time in tearing apart a chocolate glazed confection with crimson-tipped fingers. The crimson of her nails currently matched a wide swath of hair in her pinup-girl hairdo, a daring look that matched Scout's bold personality to perfection. "Payne flipped his lid over your attack, so as we speak floodlights and cameras for both front and back entrances are being installed. And you, Rocket and I are no longer allowed to head out to our cars on our own. That means he's got me lining up interviews for an evening security guard."

Angel curled her bare feet under her, her hands cradling a mug of steaming coffee. "You mean you and Rocket. I know my memory's a little scrambled, but I do remember telling you that I'm done at the House."

"You did," came the measured reply. "Nothing's wrong with your memory."

"Then why sound like I'm still an employee at House Of Payne? Since I've never resigned before, I guess I don't know how to do it properly. Is there a specific procedure I have to go through or something? Do I have to work out a two-week notice?"

"No." Scout's stormy gray eyes pinned her to the spot. "Your resignation hasn't been accepted. You're not quitting."

Angel stared at her. "Um, I'm pretty positive Abraham Lincoln said something about people being free to do whatever the h.e.l.l they wanted when it came to labor."

"Let's look at it another way. You have a six-month non-compete agreement in your contract with the House. That's a long freaking time to go in between jobs, don't you think?"