Page 73 of Twisted Hate (Twisted 3)

“I’ll take care of it later. Don’t worry about it.”

“Josh, that looks painful.”

It waspainful. I was so hard it was fucking excruciating. But a sick part of me reveled in it.

The pain reminded me I was still alive.

“You need a release too,” Jules pointed out, and I knew she wasn’t just talking about an orgasm.

“I’ll take care of it,” I repeated. Walking out with a boner the size of the Washington Memorial would be awkward as fuck, but the other people in the library had looked so zoned out I wasn’t sure they’d notice. “Don’t want to push our luck.”

“Right.” She closed her eyes, her breaths slowing.

Lazy silence swirled in the air.

Today was a complete one-eighty from the type of sex we usually had, but sometimes you needed hard and fast; other times you needed long and languid.

Besides, I could eat Jules out for days and not get tired of it.

My eyes lingered on her delicate features and rosy flush for a second longer than they should’ve.

On impulse, I said, “You want to go with me somewhere next Saturday? It’s not a date,” I clarified when her eyes popped open. “The hospital is having its annual all-staff picnic and I know the nurses will try to set me up like they do every year. Figured I’d preempt it by bringing a fake date.” I emphasized the word fake.

Jules’s brows rose. “That’s against the rules of our arrangement.”

Yeah, I fucking knew. I wasn’t sure what possessed me to ask her when I could’ve brought any number of casual female acquaintances, but reason flew out the window whenever Jules Ambrose was involved.

It was damn infuriating, but since I couldn’t do anything about it, I might as well lean into it.

“Rules are meant to be bent.” I shrugged. “Look, if you ever need someone to pretend to be your date, I’m game. It’s easier than asking some random person.”

When Jules continued to hesitate, I added, “There’ll be free food.”

A beat passed before she said, “I could make it work.”

“Good. I’ll text you the details later.” I turned to leave, but her soft, tentative voice stopped me.

“Josh. Are you going to be okay?”

I stilled. A strange lump formed in my throat at her unexpected concern before I swallowed it. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.” I threw her a quick smile over my shoulder. “See you next Saturday, Red.”

After I left the library—where no one noticed my hard-on, thank God—I went straight home and poured myself a glass of Macallan. The shit was expensive, but it’d been a birthday gift from Alex. I’d rationed it out over the years, saving it for my biggest celebrations and shittiest days.

I finished my first glass and poured myself a second one. I didn’t touch my erection. Instead, I sat in my living room and leaned my head back against the couch, listening to the silence.

Seeing Jules had provided a surprising measure of comfort, but the momentary lightness I’d experienced in the library had already drained away.

I tossed back the rest of my drink and savored the burn of whiskey sliding down my throat.

In that moment, it was the only thing keeping me warm.