Page 45 of One Twisted Lie

“Let’s fuck.”

Chapter 22

Carter

“Let’s fuck.”

Ozymandias is already undressing, ripping his shirt off with haste and desperation that borders on manic. I gape at him, not even being able to appreciate the hard planes of his chest and the happy trail leading down to his cock. He’s trying to avoid having this conversation, the conversation the both of us knew would happen sooner or later. He’s trying to pretend that whatever happened with Avery was a fluke, a joke, something considered insignificant.

“What are you waiting for?” he nearly yells, yanking his pants and underwear down at once. “Let’s fuck.”

“I’m not exactly in the mood,” I say, grabbing my hoodie and a pair of his track shorts and toss them at him. “Get dressed and let’s talk.”

“I don’t want to talk,” he states, dropping the clothes onto my bed. He comes up to me, hands immediately aimed at my pants. “I want you inside me. Mouth or ass, your choice.”

It’s difficult to push him away when he’s palming my hardening cock, but I manage to find the willpower. “Christ! You’re so fucking infuriating! It’s okay to fucking cry, Oz! What are you so freaked out about?”

He looks rejected and a tad bit embarrassed. He growls under his breath as he grabs my clothes, yanking them on angrily. “You know.”

“Your father has poisoned you,” I spit. “He’s made you into this stereotypical macho man who can’t have a semblance of vulnerability without being ashamed. He made you such a spoiled asshole with stunted emotions—”

“Fuck you—”

“—and despite it all, I’m in love with you!”

There it is. I said it. I can’t believe we ended up here. But, fortunately, or unfortunately, I love the fucking bastard. I don’t know how it happened. Maybe it’s because he challenges me, constantly keeps me on my toes, and isn’t afraid to give me shit. Or maybe it’s the little touches and the way he curls into me after we fuck. Maybe it’s the little bits of him that only I get. His intelligence, his kindness, his vulnerability. I don’t know what it is, but it’s sucked me in.

I’m fucking in love with him, and he’s acting like an ass.

“Wait…” He shakes his head as if I’m speaking in tongues. He was in the middle of pulling my hoodie over his head, and now it’s slightly askew. He looks disheveled and shocked. “You…”

“Yeah, I fucking love you!” I snap, my voice coming out angry. “So, you win!”

“Win what? Was there a contest I didn’t know about?” he asks. He pauses, taking a step toward me, hand extended gently and hesitantly. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you love me?”

I snort, dropping my face into my hands because of course he wants to hear it. Arrogant bastard. “Damn, you’re so full of yourself. Underneath all the shit you pile on, you’re sweet. Sweet, not kind, but so fucking loyal.”

“I—”

“You’re funny and awkward when no one’s watching. You challenge me, constantly, and I feel like the world just gets left behind when I’m with you.” I let out a deep breath, reaching up and cradling his face in my hands, all my anger dissipating as I stare into those dark blue eyes. “I fucking love you, princess. I don’t know how the fuck we got here, but here’s where we are.” I squeeze his face gently, cocking my head as my heart constricts. “Well?”

“Well, what?”“Say it back, fucker.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you love me too,” I say confidently. He has to. The way he looks at me. The way he touches me. The way he trusts me. My confidence falters when he doesn’t say anything. “Don’t you?”

He grits his teeth, his face red. “Of course, I fucking do. Why do I have to say it? You’re hot as hell, smart as hell, and caring as hell. I don’t have to be anyone but myself when I’m around you.”

I let out a breathy chuckle, pressing my forehead against his. “You love me.”

“And you love me,” he whispers back, gently kissing me. Once, twice, before he speaks again. “This is so fucked up.”

“Is this how normal people tell each other they’re in love?”

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