Twisted Hate (Twisted, 3)

I’d met my fair share of douchebags, but I could say with utmost confidence the guy standing before me was the douchiest of them all.

Maybe it was his oily smile and the way he slicked back his hair, like he was a smarmy politician running for office. Or maybe it was the way he leered at Jules, like she was a juicy steak and he hadn’t eaten in days.

Irrational loathing replaced my earlier satisfaction at successfully working Jules up.

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

Whiskey had loosened my tongue, and Jules and Marshall’s kiss had given me the final push to say what I’d been thinking. To say what we’d both been thinking since Vermont.

Jules could hiss and snarl all she wanted, but she couldn’t hide her desire. She wanted me as much as I wanted her, and we both hated ourselves for it.

“Todd.” Jules packed a gallon of disdain into one word.

My mouth ticked up into an involuntary smile before it flattened again.

She knew this guy?

“I thought that was you, but I wasn’t sure. You look even better in person,” he told her chest.

My jaw tightened. I appreciated breasts as much as the next guy, but that was just damn rude. He hadn’t looked her in the eye since he arrived.

Part of me was grateful for the interruption, which came right as I was about to do something I would regret. Another, darker part of me wanted to gouge his eyes out for looking at her that way.

I rolled my glass between my fingers, disturbed by my violent, unwanted thoughts. Where the hell had they come from? Since when did I care whether other men looked at Jules?

I don’t. Todd has a punchable face. That’s all.

“You don’t.” Jules’s voice oozed enough sweet venom to fell an elephant. “I guess pictures can be deceiving.”

This time, I couldn’t hold back a grin despite my irritation.

She was savage. I fucking loved it.

If Todd was offended, he didn’t show it. I wasn’t even sure he heard her; he was too busy ogling her breasts, which strained against the buttons of her shirt.

“I’m sorry about our date the other day,” he said, and just like that, my grin disappeared again. “My car broke down and my phone died. I texted you a few times after, but you never responded.”

I pieced together the puzzle before Jules responded. This was the guy who’d stood her up at The Bronze Gear?

Jesus. I thought she had better taste than that.

“If by the other day, you mean almost a month ago, then apology not accepted,” Jules said coolly. “You also never texted me, but it’s okay. I suffered a massive lapse in judgment when I swiped right on you. I’m back to normal now, so you can run along.” She shooed him away with a wave of her hand. “Also, my face is up here, asshole.”

Todd’s face flushed an angry shade of purple. “I was trying to be nice because I felt bad about what happened. You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.”

A low growl rose in my throat.

I opened my mouth, but Jules beat me to it. “As far as I can tell, you’re the only one bitching here. I’m just enjoying my drink.” She arched one brow. “Keep bothering me, and I’ll have security throw you out on your ass for harassment. So if you don’t want to be humiliated in front of all these people…” She gestured at the crowd around us. “I suggest you take my earlier advice and leave. Immediately.”

Todd’s lips thinned, but he was smart enough not to test the validity of Jules’s threat.

“Don’t say a word,” Jules said after Todd stormed off. She tossed back the rest of her cocktail without looking at me.

I raised my hands in surrender. The coiled tension in my muscles eased with Todd’s departure, though traces of aggravation simmered in my veins. “Not a peep.” After a long pause, I added, “You swiped right on that guy?”

Pink tinted her cheeks. “I’m busy with law school,” she snapped. “My options are limited, and I have needs, so…”

“You lowered your standards to hell?”

“Perhaps, but at least I haven’t reached you yet,” she said sweetly. “Speaking of which, I haven’t seen you with anyone lately. What happened, Joshy? Ran out of women who’ll fall for your bullshit?”

“It’s a choice, Red. I can get any girl I want at any time.”

“False. You can’t get me.”

“I haven’t tried.”

We stared at each other, our implied challenge hanging thick in the air.

If I tried…would she succumb to what her eyes told me she wanted? Would she let me bend her over and take her like I’d said earlier, or would she fight me for control every step of the way?

My lips curved.

Something told me I already knew the answer. Jules never made things easy. It was one of the things I secretly liked about her.

“You’re an arrogant ass.” Calculation entered her eyes. “Since you’re so confident in your abilities with women, let’s play another game.”

Intrigue bloomed. “What kind of game?”

“It’s simple. We see which one of us can get the most phone numbers in an hour.” Jules cocked her head, her hair spilling in waves of coppery silk over her shoulder. “Winner gets bragging rights.”

It might seem low stakes to an outside observer, but bragging rights for us held the same cachet as a Rolex or Lamborghini. Maybe more.

Nothing mattered more than our pride.

“Deal.” Cockiness filled my smile. Jules was good, but I was going to win.

I always did.

“Good.” She glanced at the giant clock hanging on the wall. “We reconvene at ten to seven.”

I was gone by the time she finished her sentence. I’d been scanning the room since she brought up the game rules, formulating a plan, so I didn’t hesitate in beelining toward a group of twenty-something women in the corner.

Lucky for me, the bar’s female to male ratio was about two to one, giving me the upper hand even if I stayed away from women who were with their significant other.

I kept my conversations brief and flirtatious. I never promised more than I could give, and I made the women I talked to feel good enough they had no qualms about parting with their numbers after only a few minutes. I suspected a few knew I was up to something, considering how quickly I was moving through the crowd, but that didn’t stop them from flirting back.

By the time six-thirty rolled around, I’d secured well over a dozen numbers. I should’ve been thrilled, but suspicion trickled through me when I noticed Jules hadn’t moved from her seat. She sipped her drink, her face serene as she watched me work the room.

What was she up to?

Unable to take it anymore, I ended my conversation with the woman I was currently talking to and stalked over to Jules. I planted my hands on the wooden tabletop and narrowed my eyes. “Okay, what’s your game?”

“What do you mean?” Jules asked, innocent as a newborn lamb.

“We have…” I checked the time again. “…ten minutes left and you haven’t even tried to talk to a guy. Don’t tell me you’re banking on them approaching you first.”

A few had, but Jules wasn’t the passive type. She liked to go in guns blazing, no matter the situation.

“I’m not.”

“Forfeiting, then? If you’re scared of losing, just say so. No need to go through this whole song and dance.”

“Oh, I’m not forfeiting.” Jules finally set her drink down and unfolded herself from her chair. She slipped out of her jacket, her movements like honey gliding against the gentle curves of a glass bottle.

Slow, smooth, sensual.

Fucking hell.

My throat dried at the sight before me.

Jules wore a standard professional uniform—a white button-down shirt tucked into a gray skirt, black heels, and a discreet gold necklace that peeked out from beneath her collar. But with her body and confidence, she might as well have been wearing the world’s sexiest lace lingerie.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop my eyes from devouring her flash of cleavage and the way her outfit hugged her ample curves. Her voluptuous figure wasn’t toned and lean like so many of the women in my gym, but it was soft. Lush. And entirely too appealing.

Heat scorched my blood as an image of me pushing her up against a wall, yanking up that tight little skirt, and fucking her until she screamed flashed through my head.

I shoved it aside the minute it popped up, but it was too late. My cock was already hardening, and arousal thrummed low in my gut.

Tension hardened my jaw. I hated this newfound effect she had on me. I’d gone years without being turned on by her, and now, I couldn’t stop fantasizing about her. I didn’t know what changed, but it was pissing me the fuck off.

“I’m winning this bet. Watch and learn, Chen,” Jules purred before sashaying over to the DJ.

The view of her walking away did nothing to ease the ache in my groin.

Of all the horrible things that could happen to me, being sexually attracted to Jules Ambrose topped the list. No question.

Need, frustration, and curiosity battled for dominance as she said something to the DJ. He nodded, his face creasing with sympathy.

A burst of suspicion entered the mix when he cut off the music. Why would he…

I shot up when I realized what she had up her sleeve.

She wouldn’t. No fucking way.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your happy hour, but I’ll keep this quick.” Jules’s voice rang through the now silent bar, clear and strong but with a touch of vulnerability that had everyone leaning in to hear more.

“Long story short, I just got out of a long, terrible relationship, and my friend”—she gestured toward me, causing dozens of heads to swivel in my direction—“reminded me the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. So I’m looking for a rebound.” The mix of studied hesitation and suggestiveness in her voice was enough to drive any red-blooded male crazy. Goddammit, she was good. “If you’re interested in a no strings attached night or two, give me your number. Thank you.”

Straight to the point, even if the point was a false one. Classic Jules.

The bar reverberated with stunned silence for one, two, three beats before pandemonium broke out. Cheers and applause rang through the space while dozens of men rushed toward her, nearly tripping over themselves in their haste to be her “rebound.”

I shook my head, unable to process what was happening. I felt like I’d just been dropped into the middle of a farfetched movie scene. I wouldn’t have believed it had I not witnessed it with my own eyes.

Of course that was Jules’s plan. She was the only person I knew who could pull off such a move.

She caught my eye over the crowd, her face glowing with triumph. Sucks to lose, she mouthed.

It did. I hated losing. But I couldn’t even be mad because what she just did? Fucking genius.

I rubbed a hand over my mouth, unable to hold back a laugh of grudging admiration.

Jules Ambrose was something else.