His Twisted Heart by Ellie R Hunter
Chapter Twelve
Victoria
The rain is beating against my window, keeping me from sleeping, and it’s how I hear the first creak of my window opening. Sitting up, I reach down to the side of my bed for the baseball bat my grandpa put there a couple of years ago for this very reason. Taking a deep breath, I ready myself to scream for my dad when Luca comes through the window and falls onto my floor. It’s a little after two in the morning, and everyone in the house is asleep. The twins are at the club, and Grandpa is at his place. Putting the bat back on the floor, I jump out of bed to help him—not that he needs it.
“What are you doing? My dad will shoot you if he catches you in here.”
“Please. The most he can do is go whine to my dad about me being in his daughter’s room, and my dad won’t give a shit as long as I don’t get you pregnant.”
“We don’t want that, either.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Then you should leave.”
“Not all hole’s end in pregnancies.”
Placing my hand on my chest, I pretend to be offended.
“Are you saying you want to fuck me in the ass?”
“It’s not that I want to, I’m going to.”
“I’m not that kind of girl, Luca Jackson.”
He takes another step closer, giving me a clear view of the raindrops dripping from the tips of his hair and rolling down his face.
“I think you are. I think you’d try anything for me.”
“You’re always telling me I shouldn’t think. Perhaps you should take your own advice and stop thinking, because it’s obviously leading you astray.”
He gives me a full-blown smile, and it quite literally takes my breath away.
He can have what he damn well pleases with that smile, but my head hasn’t been turned far enough for anal.
“Anal is girlfriend material kind of sex,” I tease, working his angle to my advantage. “And since you haven’t claimed me...” I leave the rest of that sentence hanging in the air.
Unbuttoning his jeans, he whips his hoodie over his head.
Is he going to make me his girlfriend?
The anticipation has me growing wetter with every strangled breath I take.
“I’ll just keep you as a booty call, then. Your pussy, it is.”
“Asshole.”
“Yeah, I am, but not in yours.” Grabbing me around my waist, he pulls me against him. He may believe I’m his booty call, but he’s the one who drove all the way out here for me, especially while his dad’s sick.
Sliding his hands around to my ass, the chill from outside clashes against my warmth as he squeezes. His lips are warm, as they always are, and I devour his kiss as he backs me up to my bed.
It’s one thing to sneak around the club, but for Luca to sneak into my room while my parents sleep in the next room takes it to a whole new level of exciting. Even a little dangerous.
“Take a picture with me.”
Luca chooses to light a cigarette instead of pose with me. Perched on his lap, I wrap one arm around his neck and use the other to hold the old Polaroid camera up to take a selfie.
“I know you won’t smile, but can you at least look at the camera?”
“Only this once.”
Of course. It’s not like I expect too much from him.
I click the button at the same time he puts the cigarette to his lips.
At least I’m capturing the true Luca in full asshole mode.
Tossing the camera onto the bed, I fan the Polaroid until the image becomes clear.
It’s not hard to see Luca is photogenic. Like, beyond what should be normal. But as I stare at the full image, I find myself thinking of how good we look together, and not just because I want us to. We really fucking do.
Him dark, me light. Together, we’re the perfect balance.
Swiping the picture from my hand, Luca stares at it through the cigarette smoke of his half-burnt down cigarette hanging from between his lips.
“Can I have that back, please?”
“I’ll keep hold of it.”
Tucking it into the back of his pants pocket, he repositions me so I’m sitting on the bed instead of his lap.
“I’m surprised you don’t want to be outside. It’s the first cookout we’ve had in ages. Don’t you need the sun to top up your spirit or something?”
“I’d rather be with you.”
He groans. It’s not in the sexual kind way, but in an I’m-annoying-the-shit-out-of-him sort of way.
“Why do you have to be so soft?”
“I’m not soft. I’m just saying, I’d prefer to stay here.”
“You should go before I have to remind you that you’re not my—”
“Girlfriend. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it.”
I climb off the bed, not wanting my positive energy to be zapped away by him today. Like he said, the club is having its first cookout in ages, and I shouldn’t miss it. The brothers and the old ladies will be in high spirits, and that’s exactly what I need.
I open the door, ready to leave, but not before saying, “Luca Jackson, why can’t you see that you have a life here? Your perfect little Sara is long gone. You need to let her go.”
“Did you ever think that maybe I’m just not that into you?”
He moves closer, his eyes shooting daggers at me.
“My tastes in a girlfriend are quite high, and much different than my lower standards for a fuck. Pussy is pussy, Victoria, and yours is nothing special.”
I force myself not to cry in front of him, but the tears come anyway. Shoving him in the chest to get him as far from me as I can, I run out the door.
Only a couple of brothers are in the bar, the others choosing to bask in the sunshine. Working my way through the room, I try my best to hide my pain as I run across the lot to the main house.
“How many times did he climb through her window?” I mutter to myself as I push open the front door.
Mom and Bonnie’s voices trickle out from the kitchen, so I head upstairs and lock myself in the bathroom.
“He probably climbed through her window every single night. Perfect little Sara Lancaster.”
Kicking the side of the tub, I groan in pain from my toe and fall to the floor. Even through the pain, I can’t stop thinking of why I don’t seem good enough for him? Or even just enough?
Fuck this. I’m not sitting around on the floor like some lovesick fool. Above all, fuck Luca Jackson. I’m going home.
Flipping the lock over, I swing open the door too hard, and find Luca out in the hall.
He looks over his shoulder, seeming relieved to see me. Did he come looking for me?
“What? Was there something you forgot to say that would dig that knife in a little deeper?” I snap, wiping at my eyes.
“I came to say sorry. I didn’t mean any of that shit. I don’t even know why I said it.”
And the world fucking stops.
Luca is apologising.
What the hell do I do with that?