Twisted By Desire (Lust, Desire and Love Trilogy #1)

  Twisted by Desire

  Lust, Desire, and Love Trilogy (Book 1)

  Desiree A. Cox

  Copyright © 2014 Desiree A. Cox

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner without the written consent of the publisher/author, except in brief quotations embedded in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters and incidents in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or not, is purely coincidental.

  This book contains explicit sex, language, and sexual situations. It is written for the mature reading audience (18+) and isn’t suitable or intended for younger readers or readers who are uncomfortable reading about this content.

  Published by Desiree A. Cox

  Cover Art: Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design

  www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

  Editor: Melissa Gray Editing

  www.melissagrayediting.com

  Dedication

  I am sending a silent thank you and special dedication with lots of love to my Dad. He may be gone but will never be forgotten. He has been with me every day, in my heart and in my mind, since his passing.

  I have always said ‘like Daddy, like daughter’ and this book is proof that I was right, no matter how many times he told me to stop saying that.

  Acknowledgment

  I would be remiss if I didn’t pay homage to the fantastic people who supported and believed in me before I believed in myself.

  You have all encouraged me to write and keep writing. You’ve allowed me to bounce ideas off of you, get your feedback, and even have read the works in progress, excerpts, or chapters for me. Thank you all.

  To my husband, whom I am still madly in love with after all these years, you are wonderful. I was the lucky girl to win your heart, and I’ll never let you go. I tell you every day I love you, but my words can’t express the magnitude of the feelings in my heart. You have supported me for many years – you are my rock and my best friend. I am nothing without you. We are in this life together, forever.

  To my very good friend, Ron. You planted the ‘write a book’ seed in my mind years ago. This genre is a little different than what we talked about many times in your office, but your encouragement got my wheels spinning. I love you and Holly, and thank you for giving me the push to explore writing for real.

  To my three amazing kids, technically adults now, but always my babies; each of you are fantastic in your own unique way. I loved raising you, you were perfect, no troubles, no sassiness, and … aw, who the hell am I kidding. I wanted to string each of you up at some point along the way. I’m glad I was able to restrain myself. I love talking to each of you, and not only being your mother, but also being your friend. I am proud of you all and love you all so much.

  Thank you to my two brothers and my sister-in-law for telling me to just go for it and write about whatever I want when I began second-guessing myself. Through writing and conversation, I have come to understand my family is still cool as hell. Yolanda - thank you for reading my draft copy for me. I love you all.

  Thank you, Monique, for reading my manuscript and providing feedback. You have been a great person to toss ideas out to and your suggestions have helped me more than you will ever know. I truly appreciate you, too. The wedding is coming in book two.

  I have a special thank you to Dorothy F. Shaw for helping me understand the craft of writing, especially show, don’t tell. Thanks to Kelli Dennis for my cover design, Melissa Grey for the editing, and Cyndi at Bookswagbag for my awesome swag. Thanks for helping me pull everything together.

  Thank you to the ladies at Book Partners in Crime Promotions, for everything you’ve done to help me from cover reveal to release. And a huge thank you to all the bloggers and reviewers. I appreciate you all!

  For everyone that has offered encouraging words, votes of confidence, and kept me sane – especially Debbie and Al, thank you.

  For my two special muses, you are both so beautiful and I love the hell out of you both.

  And last but definitely not least, thank you to my Mom and Dad. I hold in my heart decades of cherished memories that I could have only gotten from the both of you. I didn’t get to pick my parents, but if I could, I’d pick you both all over again. I love you and wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you both. I appreciate your love and support growing up, and throughout my life.

  If I forgot anyone, I apologize. There have been so many people that have offered words of encouragement or helped in some way to keep me going, I certainly don’t mean to leave you out.

  Chapter 1

  I used to believe in fairy tale romances where a princess was swept off her feet by a prince, they got married, and lived their happily ever after. Great story.

  After my six-year marriage ended up in divorce court, I wasn’t sure what to believe in anymore, but I knew that fairy tale shit was for the birds. And whoever came up with the saying ‘all you need is love’ didn’t realize utility and cellphone companies won’t take an ‘I love you’ for payment.

  I planned to be smarter the second time around, if there was even going to be a second time. I had no clear idea how to go about dating again; I had been out of the game for over six years. Times had changed, situations had changed. I wasn’t in college anymore, where the men were easily accessible. Hell, I didn’t even know what I was looking for in a man. To make things more difficult, I still loved my ex, Skylar. I held a special place in my heart for him and still craved his touch. Every single man I talked to or looked at ended up being compared to him, and then crossed off the list for one reason or another before they were even given a real chance.

  After my divorce, I spent a few months moping around, looking like someone had stolen my puppy. My mom and friends were quick to dish out plenty of ‘why don’t you try’ advice about getting onto an on-line dating website. Even if I did, which site would I sign up for? There’s like a bazillion of them to choose from. I’ve heard plenty of horror stories about some of them, too. Yeah, that’s just what I wanted in my life.

  I couldn’t bring myself to create a profile and have random, creepy single men looking for a quick hook-up or married men looking to cheat messaging me. Plus, the thought of meeting someone sight unseen didn’t appeal to me one bit. Sure, we could exchange pictures, but what if I met him and instead of him being tall, dark, and handsome like the picture he sent me, he was short, pale, and Quasimodo hideous? It would be just my luck to get cat-fished, stalked, or worse. What if the guy was a serial killer? I’m not trying to end up on Investigation Discovery like on those dating gone wrong stories.

  So I chose to ignore them and stick with what I do best, I took the safe route. Friday nights after work, I had a standing date with my co-workers. Candace, Georgia, Robert, Carla, and Tristan made up the regular group. Happy hour at the restaurant/bar down the street from our office had become my weekly opportunity to get out of the house for socialization, while trying to find someone worth dating.

  I liked the bar scene; it was easy, and I was in control. I could flirt without commitment. If they were interested and I was interested, we could talk or whatever. There was always someone that sparked at least a smidgen of interest and they normally showed plenty of interest back. But the night I met Jeff was different.

  ****

  The place was jam-packed, like every Friday night. The hostess’s waiting area was crammed tight with people squeezed together on the seats, holding their coaster-like buzzers in hand while others stood waiting shoulder to shoulder. The outside area was every bit as crowded, with a sliver of space just wide enough
to walk inside when a group was called.

  Georgia and I had left work around four-thirty, like we usually did on Friday afternoons, to beat most of the influx. We put our names on the list and were able to get seated while we waited for everyone else to join us. We were regulars at this spot. We got seated at a great table near the bar, making it perfect for us to see quite a bit of the restaurant. Being early was ideal for us; it gave us a chance to check out all the guys before the rest of the group -- well, Candace really -- showed up and tried to play matchmaker for us. As we scanned the place, we each doled out our ratings.

  “Look at the two geeky-looking guys at the bar.” Georgia laughed.

  “Oh, jeez, no way.” I giggled with her. “They are real nerds, probably discussing an upcoming Comic-con event or Star Trek convention.”

  “Pocket protectors for everyone.” We both laughed as we continued to look around.

  “What about the third-wheel guy sitting at the booth across from that couple?” She nodded her head in the direction she wanted me to look.

  “Uh, he doesn’t meet the height requirement for me, but I guess he isn’t bad looking. He’s actually kind of cute. What do you think?”

  “He’s not bad. I’d talk to him.”

  “His feet barely touch the floor.” We both laughed.

  We spent the next few minutes continuing our critiques. Today was the same as most other days; there wasn’t anyone in here that was worthy of pursuing, and the couple of guys who had potential were sitting next to a female.

  The rest of the team showed up and joined our party by five fifteen. We were all happy Jack had decided against coming out that night. We liked him, but since he was our manager, we didn’t feel comfortable enough to speak as freely in his presence.

  Everything seemed like a normal Friday until we heard voices get loud and stern. There was a lot of commotion by a group of patrons up near the hostess stand. “Are you freaking kidding me right now?” a female voice shrieked.

  We all turned our heads. Robert and I stood from our chairs to see who was getting bitched out.

  “This is total bullshit!”

  Everyone in the restaurant and bar area within earshot turned to see what the uproar was about. I watched as a fiery, petite woman with her eyebrows furrowed tight and her face reddened, shook her index finger in the face of the hostess at the podium. “That’s no way to treat us. We’ve been standing here for-fucking-ever!” she screamed. We were all up on our feet watching the scene play out by now.

  Pretty much everyone in there was aware of how pissed she was. She stormed out of the restaurant in a huff, with her friends following close behind her. She shoved the door open, snatching it out of the host’s hands, then grabbed it. Once her last friend cleared the door, she pushed back on it with all her might in a failed effort to slam it. I couldn’t help the large smile on my face as I watched her enraged exit.

  The chaos at the front of the restaurant almost overshadowed the two suit-clad men who walked in the double-door entryway and were immediately seated. They were the banes of everyone waiting’s existence and the eye candy I had been waiting for. As they strode past our table following the hostess, my attention and eyes darted from the activity in front to following them like radar as they were seated just on the other side of the half wall that separated the two tables.

  Bingo! We have a winner, folks.

  I wasn’t the only one who noticed them when they walked through. Candace made sure to point them out -- I mean literally point at them -- and whisper to Georgia and me how ‘hot’ they were. I took a sip of my drink, all of a sudden feeling parched. I almost choked when she suggested we go introduce ourselves. That’s not going to happen.

  He caught my attention with his long strides through the bustling restaurant in his fit-his-body-like-a-glove black suit, cream-colored dress shirt, and black tie. He looked like he had been peeled off the pages of GQ magazine and had life breathed into him. He was so tall, towering over everyone, with brown, somewhat disheveled hair. He had a very tight, serious, all-business look on his ruggedly handsome face, adorned with a salt and pepper low-cut beard, but no smile. His skin tone was a beautiful tan, a clear indication he wasn’t all business. He was panty-soaking perfect from head to toe.

  He looked like the men I labeled as untouchables. The guys who look perfect but are off limits because they are with someone, are famous, or make way too much money to know I even exist. He came in with another man who seemed much more relaxed and outgoing; he was talking, laughing, and carefree.

  “I don’t think hot is an appropriate description for mature, professional men. They should have a more classy description.”

  I liked to save hot to describe the thirty and under men, and both of them definitely looked over thirty to me. They also appeared to be higher-ups in the corporate world. My ex-husband, Skylar, was under thirty and was hot.

  “So how would you describe them?” Candace asked.

  “I don’t know… maybe something like, they exude sexiness, a certain je ne sais quoi.”

  “Yeah, like I said, they’re hot.” We all laughed.

  He was hot -- damn was he ever. An unmistakable confidence and sexiness dripped off of him like water off a duck’s back.

  Georgia, the only other single woman in our group, and I were again encouraged to go introduce ourselves. That’s part of the matchmaking crap we deal with every week; they spot them then tell us to go introduce ourselves. They line ‘em up and we’re supposed to go knock ‘em down.

  Introducing myself went against one of my rules; don’t introduce myself first. I had learned that lesson while I was in college, after my near-catastrophic freshman mistake. Not only had I been humiliated with the rude rejection after introducing myself to one of the starting football players, but I came close to getting beaten up by his girlfriend. I’m sure she would have kicked my ass; I’m not a fighter. After that little debacle, I’ve stuck to my guns on that rule and tell people I don’t want to make myself look desperate. I want a man to notice me, then be the initiator and introduce himself to me.

  Georgia and I both fell for it once and felt like complete asses when we found out the two guys, good-looking as they were, were a gay couple. I was so mad and embarrassed that I had let them talk me into doing that. But that night, I had dropped my guard and let myself end up looking like a fool.

  I had a couple of other rules that I tried to stick to when it came to men: don’t make the first phone call; don’t act like a stalker; don’t be materialistic; don’t be in a rush to tell a guy I love him; and don’t, under any circumstances, settle.

  Georgia wasn’t willing to run to their table either. She was more than happy with where she was in her life and not in a rush to have a man impose on her personal freedom. She rarely dated. She had high hopes of Mr. Right falling from the sky for her one day, but wasn’t rushing it. She’s thirty years old, not a spinster, not a beauty queen. She’s an average-looking five-foot-four-inch girl-next-door type of woman carrying about thirty pounds more than she should be, but she’s comfortable in her own skin, and I admired her for it.

  The longer I sat in my chair, the more restless I became. I needed a closer look at this guy and decided a trip to the restroom was in order because that was a direct path past their table. I pushed my chair back away from the large round table and stood to straighten my clothes, combing my fingers through my waist-length blonde hair.

  Tristan’s eyes popped open wide as he watched my mirrorless primping. He stared at me from head to toe, running his tongue over his bottom lip. Our eyes met when I glanced over at his boyish freckled face across the table. Tristan is a young Ron Howard look-a-like. He reminded me so much of Richie Cunningham from the Happy Days reruns. I turned away, avoiding any lengthy connection to him.

  My eyes caught Tristan’s again just in time to see him mouth ‘sexy’ to me. My nose wrinkled, and my lip curled as I tried to fight the onslaught of saliva that was flooding my mouth. I t
urned my eyes away from him in hopes he wouldn’t see the pained expression on my face.

  I shuddered at the thought that I had ever considered dating him. He was good for a drunken, horny one-nighter, but he wasn’t my type at all. And he was shorter than six feet, which is a deal breaker for me. Granted it was only by an inch, but he was still shorter than six feet. It might seem trivial to some, but I like what I like.

  I unbuttoned another button on my blouse and pulled the collars out toward my shoulders to reveal a little more cleavage. Georgia looked at Tristan still licking his lips, then shifted her eyes to me. She’s a huge advocate of an office love affair between us.

  I had my sights set on a target, a very tall, gorgeous target. Set to display my assets like bait to catch a fish, I took one more drink of my wine, tousled my hair one last time, and looked at Georgia. I was ready to begin my mission. “Walk with me to the restroom.”

  “I don’t need to pee.”

  “We’re just going to walk by the two guys that are on the other side of this wall.” I pointed my finger in case she wasn’t sure I meant the only wall near us.

  “I think I’ll pass,” she said.

  “Okay, but I just hate walking back there by myself.” I gave her my pouty face.

  “Fine, come on.” Way to take one for the team.

  I walked slowly, well aware of the embarrassment I’d feel if I tripped or twisted my ankle in my five-inch heels while walking past them trying to be cute. I tried very hard to keep my gaze forward and not look down at the two of them when I was close to their table, but I couldn’t help it. I shifted my glance downward, trying not to move my head too much. They both had their hands up on the table. I saw the ring on Mr. Personality’s finger, and no ring on Mr. Serious’. Neither man made any attempt to look in my direction. What the fuck?