Love Turns With Twisted Fates 2 Read Online Free PDF

his comment. “My dad claimed that if breaking
my wrist was fate stepping in, than fate sure was twisted.”
    Diego’s laugh is infectious, rumbling through the phone.
“You have no idea how true that is, Izzy.”
    “My turn,” I taunt. “You said you were here on a
scholarship. What sport do you play?”
    His laugh is a full roar with just a hint of something else. Unease? “Oh, Izzy…” he says my name like a plea and my mind wanders to what
that would sound and feel like tangled in the sheets with him. “You’re so sure
I’m a jock.”
    “Oh my gawd! You do look in the mirror, right?” I ask, the
incredulity in my voice unmistakable. “You’re built like a fucking brick house,
you were working out late tonight, and you eat enough to make the average
active person fat. Not to mention you said something about curfew and a bid day
tomorrow. So yeah, I’m pretty sure you’re a jock.” I pause to consider the
possibilities. “If I had to guess, I’d say football or baseball, tight end or
short stop.”
    “Well, you’re kinda wrong and kinda right.” I wait for him
to continue. “I don’t play baseball, I have a tight end and there’s nothing
short about me.”
    “Ha. So you play football!” I get a little excited that I figured
it out.
    His nervous chuckle is not lost on me. “Yes and no.”
    His answers are confounding. “All right Mr. Vague, spill!” My
patience is running thin with his indirect answers.
    “Well,” he starts, “I do play football,” saying it with a
bit of an accent.
    I consider what he’s said when he doesn’t continue right
away. Oh no . I realize my slip-up as I connect what he just said to my
years of studying Spanish.
    “But you know it as soccer,” he puts the nail in my coffin.
    “Fuck me,” I say barely audible. It’s all I can muster with
my foot in my mouth. I’m not sure how long he lets me suffer in the silence
before he breaks it and puts me out of misery.
    “Don’t worry, Izzy. You’ll love soccer soon enough,” he
really doesn’t sound put off.
    “Is that so?” I toss back, slightly annoyed with his
presumptuousness. “If my dad couldn’t, what makes you think you can?”
    “ Bella—”
    “Bella?” I interrupt. That’s the third time he’s
called me that.
    “ Bella ,” he repeats. “It means beauty, beautiful in
Spanish.” He then pronounces my first name as it would be pronounced in
Spanish, ee-sa-bay-ya . “ Izabella . The fact that beauty is in your
name only further proves my point. Your beauty was literally written into your
name.”
    “You’re good,” I admit with a soft chuckle. “Probably so
good, you’re trouble,” mumbling the rest.
    “ Bella , my skills off the field will have you begging
to see my skills on the field and I’m all kinds of trouble.” Letting me know he
caught my mumblings. “But something about you tells me you like trouble. Maybe
I’m just the trouble you’re looking for.”
    “Mmmm,” the sound coming off way more sexy than indifferent.
    “After that sound coming from your mouth…” He pauses,
probably for dramatic effect and possibly to make me nervous. I assume. I’m definitely
a little nervous. “Pleasure or pain?”
    I surprise myself with my immediate answer, “Both.”
    Diego coughs out a laugh. “You don’t even know what I was
talking about. I was wondering what you like most about getting tattooed. I
noticed you had a few.”
    “Both. Pretty sure that answer will ring true for a lot of
things.” He falls silent and I don’t interrupt. Let him think about all the possibilities for ‘both’.
     “Oh, Izzy,” I imagine him saying this in another scenario
with less clothes and distance between us. I’m not sure, but I think the moan I
just heard came from me. His hormone tingling laugh says he heard it, too. “Top
or bottom?”
    I clear my throat with an, “Excuse me?”
    “Top or bottom,” he repeats, “bunk?” he finishes.  
    “Ah ha. Aren’t you fucking