Love Turns With Twisted Fates 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

clever?” I wonder if he can hear in
my voice that my smile reaches ear to ear. I hear it.
    “That’s not an answer,” he chastises me.
    I know he’s going to make this sexual, but as answers go,
“Top.”
    “That’s good ‘cause I’m a bottom guy myself—,” oh here we
go . “It’s not that I don’t looooove the top, it’s just I prefer the view
from the bottom.” When I’m silent, he chuckles and then continues, “And being
on the bottom might seem like a lazy choice for a guy of my size,” I choke, he
laughs fully aware of how he’s affecting me. “But I feel like I have more
options on the bottom, in some ways more control. The bottom is there to hold
the top up, stabilizing the top if necessary. It’s definitely more of a hands-on
situation than being on top. Then again, I do like being on top, too.” He hums
like he’s trying to think of something. “In fact, I think some of my best
performances have been after spending the night on top.”
    “Oh hell,” I blurt out as the image of us as a beautiful
knot of naked limbs and sweat plays out in my mind.
    “What’s wrong, Izzy? You don’t like bunk beds?”
    “Oh, I like bunk beds, but I’m not opposed to the floor, the
couch, or the beach. Ever have sex on the beach, Diego?”
    There’s a cough and a sputter. I think he may have spit out
his drink. “Fuck. Whaaa—?”
    “The drink, have you had it?” Having regained my wits, I can
turn the tables on him.
    “I have not had one. I’d be willing to try it with you.”
    “Mr. Charming,” I reprimand. “Why if we did that, I’d be
breaking the law and furnishing alcohol to a minor,” I say in mock horror.
    His laugh is unmistakably filled with amusement and
frustration. “And you said I was trouble? Since sex is on the table, or beach.
What’s your number?”
    “My number?” I can’t hide my confusion. “Umm, you do realize
you just called me on the only number I have, right?”
    His chuckle is cute and teasing. “Not exactly the number I
was talking about.”
    The wheels are turning in my head, but fuck if I can think
of a numbe— ohhhh . “Wow. Guess we really are going to test whether or not
we want a second date.”
    “Oh, we want a second date,” Diego tells me as if it’s the
plain and simple truth. “And while I don’t doubt that given your fucking
hotness your number could be high, I seriously doubt it could be high enough to
send me away. Then again…” his voice fades with a light-hearted laugh.
    I never answer the question and a hush falls over our
conversation. It’s not awkward or pressured. The lull allows me to calm my
breath and steady my racing heart.
    When the moment passes, the conversation starts as it
stopped alternating between question and answer. I learned that his mom got
really sick when he was little, but never got better. He didn’t give details
and I didn’t pry. He asked about my major and was clearly shocked that I was a
graduate student. I asked about his major, he was undecided. We stopped keeping
track of whose turn it was and we fell into an easy conversation. We kept
things simple, not exposing much below the surface.
    He told me about his grandfather and Sebastian and I may have
choked a little at the mention of his friend. He relieved me of my guilt by
accepting responsibility for making our running into each other tonight happen.
    “How could that be possible, D?” He doesn’t call me on my
nickname for him. “I didn’t plan on going to the gym tonight.”
    “Nor was I planning on going to that gym.”
    A silence stretches between us. I’m waiting for him to
explain. I don’t see the connection.
    “Every day since that night I met you when you were out with
Sebastian, I’ve gone a little out of my way to cross your path, Izzy.” His soft
chortle sounds a little self-deprecating. He explained that he’d tried to get
someone in admissions to help find me. “But the woman was a battle axe, all by
the book and