Twist My Heart by Brooke Taylor (ebook audio reader .txt) 📕

I thanked her before turning on my heel, eager to find Nik. He wouldn’t have left me. Something had to be wrong.

Aimee scrambled after me as I made my way toward the shoe salesman. “Thea, wait! I forgot to give you the link we talked about.”

“I’ll call you and get it. Thanks again for all your help.”

“No, stop!” Aimee grasped my wrist, jerking me to a halt. Her flesh burned as it wrapped mine. Biting back my fear, I struggled to remain calm and not act like a guilty fugitive. Maybe she hadn’t seen the ID. But what if she had? Where was Nik? I needed him here.

Breathe, a voice calmly whispered as if inside my brain. I visualized reciprocating the grip she had on my wrist, twisting her elbow as I turned my body to bring her in closer, slamming my shoulder into hers. The momentum would dislodge her weight to her heels and if I shook her grip free, I could easily shove her off balance, giving me space and time to get away.

Aimee released my wrist and casually pointed in the opposite direction of where I’d been heading. “Isn’t that your friend?”

I turned to see Nik approaching the dressing room where we’d tried on jeans. A rush of relief spread through me, followed by a flood of embarrassment for having just envisioned assaulting her. Flashing the fakest smile in history, I thanked her again, then I got the hell out of there.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“I’m really needing steak and beer—man shit, you know?” Nik said as he finished loading the car with my shopping bags. “Get my testosterone levels back to normal.”

I turned from supervising Titan’s potty break to look at him. Between the military-style pants and a T-shirt that could’ve been poured over his broad shoulders and muscled arms, he screamed manly man. Never mind the chiseled jaw perfectly shadowed in stubble and the intense, panty-melting eyes. And let’s talk about those hands… So strong they could crush almost anything, yet with gentle ease were capable of delivering exquisite pleasure. My body thrummed with a vivid replay of how deft those fingers of his were. “It’ll take a helluva lot more than a couple of hours of shopping to put a dent in your testosterone levels.”

“Couple of hours? That all? Damn, time moves faster in the Hindu Kush than at the Boulder Mall.”

“I don’t know what any of that means, but thank you for helping me even if it wasn’t fun for you. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t impale your eyeball with that lip pencil in the cosmetics department. Looked like you were giving it some serious thought.”

“I would’ve, but the color didn’t go well with my pretty green eyes,” he replied flatly.

“I’m sure the makeup consultant would’ve helped you find a more flattering shade to gouge them out with, if you had been nicer to her.” Earlier he’d puffed his chest at the lady, nearly making her cry. I’d had to shoo him all the way to the men’s watch counter to keep her hand from shaking or my own eye would’ve been poked out.

“She was trying to sell you stuff you don’t need.”

“Women wear makeup, don’t they?”

“She wasn’t showing you makeup. She was trying to make you look different with all that highlighting and shadowing bullshit,” he said with enough irritation you’d have thought the makeup lady had assaulted me.

Truthfully, I couldn’t see ever putting more than a little bit of blush, gloss, and maybe mascara on—like what Aimee wore. Maybe I could call her and ask what she used? If she’d even talk to me after how rude I’d been running out on her.

“Besides, she wanted to cover up your freckles,” he continued.

More than my freckles, she’d been trying to hide the remnants of bruising. The small lacerations in my hairline had made her clutch her necklace and go straight for the heavy cover-up, all while fretting the wounds would leave a “nasty scar”.

My hand had gone up, covering my face as my finger felt for the most noticeable cut, when Nik stopped me. “I like looking at your freckles. At you.”

“Even bruised and scarred?”

“I hate that you were hurt, but surviving only makes you more beautiful.” He thrust out a pack of wet wipes from his medical kit.

I stifled a laugh at his audacity, but plucked out a few towelettes. I couldn’t wait to take the heavy makeup off and started swabbing my face immediately. “Well, since I tortured you with shopping, I guess I’ll let you see my freckles again.”

“Better.” With a small smile he dropped a soft kiss to the healing cut at my hairline, before running a finger down the bridge of my nose. “You look like you again.”

Me. I’d thought I was figuring out who I was until I’d nearly assaulted my first potential girlfriend. Where had those visions come from? Were they memories or intuition? And more importantly, what had I even been thinking, trying to make be friends with her when I couldn’t even be honest about who I was?

Nik’s finger coiled in my hair. “It wasn’t all torture. There were a few parts I mildly enjoyed.”

I vividly recalled the lingerie department and the look in his eyes he demanded I see. “Mildly enjoyed, my ass.”

“I greatly enjoy your ass. Remind me to send a thank you note to your friend for helping you show it off perfectly in those jeans.”

“Wait until you see it in these yoga legging things she turned me onto.”

Nik rumbled in appreciation. “Yoga pants are proof God still loves me despite all my evil deeds.”

Most of what I’d bought I’d picked for comfort and necessity. But if I’d caught Nik’s eyes darkening or if his teeth had raked his bottom lip or if my good friend the jaw flex had popped out, I’d made sure those items made it to the register too. If it had made him walk funny, I got it in multiple colors. Turned out he