Twister: Party Games, Book 3 Read Online Free Page A

gut clenched. He ground his teeth, balling his hands at his side. Damn it, she’d played him like a foolish boy.
    A foolish boy with a dick so hard it’s a wonder your fly hasn’t burst open yet. When was the last time you felt so aroused? Months? Years? Or thirty minutes ago when you first saw her climb out of her car?
    The thought made his stomach knot. “So, you did lie,” he stated, doing his best to keep his voice low. He could feel the increasing attention of a curious audience like ants crawling on his back. Most of Lil’s invited guests would know exactly who he was. Most of the country damn well did, so why would all the people crammed into his home be any different? The last thing he wanted was some party-goer tweeting about McDermott Jnr having a meltdown in his own house, or posting the accompanying images on YouTube.
    The woman shifted her weight, just enough for her thighs to brush his again, a brief contact that sent fresh heat into his dick.
    “I didn’t,” she said, an ambivalent calm falling over her beautiful countenance. “I haven’t been the model Kole for a long time.”
    A hot jolt of tension shot through Lachlan’s groin. A low grunt of contempt sounded at the back of his throat. “Semantics? You’re going with that defense?”
    Her lips, swollen and glistening from his hungry possession, pulled into an ambiguous smile. “I didn’t realize we were at war, Lachlan McDermott. It didn’t seem that way but a second ago. Tell me, what does the victor get?”
    He narrowed his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the aching hard-on in his jeans at her words. “Enjoy the rest of the party, Kole.”
    He turned and stalked down the stairs, not even remotely slowing down as he passed Mac. “I owe you a car.”
    His best friend let out a surprised laugh, but Lachlan didn’t stop to see what followed. He pushed his way through the throes of people enjoying themselves in his home, cursing his half-sister, his stepmother, his father and, finally running out of other people to blame for his utter weakness, cursing himself.
    Damn it. Of all the models…of all the women, why did she have to be Kole?
    An image of his teenage bedroom filled his head. Or more to the point, an image of the almost life-size poster of Kole pinned to the far wall of that room did.
    He ground his teeth, shutting down the unsettling memory, closing off the squirming heat working its way to his balls.
    No models, even if it was the model of his adolescent wet dreams. That was his rule and he never broke his own rules. Strictly no-involvement. Models, especially super models like Kole, brought little to life except unrealistic demands, inflated egos and shallow dinner talk. He’d grown up with one long enough to know that.
    Kole or not, throbbing hard-on or not, rock-hard balls or not, he wasn’t letting himself be weakened by her allure again. His father may not have ever learnt the lesson, but Lachlan wasn’t his father.
    “What the fuck are you doing?” Mac fell into step beside him, staring at Lachlan as if he’d grown an extra head.
    “Looking for Lillian,” Lachlan snarled. “I need to have a word with my sister.”
    Stop the charade. It’s not really Lil you’re angry at.
    “I’ve had a word with her already,” Mac grunted back, his jaw bunching. “Trust me, it won’t do you any good.”
    Lachlan shot his best friend a good hard glare. Something wasn’t right with the usually calm, detached lawyer tonight. Trouble was, something wasn’t right with Lachlan tonight either. “You knew about this…this…shin-dig?”
    Mac held up his hands, shaking his head. “Fuck, no. I was as surprised as you when I walked in the door. But that’s not the issue I’m interested in at the moment. I just witnessed you doing a fairly good job of playing tonsil hockey with the woman you’ve fantasized about ever since I met you, a woman every straight man on the planet would give his left nut to even talk to let alone kiss,