Page 27

Jennifer

I stirred awake, my heart leaping wildly in my chest as the mattress dipped and Dylan slipped into bed beside me, his warmth filling an ache I’d been trying to deny.

After everything—the fight memory, his headache, the hospital—he’d chosen me.

My breath caught, joy and relief flooding me, and I turned gingerly, mindful of the bandages still guarding his healing ribs, to cuddle against his side, resting my head on his arm.

His chest was bare, save for the bandages wrapping his torso, and his skin radiated heat, warming away my cold.

“Dylan,” I whispered, my voice thick with love, and he tilted his head, his lips finding mine in a tender kiss—full of promise, apology, and love—stitching us back together. I kissed him back, pouring in my own intent, my strength, my faith in us.

He pulled back, his expression loving but tired. “I’m okay, Jen,” he said, reading my worry. “No brain bleed, just stress from remembering. In other news, ribs are healing faster than they thought.”

My smile was brief. I traced a gentle finger along his jaw, relief easing my chest. “The doctors said you should rest.”

He grinned, that bold edge I loved sparking through his pain. “I’m not fragile, nor am I reckless. But I do want to feel you against me.” His voice dropped, husky, his hand sliding to my hip, pulling me closer.

I laughed, a hunger for him pulsing through me despite my caution. “I thought we were going to wait.”

“If my brain can survive what it remembered today,” he said, eyes glinting, “my body can survive what we’ve both been waiting for.”

“We’ll have to be careful,” I said, my tone teasing but firm, my strength holding steady.

He reached into his pocket, producing a condom with a playful smirk. “Brought this.”

I burst out laughing, the sound light, our friendship easing the weight. “I meant with your ribs, Dylan. Though your optimism is appreciated.”

He waggled his brows. “I’ve been using my time off to plot creative solutions. Don’t worry, doc said laughter’s good for recovery, so I fully intend to make you giggle and moan.” His voice dropped, low and wicked.

I laughed again, fire blooming in my chest and between my thighs. “You’re impossible.”

“But not fragile,” he countered, and then his lips found mine—soft and slow, coaxing my mouth open for him. I tasted relief, longing, the weeks of wanting and waiting and worrying finally breaking.

I straddled him carefully, pressing close enough that he could feel how much I needed him, but careful not to jostle his ribs.

His hands slid under my nightshirt, fingers feather-light, brushing the underside of my breasts until my nipples peaked, aching for more.

He watched my face, hungry, patient, making me laugh even as my body started to tremble.

“You’re beautiful, Jen—every inch, always have been,” he said, reverent, his thumbs circling my nipples through the thin fabric.

I shed my garment and he grinned, wolfish, cupping my breasts and making a pleased sound in his throat. “You’ve been hiding these from me for too long.”

I brushed my nose against his, teasing, “I had to make sure you survived long enough to deserve them.”

He laughed, winced a little, and I softened instantly. “Are you sure?”

Desire burned in his eyes. “I’ve never been more sure. Besides, I think a little oral therapy is the perfect prescription.”

“Doctor’s orders, huh?”

He pulled my nipple between his lips, flicking his tongue, sucking, then letting go with a pop that sent a jolt straight to my core. “I’m sure they would approve.”

I shifted down his body, settling between his legs, careful of his bandages. “Then purely for medicinal purposes...”

He started to protest, but I silenced him with a single, slow lick up his shaft. His breath hitched; his hands fisting in my hair.

“Jen—oh, fuck—careful, don’t—” His words trailed off into a strangled moan as I took him in my mouth, tongue swirling.

I set a slow, teasing pace, letting him feel every inch.

He arched into me, groaning, but never pushing, his free hand gripping the sheets.

When I looked up, his eyes were wild, nearly desperate.

“I can’t believe this is real,” he murmured. “You are—God, you’re so fucking sexy.”

I grinned around him, then pulled off and pressed kisses up his chest. “No sudden movements, hero. Let’s see if we can get creative.”

I straddled him again, guiding his hand to my inner thigh. “You remember what the nurse said about blood pressure?” I teased. “I’ll do all the work tonight.”

He laughed, but it dissolved into a shudder as my fingers found my own clit, circling in time with the rocking of my hips. His hand joined mine, fingers skilled and tender, working me in tandem, his voice a rumble, “Let me help you. Fall apart for me, baby.”

I leaned back, rolling my hips, letting the pleasure build, higher and higher, until I was riding the edge. “You want to see me come?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, awe and hunger tangled in his voice. “God, yes.”

He rubbed, rolled, teased, then suddenly—fire. My orgasm hit like a wave, and I collapsed over him, breathless and giggling, my heart racing, every muscle tingling.

He stroked my hair as I recovered. “You’re dangerous, Jennifer.”

I caught my breath, then whispered in his ear, “So are you.”

He grinned, his thumb stroking my cheek, then trailed down my neck, over my collarbone, finding my sensitive spots. “Turnabout’s fair play,” he said, voice playful. “Lie back.”

I did, and he took his time—slow, deliberate, almost worshipful—kissing a path from my lips down my chest, across my stomach, until he settled between my legs.

He tasted me with that same blend of humor and reverence, teasing with his tongue, swirling, then darting inside.

When he started humming—on purpose, the brat—I laughed, the sensation making my legs shake, my laughter dissolving into cries as his tongue worked magic.

“Dylan—oh my God—Dylan—”

He kept going until I came again, this one softer, slower, my body shuddering. He kissed my thigh, grinning. “This has to be good for healing. I’m already feeling better.”

I couldn’t stop laughing. “You’re impossible. I’m sure this wasn’t on the instructions the doctor sent you home with.”

“I’m sure it should have been.” He slid up beside me, gathering me into his arms. “I love you,” he whispered, so tender it nearly broke me.

“I love you too.”

He ran a hand over my curves, tracing every inch like he needed the memory. “Are you ready?” he asked, reaching for the condom, his gaze searching mine.

I nodded. “Yes. Just be careful.”

He rolled it on, then guided me on top, letting me control the pace.

I sank onto him slowly, carefully, feeling every inch, every stretch.

We found a rhythm—slow, deliberate, him holding my hips, me rising and falling, both of us groaning, laughing, gasping.

Every thrust was careful, but the passion behind it was wild and free.

When I came this time, it was with a whispered plea, his name on my lips, my heart laid bare. He followed, shuddering, holding me tight, burying his face in my neck.

We lay tangled for a long time, just breathing, laughing softly, kissing the sweat from each other’s skin. I could have stayed in that moment forever.

He kissed my forehead, smiling. “Turns out, orgasms and laughter really are the best medicine.”

I grinned, kissing him back. “Please don’t tell your doctor how I healed you.”

He chuckled, but made no promises.

We lay tangled, his arm around me, savoring the feel of each other for a long time. I could have spent forever in that moment.

Later, much later, he kissed my forehead and said, “I understand why I blocked out the memory of our fight.”

“You do?”

“I was cruel—to you, to my parents. I don’t know how they forgave me, how you forgave me.”

I hugged him gently, my strength steady. “You were hurt,” I said, my voice firm but kind. “We both were. And I wasn’t perfect either. The way I involved your parents, how I stormed out, threw the ring at you—it took two of us to make that dance as bad as it was.”

He sighed. “There’s so much you don’t know. So much you need to know.”

There in the quiet of the night, he told me a story that started with a man named Thane coming to see him with a warning and ended with him discovering he had a twin.

I held back tears when he described the experiment Simmons had orchestrated and how many lives it had affected.

He told me how he’d gone to Mark to tell him he was also in danger, but had instead, once again, acted like the dick Steven accused him of being.

He rubbed my back absently while he shared, “Mark’s family left that stuffed elephant.

They stayed by my bed, even after I hurt them.

They’re good people. I need to do better.

I’m not proud of who I’ve been. And I don’t think I liked myself until I lost my memory. ”

I propped up, my heart open. “I understand because there was a lot I didn’t like about myself before you were hurt. Seeing you like that stripped back all the lies I’d told myself and I didn’t like what I saw. It was easy to blame you rather than face my own issues.”

“We’re both a little fucked up.”

“Or we were.”

He chuckled at that. “Some sick bastard thought he could choose who I’d become, but we are not defined solely by what happens to us.

We must be more than that. It’s tempting to be angry that someone played God with my life, but I’m so tired of being angry—especially now that I’ve tasted what life would be like if I wasn’t. ” He kissed me softly.

“In the hospital, Steven implied we might be in danger. Are we still?”

“I don’t know.” He met my gaze, a spark of resolve igniting. “Zachary had journals and a list of all the twins that had been separated. Someone stole it and threatened to not only come after me and Mark to “clean up the mess” but also threatened them if they kept looking for more twins.”

“Are the police involved?”

“Part of the experiment included placing one of the twins with a wealthy family. These are the kind of people who don’t want their secrets exposed and they have the means of handling it on their own.”

“So, what do we do now?”

“We bring them here,” he said, voice steady. “Thane, Zachary, Jesse, Scott, Mark... everyone. And we get some answers.”

“Do you think they’ll come?”

“From everything I’ve learned of them—yes. I don’t know what that meetup will be like, but I want you and my parents to be part of it. I want to face this, like I want to face everything going forward, together.”

I nodded. “Together.”

It’s how we were meant to be.