Page 19 of The Twins

Our plates were taken away and our main course arrived. Finn ordered a bottle of white wine.

The bubbles had gone to my head, and I giggled as they told me a story of scrumping apples when they were teenagers and being chased by an angry bull.

“We’ll take you one day,” Cillian said and set his knife and fork together on his empty plate. “To Ireland, that is.”

“I’d like that. I’ve been to Dublin but never out of the city.”

“It’s a date.” Finn chuckled. “And our ma will love you.”

I laughed. “Apart from the fact I am not ready to meet your family, how on earth would you explain this?” I pointed at them both then tapped my chest. “Three of us.”

Finn moved closer and whispered in my ear, “So you think my brother’s hot?”

His breath was warm on my neck as I looked at Cillian. Fuck, yes. The man was hot with his shamrock tat and a hint of body hair peeking from his crisp white shirt. And the way he set his attention on me, like he wanted to make me come—I wondered if Finn had told him about my orgasm in the stationery cupboard at the courthouse. “Yes, I like your brother.”

“The way you like me?” Finn asked against my ear.

I turned to him, our lips almost brushing we were so close.

“I need to get to know him better. I need to get to know both of you better.”

“So get to know us, doll.” He paused and touched his nose to mine. “Get to know everything.”

“Are you sure? I get the feeling you’re not exactly squeaky clean if I start digging.”

“We have dirty thoughts from time to time,” Cillian said, scooting in behind me so that I was in an Irish man sandwich. “Like now. About you. Dirty thoughts about you, Rebecca.”

A tremble of desire went through me. This was a taste of things to come. Both of them, like this, surrounding me, their total attention on me. Fuck. My heart was clattering and my muscles tense. “When are you next at Fight Fit?” I managed.

“Why?”

“Answer the question.” I dragged in a deep breath.

Cillian chuckled. “We’re there all week, all weekend, too. Only day we’re not is Monday, it’s closed.”

“Good, I’ll come see you in action.”

“There are other ways you could see us in action.” Finn set his hand on my thigh and ran it upward, bunching the material of my dress that was luckily hidden beneath the table.

“Can I clear the table?” A waiter appeared.

I snapped my attention to him.

Cillian and Finn stayed close. Finn’s hand stayed on my thigh.

“Sure,” Cillian said. “Thanks.”

“Would you like the dessert menu?”

“What do you think, Rebecca?” Finn asked, his fingertips stroking the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “Need more?”

“I…er…no, thank you. I’ve had plenty to eat.”

“Just the bill,” Cillian said.

“Certainly, sir.”

“You do know,” Finn murmured, “that we could address any other hungers that need satisfying.”