Page 28 of Twins for the Enemy

Chapter twenty

~KIERAN~

I crumple the sandpaper and run my hand over the plank. The deep hue of the wood looks good enough that I may not need to apply a stain.

As I rub my hand over my jaw, my latest callouses scratch my skin. Some scruff has grown in as well, a recurring problem now that I can’t find the capacity to give a shit about anything.

I peer out the window. The three deer are still in the yard.

It’s different from being in my mansion, where the view of the deer is usually from the second floor.

Even on the first floor of the mansion, the deer stayed near the creek on the other side of the yard.

These deer graze on the clover I planted, only raising their heads to give me a look of bewilderment that I’m still inside the house three weeks later.

When I bought this house, it was only to trick Farah into coming to me. Neal told me about the cleaning service that paid her under the table, and when I arranged for her to work here, I relished in the idea of her shock and fear.

But I saw her, and it changed me.

It wasn’t just the aggression—I felt her in my bloodstream, like something electric.

She made the world sharper, louder, more alive.

Suddenly I could hear music in the city noise, see beauty in everything that moved.

I still grasp those things, but it’s much less interesting now.

With Farah, I could enjoy the wonders of the world, but it feels empty now to see them without her.

I dream of her every night. Sometimes, it’s a simple dinner or unpacking boxes together. Sometimes, my mouth is on the nape of her neck as we lie in bed before my hand moves down her spine and to the small of her back.

I should resent the reminders, but sometimes I drink too much to fall asleep early and visit her.

I lean the plank of wood against the wall with the others.

I head back into the kitchen, where Ellie had left some muffins she’d bought.

With no insulation after I’d torn down some walls, the sound of the plastic snapping as I open the container seems to fill the house.

I take out a muffin and bite into it. A bit dry, but the blueberries add an edge of sweetness that helps me to finish it quickly.

A car pulls up to the house. It’s from that ridesharing company, EnginePeer, with its telltale logo of a V8 engine with two large white eyes and a puff of blue smoke trailing behind it.

When she steps out from the back, fumbling to pay the man, it’s a rush.

She’s so ethereal, I must have fallen back asleep and the exhaustion is making her painfully real. The soft waves of her hair sway and collide with her nervous but playful movements. Her body moves in a similar way. It’s a lightning strike between sensual and endearing.

I’d take cardiac arrest and chronic pain for a single moment of holding that lightning.

When I go to the door, I’m certain by the time my eyes are on the driveway again, she’ll be gone. But as I step out to the porch, she’s still there.

As the car drives away, she turns and sees me.

She’s springtime after a winter that stretched for years. When she smiles at me, it’s like seeing green shoots push through frozen ground—proof that something beautiful survived.

“Hey,” I say. I need to memorize that smile and slip it in my pocket for safekeeping.

“Hey.”

“How did you know to come here?” I ask.

“I stopped at your house. Your staff told me you were here,” she says. “I didn’t think you actually bought this house.”

“It’d been foreclosed. I’d planned on getting rid of it, but—” I stop. “Farah, I shouldn’t have made decisions behind your back. I should have given you a chance to talk to Neal first. I don’t regret talking to Neal because it means you’re free, but I should have been a better man about it.”

“Kieran.” She nervously runs her hand over the strap of her bag.

“I should be the one apologizing. Even at the time, I understood why you did it without telling me, and it was my brother’s responsibility to reach out to me before he turned himself in.

I wanted to punish you more than I wanted my brother to face punishment, and I know now that it’s because I was clinging to this idea that I could save him.

I thought I could say or do the right thing and he’d be the brother I once knew.

I needed to be a martyr to feel like I was a good person, and you saw the flaws in that. You saw more than that in me. ”

She’s stepped up so close to me that when the wind passes through, her hair tickles my arms. The faint scent of jasmine hooks around me, bringing me back to our first night together.

“How are you?” I ask, scrutinizing her face to see any trace of exhaustion or illness. There’s a trace of tiredness in her eyes, but she looks healthy. Happy.

“I’ve missed you,” she says. “It’s very annoying to miss someone.”

“I agree. We both have some things to make up for.” I indicate to the house. “Come inside. I want to show you around.”

When she takes a step forward, I take her hand. As I lead her up to the house, she stops. I turn and see her staring at the deer.

“Wow,” she says. “Are they always around?”

“I planted some clover for them. I thought you might like them around.”

Her brow furrows. “For me? ”

“For you and the twins.” I tug on her hand and she continues to follow me to the house.

I open the door and gesture inside. She steps in, her eyes looking over the bare bones of the structure.

“You told me you wanted the kids to go to a public school. When I looked into good public schools, this was one of the best ones. The town has a low crime rate. This house has three bedrooms for you and the twins. I understand that you didn’t want me around, but I needed you and the twins to live in a house that I was sure was safe. I needed you to be happy.”

She grasps my face, kissing me deeply. All the numbness that had built up in me over the last month implodes, sending sensations through me that run deeper than an ocean.

My hand curves around under her jaw. As her mouth opens, kissing me, it pushes down my fingers enough that I feel the flutter of her pulse.

Our hands move, shedding clothes like leaves off a tree in autumn, while our legs stumble toward the other rooms. The backs of her feet and my toes hit against the settee against the curved bay window, which looks over wildflowers growing in the yard.

When we’re down to our underwear, we stumble onto the settee. My thumbs hook on her panties, pulling them down as her hot breath leaves faint condensation on the curve of my neck. Her hands fumble as she tries to get my briefs off, and I take the moment to relearn the map of her body.

I press kisses down the path of her clavicle, over the fullness of her breasts, down her abdomen, across the slight curve of her belly, with a slight swell from where the twins are growing.

And I know there’s nothing in this world I want more.

Not just her. Not just us. But them. The two miracles that held us together through our storm.

I already love them more than I know how to say.

She twitches when my tongue drags down the crease of her thigh. Then I taste her.

I let my tongue slip inside. Her hips buck upward, colliding against my mouth, but I press my tongue even harder against her sweetness, the tip of my tongue brushing against her clit before plunging back inside her.

This is what tongue muscles are meant for—her fingers gripping onto my hair, her body rising like it’s possessed, and vibrations moving from her pussy to her throat.

“God, Jesus, Christ,” she gasps, voice wrecked and beautiful.

She’s half-praying, half-blaspheming, and I fucking love that I’m the one who makes her lose herself like this.

I’d had a plan to be romantic and take her slowly, drive her to a limit that she didn’t know she had, but I can’t stand it any longer.

I rise over her. The settee is small, my frame barely fitting on it with her between my legs, but I’m not in the mood to be cautious. Her right knee hangs over the edge, so when I push into her, I feel it jerk up against my ribs.

Motherfucker. Her walls squeeze me, wet and hot and fucking perfect, and I swear—nirvana isn’t this good.

She must feel the vibrations of the sound that comes out of me as she wraps around me, pulling me so possessively that I’d swear she was jealous of anything outside of us, and I understand because I feel the same.

Our hips brush against each other as I press into her slowly, keeping my eyes on her.

Her lips are slightly parted as she looks back at me and her brow is pushed together like she’s taken back by the moment.

As I pull out, her breath seems to leave her.

I could watch her forever like this, a woman taken into the flame of desire.

She’s moving through the fire and becoming part of it, and I’d do that for her every moment of every day.

Her hands grip my shoulders like I’m the only thing anchoring her to the earth.

My body locks over hers, forearms caging her in, and I watch her as I roll my hips into her, slow at first, grinding against that sweet spot inside her.

As I thrust into her harder, her nails sink into my arm.

I cup my hands around her head, the strands of her hair falling between my fingers.

Her head arches backward, exposing her neck in a way that I can’t help but lean down and leave my mark on it.

Her hand presses against the window, the heat from her hand creating an outline of steam around it. From the noises she’s making, I know she’s close and I’m barely clinging to any semblance of control .

I ram so hard into her that her head and shoulders curve up against the wall and we’re slipping. It’s a reckless abandon. Her hands cling onto the cushion. Dust rises up around us and the sun is streaming through the window, causing a glow against her face.