Page 25

Tina

M y wife. Speechless, I stare at the three of them as realization washes over me. A whoosh of hysterical laughter escapes my lungs and I brace a hand on the counter. Dustin wasn’t with Blanche in the room next to me last night, it was his brother, Colin, and his wife Stacy. To think I almost marched in on them and gave them a piece of my mind.

A mind I clearly lost weeks ago when I decided this job was a good idea.

I hurry to the kitchen to make another omelet. On the way, I notice the rumpled linens on the couch in the family room like someone spent the night there. Tina James, you are a complete idiot. What are the chances Dustin will forget about the past thirty minutes? I stop mid-whisk when something even more mortifying dawns on me.

I got myself off listening to Colin and his wife having sex.

Even though the brothers are identical twins, I can usually tell them apart. There is just something beyond their looks. It’s like Dustin’s body and soul have a language all their own and for some reason, I speak it fluently. But last night, I was so caught up…

“Hi, Tina,” Stacy says, jolting me out of my strange thoughts. She was a few grades behind me in school, so we were more casual acquaintances than friends. Never in a million years would I have imagined having the knowledge of her I do now. “I hope we didn’t disturb you too much last night,” she adds, and I roll my lips over my teeth when I feel laughter bubble again. It’s like I can still hear the sounds they made. Correction, the sounds we made. Oh, God.

Without warning, a memory of me riding Connor ten years ago flashes, but just as quickly his face morphs into Dustin’s. My fingers go numb and the bowl I’m holding slips. Dustin is there in an instant, catching it in his quick hands before it and its contents can crash to the floor. He sets it aside and, with his hands on my shoulders, spins me to face him. “Jesus, you look paler than usual.”

Still in shock at how real the image of us was, I flinch at his touch. I don’t miss the hurt in his eyes when I do. He steps away, giving me the space I need. But I feel empty without him holding me. I try to laugh it all off, but it comes out sounding more like a sob.

Stacy comes to my rescue, gently directing me out of the kitchen. “Why don’t you take a break? I can finish this up in here.”

Grateful, I mumble a thank you and rush out of the room.

I’m pressing a cool washcloth to my face when there’s a knock on the bathroom door. I’ve had time to gather myself and feel foolish enough to not want to face Dustin.

“Open up, mouse.”

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

There’s a beat of silence, but I know it’s not in him to give up so easily. “Hmm. Maybe I should call your gramps?”

Bastard. “Don’t you…” I swing the door open, stopping mid-rant at the sight of the satisfied look on his face.

He crosses his arms and leans on the door jamb. “So, what was that all about?”

When I realize I’m wringing the cloth in my hands, I throw it in the hamper. “Nothing.” I try to squeeze past him, but he shifts to block my escape. I scowl. “Let me go.”

“Not possible,” he says, adding under his breath, “Believe me, I’ve tried.” Confused, I dare to meet his gaze. “You’re not leaving this room until you tell me what’s gotten into you.”

Of all the nerve. “Watch me.” I stomp on his foot and when he falls back a step, I run for my room, shocked to discover I’m smiling. What is wrong with me? I spin to shut my door, then gasp when he forces his way inside. He hobbles after me and I can’t help but laugh a little.

Eyes narrowed, he peers at me as he advances. “Oh, you think breaking my toe is funny?” Worried, I study his foot. He takes advantage, tackling me to the bed. “Made you look,” he says, breath fanning my face.

The weight of his body pressing along mine is shocking and so much better than any fantasy. I wiggle but he bears down with his hips. My legs give in way before I do, spreading in welcome, and my skirt hikes up my thighs. With a satisfied grunt, he settles more comfortably on top of me. There’s no mistaking the hard bulge pressing into my center. It’s like a heat-seeking missile finding its target. Instantly I’m soaked between my legs.

“If you won’t tell me, how about I take a guess, hmm?” No way am I telling him the truth. “Oh, no, you don’t,” he says when I turn my head away. With a firm grip, he forces my face back to his. “Aim those gorgeous green eyes right here. Now let’s see… when we came home last night you were already in bed, so whatever has you all jittery happened during the night, and since I heard my horny brother and his equally horny wife in the family room where I slept, I’d say you had yourself a naughty front-row seat. How am I doing so far?” He studies my face, laughing when I wince. “I’ll take that as a sign I’m spot on. Since you didn’t know they were coming”—he leans down, lips grazing my ear—“all night long, I’m gonna take a wild guess you thought it was me boinkin’ some rando.”

My face is on fire, matched only by the unbearable heat building between us.

“Were you jealous?”

I scoff.

“Hmm. Horny, then? Sort of like you are right now, huh, mouse?”

Indignant, I lie. “I am not.” I know the denial is a mistake when he gets this glint in his eyes.

“Let’s see, shall we?” He pauses with his finger at the edge of my panties. “Did you let Fuckface touch you last night?”

I’m so caught off guard by the question I don’t hesitate. “No.” Satisfied with my answer, he looks between our bodies to watch his slow progress. Too slow. “God dammit, if you don’t touch me right now, Dusty,” I say through my clenched jaw, “I might die.” I pause. “Wait. Your brother…”

“They went to the office to check it out. It’s just you and me.” He presses his mouth into my lips, speaking against them, teeth scraping with his words. “God damn, these fucking lips of yours.”

What’s wrong with my lips? I don’t have time to ask what he means because he’s prying them apart with the force of his tongue lashing out to duel with mine. Lust. Hunger. Familiarity. It’s like a switch has been flipped. Frantic, I begin yanking his shirt from his jeans while he’s stamping hot kisses onto my jaw and neck. He swats my hands away, reaching back to tug his shirt over his head himself when I’m not fast enough.

“Get your own off. Let me see you,” he says like he has something to prove. We’re a tangled mess of limbs and lips, both of us trying to rid each other of clothes like our lives depend on it. Only my bra, skirt, and panties remain when he sits back on his haunches to ease the cups of my bra aside. A satisfied smile lights his face. “I knew it,” he says and then takes one hard point into his hot mouth. I arch off the bed. The pleasure is too much and not enough and just when I think I might come he releases me with a pop. He works his way down my body, sliding my panties to the side from under my skirt. Cool air hits my heated flesh and I watch his smile grow as he stares at my most private parts—open and desperate for his attention. He’s inches from my folds, licking his lips in preparation, when my phone rings.

We both freeze.

“Don’t,” he barks.

“I have to.” I shake my head to clear it. “It could be Gramps.”

He rolls to his side with a curse, the tent in his pants looking painful. Grimacing, I scramble off the bed. My skirt falls back into place as I grab my phone. My heart jumps when I see Connor’s mom’s name. “Hello?”

“Oh, thank God I reached you,” Dee says. “Stan and I are at the hospital with your grandpa, dear. When they couldn’t reach you, they called us. He’s going to be okay, but he had a heart attack last night.”