“Yep, we’re freaks of nature. Identical twins, eighth wonders of the world. And no, we’re not into threesomes.” Might as well crush that dream. Sorry, not sorry, Cowboy.

  He blinks blankly before his eyes go razor-sharp. I’m pinned in place like a bug, but I’m not a butterfly, pretty but helpless. I’m a goddamn hornet, so I stare right back.

  “Me neither. I don’t share well.” He growls the heavy, weighted words, giving them deeper meaning.

  The air gets sucked out of the room like a black hole just opened up between us, around us, inside us.

  “You thought Emily was me. At the resort?” I need clarity like I need my next breath. Fuck that. I need clarity like I need dick. But I won’t be a stand-in for him to pretend that he’s fucking my sister. That’s one boundary I’ve never crossed, and I have zero intention of ever doing so.

  “Seems stupid now, but yeah.” He licks his lips, and I want to taste his tongue. Hell, I want to ride his tongue.

  I stand suddenly. “Leave.” I shouldn’t soften the order, but for some reason, I add, “Please.”

  He stands slowly, like he’s in no hurry to comply. He drains his beer, and I expect him to toss it to the bin the way I did, an answer to my own skill like he can’t let me have one over him. But he sets it down on my desk quietly. A win for me then, but it feels like such a loss.

  He stalks toward me, or maybe toward the door. I’m not sure, even though I’m watching his every move closely, looking for meaning and intention in every nuance. He backs me up, two small steps of give. A win for him too as my spine meets the bed of my truck.

  I should feel threatened. I should be grabbing for the closest weapon and attacking him. Hell, I should punch out and catch him in the balls to drop him to his knees like I’ve been trained to do.

  I do none of those things.

  To my shame and horror, my voice is quiet as a whisper. “What’s my name?”

  “Erica.” He groans the one name no one has ever called me and then covers my mouth with his.

  This is not a kiss. This is him shoving his tongue into my mouth to show me how he wants to fuck me.

  Me! Not Emily.

  Guilt rushes through me, but when he cups my face in his big hands, lifting me to my toes so he doesn’t have to bend down so much, all I feel is wild. A scrape along the floor tells me he’s grabbed my stepstool, and when he deposits me on it, I battle against the urge to wrap my legs around him. Instead, I use the new height to angle myself up to him, kissing him back as aggressively as he’s devouring me.

  I don’t submit to him. That’s not my way. It’s not his, either. Instead, we invade each other with our tongues but only succeed in setting fire to the thin shred of resistance either of us held.

  He tastes like beer and bad choices, and when he bites my lip gently, I return the nibble ferociously, leaving the wet heat of his mouth to bite the tanned skin of his neck. I pull at the collar of his T-shirt to expose the thick muscle where his neck joins his shoulder and bite there too.

  “Goddamn, Lil Bit.” His hissed curse might mean stop, but since he’s thrust his fingers into my hair, holding me to his neck, I’m pretty sure it didn’t. I suck it sweetly to soothe the sharp nip, but it only creates another type of ache. A deeper one.

  His hands mold over my body, learning every angle because there are very few curves to be had. But he doesn’t seem to mind at all. He’s not gentle, which I appreciate. Sometimes, guys see me as this tiny, fragile thing and touch me like I’ll break if they go too rough. Brody has no such hesitation, kneading my skin and muscles hard as he takes my mouth again.

  I’m about to fuck him right here against the bed of my truck. It won’t be the first time I’ve had sex in this garage. I lost my virginity in bay three in a Toyota Corolla. And it won’t be the last time either, most likely, but I realize one important fact.

  I can’t do this to Emily.

  Shit. Fuck. Damn.

  I’ve already betrayed my sister with this so-much-more than a kiss, but I won’t, can’t do this to her.

  It takes too much work to clear the fogginess in my mind enough to find words, so I push at Brody. He fights it at first, thinking it’s part of our battle to consume each other, so I push again. Hard this time.

  He steps back, confusion written in the frown lines around his mouth. “What?”

  His voice has gone so deep and dark that I can feel it in my core. I clench tightly, feeling empty and knowing damn well that he could fix that. With his fingers, his tongue, and that thick cock I felt against my belly.

  “Emily.” A reminder for myself and the only word I can find the clarity to say.

  “What about her?” He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling as I watch, feeling a sense of pride that I’ve pushed him to his limits.

  “She . . . likes you.” I’m well aware it sounds stupid and juvenile, but it’s the truth of what’s stopping me.

  “She can’t call dibs on me.” It makes me ridiculously pleased that he doesn’t take the childish phrase lightly. Sibling relationships are a delicate thing, and I’m known for being more bulldozer than dancer, but I’m trying here. God, I’m trying so hard. “And if we’re playing games of who saw whom first—I met you first, liked you first, wanted you first.”

  Oh, the dirty ideas his words make me think of.

  I can feel the heat on my cheeks, which pisses me off. I’m not fair-skinned, but something tells me Brody sees the blush all the same. His nose traces the line of my cheekbone to my ear. “Wanna hear it again?” He pauses, and I don’t dare move, desperately wanting to hear whatever he’s going to say. “I want you, Erica. Just you. Only you.”

  I shudder, not realizing until this moment how much that means to me.

  I love my sister to the very depths of my soul. I swear I do. And we’re not competitive in the least, mostly because I do my own thing and she does hers. We’re so different, but she’s . . . Emily. Homecoming queen, sweet and pretty, the one guys always go for.

  But this time, the guy wants . . . me. Rude, crude, bitchy, sarcastic, aggressive . . . me.

  And there’s a tiny little sliver that revels in that. But even though it’s small, it’s there. What to do with that is my choice, though, and I won’t be the sister who steals the other one’s guy. Even if Brody’s not really hers to begin with.

  I place a staying hand on his chest, feeling his racing pulse beneath my palm. He’s just as affected by this as I am, which heats my blood anew. “I need to talk to Emily first.”

  He kisses my cheek—and I mourn that it’s not my lips—before his forehead lands on the top of my head. “Can you call her now or something? I was hoping to be balls deep in you already.”

  He’s teasing, I think. It’s hard to tell, but I laugh anyway as I push him back. “I was planning on being full of cock myself. You can deliver that, right, Cowboy?”

  He groans and pushes his hips against me, proving that he can definitely deliver.

  “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

  His answering sigh is ragged. “Shit.”

  Yep, that about sums it up.

  “You should go. I’ll call you after I talk to her, one way or another.” I don’t think about what I’m going to do if Emily says she’s got some claim on Brody. Don’t think about that option at all. I’m a fighter, but not against my sister. I won’t let anything come between us, sisters before misters and all that rah-rah.

  He grabs a pen off my desk and carefully writes his number down on a piece of paper. Mr. Nguyen will just have to understand why there are extra notes on his invoice. “Call me, Erica.” The order both bristles and excites me, contrary sensations but there all the same.

  Brody looks me up and down once more, and I can feel that magnetic pull yanking us together, but he holds strong and moves toward the door instead of me. He gives in and glances back once, though, and I can see the hungry fire still burning in his eyes.

  I’m almost pissed that Bessie starts up easily this time, even though I knew she would because I did the work. But if she’d stalled out again, Brody would’ve come back in and we could’ve . . .

  No, it’s a good thing, I think as she roars into the night, taking Brody away from me. But I’m left feeling cold and horny.

  Shit.

  7

  ERICA

  Ican do this. I’m such a raging bitch of a sister, but I can do this at least. I knock on the door with my free hand and take a fortifying breath as I hear the footsteps on the other side.

  The door swings open and I see the surprise on Emily’s face a split second before she exclaims, “Rix? What are you doing here?”

  Back ramrod straight, I stare her down like she’s the firing squad tasked with my execution. “We need to talk. I brought wine and ice cream.” I hold up the brown paper bag as proof. And bribery. Not that I have to bribe her to talk to me, but maybe to not kill me.

  “Okaaay, everything okay?” She shakes her head. “Obviously not, because you’re here with wine, which I know you hate with the flames of a thousand suns. So get in here and break it to me.”

  She ushers me in, taking the bag of goodies. “Em, I⁠—”

  “Nope, not yet.” She gives me her back to grab two glasses from the cabinet and a wine opener. The pop of the cork on the pinot noir the lady at the liquor store recommended when I told her I hate wine sounds like a gunshot to my jumpy nerves.

  Emily takes a healthy swig from her glass and holds mine out to me. I take it but don’t drink. I don’t deserve for the alcohol to soften the sharp edges of what I’m about to confess. I need to be fully present and feel every bite of the guilt.

  “So . . . are Mom and Dad okay?”

  I blink. “What? Yeah, they’re fine. I mean, they were when I talked to Dad a few days ago. This is something else.”

  I don’t know where to start . . . when Cowboy brought Bessie in? When I introduced him to Emily? Last night when he kissed the shit outta me?

  “Did you re-enlist? I’m going to kill you before Uncle Sam gets his hands on you again, girl.” Emily growls the threat and I know she means it.

  I hate that of the two worst-case scenarios she defaults to, one is that something’s wrong with our parents and the other is that I’m leaving again. But I know why.

  We’d been so close, always telling each other everything back then. But I hadn’t told her I was even considering enlisting and certainly hadn’t told her I’d done it until it was almost time for me to go. And that had been the worst betrayal of our sisterhood, putting a wedge between us I still haven’t been able to fully repair. But I’m trying now like she’d tried to understand then.

  “What do you mean you’re going into the Army?” Emily laughs like I just told her a hilarious joke. When I don’t laugh along, she sobers. “Wait, are you serious?”

  I nod, grabbing her hands in mine as I stare into eyes I know so well, begging her to understand. “Look around, Em. We’re on the verge of freedom, and you get to go to school and have all these adventures. You’ll probably go to frat parties, meet some popped collar trust-fund bro, and he’ll whisk you to his family’s summer house in the Hamptons. Or you’ll fall for a leather-clad bad boy who spouts poetry and draws Sharpie tattoos on your back after you have dirty sex in a bed he hasn’t changed the sheets in for way too long.”

  Her nose scrunches up. “That’s gross, Rix.”

  “But the point is . . . you don’t know. And that’s awesome and amazing, and freeing, and . . .”

  “Terrifying? I think that’s the word you’re looking for because I feel like you’ve got it all together while I’m floundering with zero clue what the hell I’m doing. And now you’re just going to shit on it? On Dad? On Reed? By running away to join the Army?” She’s mad, which I get, but I’d hoped she’d support me.

  I try to find a way to explain that I had this moment where I’d looked around and could feel the rest of my life closing in on me. Dad’s been talking about me going full-time at the shop, which I want, and making jokes about father-daughter dances at the wedding, which I don’t. I think Reed is only waiting for graduation to be done with before he proposes. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past him to propose at graduation.

  And I don’t want that life.

  I want to be young and reckless. I want to drive fast cars and do dangerous shit. I want to decide for myself who I’m going to marry and when.

  Everyone else is in a rush to get me settled down, especially Dad. I know why, and my enlisting is going to push every one of his panic buttons. That’s why I need Emily on my side, a united front.

  I need him to see that I’m strong, independent, and fierce enough to do whatever it takes to get my way. Even if it means . . . leaving.

  “It’s not forever. Just for a few years . . .”

  It damn near killed everyone but me when I left the first time, and every visit home after that ended with them begging me to stay even though they knew I couldn’t. The only person happier than Mom and Dad when I got out was Emily.

  And now I’m shitting on our sisterhood again.

  “No, not that either.” I shake my head, stalling as long as I can. But her eyes narrow as she runs out of guesses. “It’s about Brody.”

  “Oh . . . Cowboy Brody . . .” She sighs out breathily as her hand lays over her heart.

  Shit. Fuck. Damn.

  I’m the worst sister ever. But I’m ready to take my lumps so I jump in.

  “Last night, when we were leaving Two Roses, his truck wouldn’t start. I had to jump it off there, and then he followed me back to the garage so I could drop a new battery in. I guess sitting in the lot for a few days was too much for the old battery.” I’m adding unnecessary details, but ripping the Band-Aid off slowly seems kinder somehow. Not to Emily, but to myself.

  “Anyway, after I did the battery, we got to talking and one thing led to another . . .” I trail off, and Emily’s eyes go so wide I can see the whites all the way around.

  “Oh, my God! You slut! You slept with him!”

  The words and sentiment are exactly what I expected, and shame fizzles in my bloodstream. What I didn’t expect was the look on Emily’s face. She looks . . . excited? But that can’t be right.

  “No, no. I didn’t sleep with him, but he kissed me. Well, we kissed. I think it was a kiss. It seemed more like mouth fucking. Is that a thing? Because if it is, that’s what we did. He fucked my mouth.”

  I’m rambling with nerves. Know what I never do? Ramble.

  That kiss-slash-mouth fuck must’ve scrambled my brains. It’s the only logical explanation.

  I bury my face in my hands, another thing I don’t do. I’m not a hider. I’m a face hard shit head-on girl. Even when I left, it was because I was facing down a future I didn’t want and choosing something else. I hadn’t hidden then, and I’m not hiding now. I mumble into my hands despite my arguments to the contrary about my nature. “I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. Truly, I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing?” I peek through my fingers to see confusion knitting her brows together, and I’m betting she looks a whole lot like me right now, confused as hell.

  I lift my head, steeling my back as I lower my shoulders, ready to be brave. Or at least fake it. “Because you like him, and I swear I’m not a shitty sister who goes around poaching, especially not from you.” I inject every bit of earnest truth I can into the proclamation, only to have her laugh in my face.

  “Rix. Honey. I don’t care,” she says sweetly, her laugh almost tinkling.

  Of course, she’s being sweet. That’s who Emily is.

  “Of course you care. I’m sorry. I won’t see him again.” Why does that sting a little? I barely know Brody, just met him, honestly, but there’s a little puff of smoky sadness like a matchstick getting blown out inside me at the thought of never mouth-fucking him again.

  Emily shrugs casually, as if my betrayal of the oath of sisterhood is no big deal. But I know good and well that it is. “Rix, I don’t care. He didn’t seem that into me at Two Roses anyway, and now I know why. That man likes ’em dirty, just like you.” She makes ‘dirty’ sound like a compliment, right before she slaps her forehead. “Which reminds me that he was trying to figure out how I got my hands clean . . . because he thought I was you!”

  She seems delighted at that and laughs like a twin switcheroo is the funniest thing ever. I think Brody would beg to differ. I would too.

  “We’re good. Go get you some of that cowboy.” She shoves at my shoulder with a smile. “Just make sure you tell me all the dirty details, each and every inch of them.” Her wink is silly and reminds me of those easier days when we were thick as thieves.

  “You mean it? I swear, say the word and I’ll never talk to him.” I sound like I’ve already made up my mind, but Emily knows me well enough to see right through my front.

  Emily freezes, her mouth hanging open before she sets her glass down on the coffee table so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. The glass, not the table, because it’s wood. And these glasses must be industrial strength. I’m rambling again, but only in my head now.

  “I should beat the ever-loving shit out of you.” This is what I expected, but I don’t let my hands ball up. Not against her. I’ll take the blows, knowing that I deserve them. She throws a sissy shot at my shoulder, more of a tap than a punch, but it’s probably all she’s got. “You like him! But you set me up with him. What the hell?”

  “You said he was The One, and I wasn’t going to get in the way of that.” I’m still apologizing.

  She rolls her eyes. “I say that every week, sometimes twice on Sunday if Mr. Saturday Night had particularly good oral skills.” She’s kidding, I think. She might fall in love all the time, but she’s pickier than I am about who she fucks, usually only opening her legs after dating someone for a long while. “But you? You never chase down dick, and the one time you feel like it, you pawn him off on me because I’m mouthing around again?”