Page 25 of Twins for the Enemy

I’d puzzle over whether this room cuts into the third floor, but as Kieran tugs on the climbing rope, the muscles in his back flex. My breath catches in my throat. I remember my fingertips pressing against thatback, feeling the muscles move underneath my touch. I’ve imagined having sex with him in the last two months and how his back muscles would slide under my palms, but my imagination didn’t do it justice. I may as well have been a virgin again, only imagining what sex feels like. Here, it’s real—terrifyingly and admirably so.

I flinch as he abruptly jumps down from the wall, the rope sending out a high-pitched squeal at the abrupt shift. I quickly back up before pivoting and hurrying down the hall.

By the time I jump back into my bed, I’m sweating. More heat radiates off of me than I thought possible.

The stress of this situation is making my mind concoct insane scenarios. I’m not one of those women who dream of the bad boy or desire a man simply because he showed no interest in her. I’d always wanted a sensible man—one that wouldn’t be cruel and not suffocate me too much with his needs and wants. I never fantasized about anything other than subdued comfort. Safety.

But I can’t help but wonder if it’d be just as good the second time with Kieran. Would I risk comfort and safety for that? Would it be equally sacred and reckless the second time?

In the last couple of months, while I’d craved his touch, I’d considered sleeping with other men. I’d wanted to reenact our night together. But every time a man had shown interest in me, all I could think was that it wasn’t Kieran. It could never be as good. Another man couldn’t be as compassionate or as empathetic as Kieran had been.

It turns out that this current Kieran can’t be either. And still, I find myself wanting him.

It’s a fool’s dream. Some part of me must believe I’ll find that man in him again, buried underneath hard muscles and a careless attitude.

Heavy footsteps approach the door. I close my eyes and relax my body, hoping I resemble some level of a woman who is asleep.

The footsteps enter the room.

My heart is beating so fast it almost hurts. I’d like to say it was fear, but it feels a lot more like anticipation.

Something large and heavy drapes over me. It takes me a moment to realize it’s a blanket. After another second, I hear a faint beeping noise. I slowly open my eyes.

The thermostat screen is lit up as Kieran taps on it. Oh. It’s a touchscreen.

The heating system rumbles to life.

I close my eyes again as he starts to turn around. I try to not hold my breath, but I still end up gasping after several seconds.

I open my eyes. He’s gone.

I let out a slow breath, sinking deeper under the sheets. The blanket he’d pulled over me has the faint scent of pine, and the weight of it makes a cocoon of warmth. I shouldn’t have this ache in my chest that’s enamored by this small act of kindness.

I try to not think of anything. I don’t think about the small act of kindness. I don’t think about how warmhis body would be underneath these blankets with me. I don’t imagine him telling me that he noticed me spying on him with his hot breath curling around my ear. I don’t imagine his legs brushing up against mine. I don’t imagine how I’d shiver and he’d mistake it for me being cold, so he’d pull me close. He’d be as gentle with me as he was when we first met.

I don’t imagine his kiss, the faint taste of sweat on his lips. I don’t imagine us twisting together or him pulling me underneath his weight.

I don’t imagine my hands on his back, feeling those muscles flex like wings. I don’t imagine his mouth on my throat and on my breasts. I don’t imagine his hand moving where my hand is moving now, rubbing until my thighs collapse open for him.

I don’t imagine him thrusting into me, abandoning all gentleness because we’re both so desperate, it’d be foolish to pretend. I don’t imagine the bed turning into a sauna of heat and sweat as he drives into me with reckless thrusts and me clinging to him, somewherebetween being afraid of getting thrown off a bull and encouraging that danger closer and closer.

I remove my hand from between my thighs and roll over onto my side. It doesn’t help. If dissatisfaction came like a chill, not even Death Valley could make me warm. It’s these ridiculous pregnancy hormones. Once I have these twins, I’ll be disgusted with myself for even thinking about Kieran.

Not that I’m thinking about him. I swear.

Chapter eight

~KIERAN~

I rock climb to calm the thoughts that are constantly firing in my brain. Doing it inside isn’t as relaxing as climbing outside, but with my schedule, it’s easier to fit in.

But no matter how many times I climb, no matter how often I clear my mind, I’m fucking haunted.

Farah moves through my thoughts like a ghost through the walls. She’s set up residence in my brain, turning all the electricity toward her. No matter how hard I try to shake her, and no matter how hard I tighten my fist around the thoughts without her, she slips through and eclipses everything else.

I have never encountered a problem I couldn’t bend and twist into a solution or, even more commonly, a weapon.

But this one is fortified by two months of seething rage.

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