Page 23 of The Final Deal

My heart pounds hard in my chest like I’m in the front row at a heavy metal concert, right in front of the speakers, and the music is blaring at full blast and setting the fast pace that makes it hard to catch my breath. It worsens the longer Adrian stares at me, completely ignoring Zak passing by with the meat and jar of blood.

I busy myself with tossing bell peppers and onions in a pan so I have something to take my mind off Adrian’s stare lingering on me. Shit, I have to say something or else I’ll appear guiltier. “I made sweet tea if you want some, hon.”

He pushes away. Ice clatters loudly into a plastic cup. The fridge opens and closes, and liquid pours behind me. It sounds like he grabs the salsa and basket of chips, but then he pauses beside me and grabs a pair of tongs. “Zak probably needs these to grill, huh?”

Goddamn it, I wish he wasn’t so close. “Ha, yeah. Probably.”

“Wonder why he forget ’em.”

“Too distracted by his kryptonite,” I joke.

Adrian leans over and presses his lips against my cheek, lingering a moment too long for it to be a quick peck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck—he knows. Like he can probably smell Zak on me, or hear my heart violently rattling inside my chest, or feel the heat in my cheeks from an I-just-got-caught blush.

Zak passes by the window, stations himself at the grill, and glimpses up at me with apprehension, like he realized the samething I did: with a clear view from the grill into the kitchen window, Adrian caught us red-handed.

Once the door shuts behind Adrian, I take the biggest gasp I can. My lungs fill with air that forces my heart to thump harder as it tries to keep up with my racing blood and thoughts.

Eventually, my body calms and leaves panic mode. I peek outside the large window above the sink that overlooks the yard and find Zak at the grill, drinking blood from the jar, and Adrian sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs in the water and his father’s huge Bill Miller cup of sweet tea in hand, back to the house.

Zak grimaces at the jar and shakes his head like he tasted something nasty.

I should probably heat up some tortillas, but a quick dip in the pool sounds way better.

Carrying a glass of sweet tea and a couple of beach towels, I waltz outside with a smile plastered to my face and head straight for Zak.

He beams at me brightly. “Hey.”

I hand him the sweet tea and kiss his cheek. He smells a little like copper. “Thought you could use a better drink.”

The repetitive clearing of his throat clues me in that Adrian’s eyes are on us. “Thanks, babe.”

I set the towels on the patio table and peel my shirt off, tossing it over a chair. Along with it comes off my bra and shorts and underwear, all resting over the chair, before I saunter over to the pool.

Chapter 9

Man Eater

–Rivals

Zak’s eyesare wide and lips parted in a small gape. Adrian doesn’t notice anything until I reach the first step inside the water; he double takes so quickly I think his neck cracks, and his eyes widen like his brother’s.

I bite down hard on my bottom lip to tamp down the smirk forming as I descend into lukewarm water. I dip all the way down beneath the surface and rise with my head tilted back so my hair stays in place away from my face.

Adrian watches me as he sips his tea, his eyes smoldering above a stern expression. “You better have put on sunscreen, princesa,” he warns. “Don’t want that pale ass getting burned.”

I shake my butt at him under the water. “You can make it red some other way.”

I can’t hear him from this distance, but I can make out the shape of Zak’s lips as he mutters, “Fuck me,” at the grill. One hand holds tongs on one side, but the other moves to his crotch to adjust himself.

The grin finally wins as I swim over to the edge and lean up on my elbows beside Adrian. My bare breasts spill over my arms, allowing the twins full view of what’s theirs.

“We still meeting up with Bottomdweller next weekend?” I ask casually.

Neither of them answer. Zak’s so focused on the grill and keeping his hard-on down to a chub, and Adrian isn’t paying attention to anything but my chest.

“Huh?” I prompt.

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