by Morgan Black
His lips curl up at the edges, making him look incredibly charming, it makes my heart flutter. Still, the twinkle flashing in his eyes make my senses flare up like a nine alarm fire. He’s up to something and I’m all ready to bolt before the words are muttered from his sensual mouth.
I’d like to do things with that mouth other than listening to it, though.
“Thomas is my twin brother. Identical in every way.”
“Ah,” I say, but it’s more of an acknowledgment. “Weird but I don’t remember him.” I still have no clue who this Thomas is.
“I want you to fuck him.”
I don’t react. In fact I’m frozen in shock. What the hell is he doing? My sort of grin melts away. Finally, I clear my throat.
“Excuse me?”
He chuckles. “I know I sound abrupt, but I want to be pretty straightforward on this deal. I’ll pay you. You fuck my brother. Make him feel like a gazillion dollars. Spoil him.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. I run my hand through my curls and let my head hang back. Now he’s really working one on me.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not a prostitute. You can find a few down the road.” With that I sit up and lean forward, lifting an eyebrow, challenging him to rebut. I like challenges, this is one in the making, and I can feel the conflict brewing, just the way I like it.
“I know where to find them. But they’re not you. I want you to take care of him, Hannah. I want you to be the one he falls for again. I want you to be the one who rocks his world, like you did before.”
“What are you talking about? Not catching your drift here. I don’t even remember him.” I huff. This was getting old fast and I’m already irritated. I get up and head toward the kitchen. Parched, there has to be something to drink here. Flashing a quick peek into the fridge, I pull out a bud light. It’s already afternoon and there isn’t a bottle of water in sight, so I might as well get my fun going. Work was always pretty much a blur all night anyway. Why not start already?
There’s always some sort of alcohol in this place. Always. I make sure of it.
“Nice place you got here.”
He’s on his feet and leaning against the bar area separating the living room from the kitchen eat-in area. I pop the cap off the bottle and take a swig before I slam the fridge door.
“It’s alright.”
“How would you like to live somewhere much nicer?”
I almost choke on the beer as I stifle a laugh. “This might sound crazy, but last time I checked, Cinderella was a fairy tale and full of shit. That crap doesn’t happen to people like me.”
He tilts his head. I swear those eyes are going to shoot laser beams at me or something. They’re conniving and I don’t know if I like the way he looks at me. Like he’s peeling off each bit of clothes, slowly, and kissing every patch of skin he exposes.
I shiver. Contemplating where the heck I’ll go, the kitchen table, or brush past him to the living room again, I suddenly feel trapped.
“You know. Sometimes fairytales do come true.”
“Not for me. Not if you’re suggesting I become an expensive escort for your brother. Besides,” I gulp down another cool swallow of the beer, letting it revitalize my worn out ass. Already my hands are shaking and I hate feeling the shakes coming on. “If you and your brother are that rich, why do you need to pay someone to be with him? He can have his pick of women.”
Grant returns to his spot on the couch and I swallow another mouthful of beer. Two can play this game. I place my bottle on the table, emptied, and head towards him.
“You don’t remember him at all do you?”
I shake my head, but he makes me doubt myself. I wrangle my brain for a memory, but it’s just a void I don’t care to remember. It was so long ago…I let it go and approach him. Standing above him he watches me carefully. Is that longing I see embedded in those dark, visceral eyes? I don’t even think when I step forward, landing one knee next to his thigh and hoist myself to sit on his lap
“No.” I let my hair drape over my cheeks matching his gaze. “Why not just fuck me yourself? Why come here for your brother when I can see you want something out of this, too?”
Grant’s eyes narrow and the tiny spark of want fades out of his eyes. Before he moves, he runs his hands down my sides to grip onto my hips. Then he lifts me up, slides me over and drops me onto the couch next to him.
What the hell?
“He remembers you fondly. As do I.”
“Oh, you do?” I jump to my feet and head for a chair by the kitchen table. I grab the empty bottle and make a scene of draining the last few droplets onto my tongue before I motion toward the chair across from me. Enough of this, I’m done with the runaround. “Refresh my memory.”
Grant slides into the chair opposite me. I hop out of my chair again to pull another bottle out of the fridge. I return and plop my ass back down before twisting the top off the drink. He observes the sweating drink before me. I don’t usually feel self-conscious about my drinking. I couldn’t give a shit about what others think about me. I gave up on that glorification long time ago because it isn’t worth my time and definitely not worth the pain it can shear across my soul. It doesn’t bother me to be judged anymore.
But Grant’s scrutiny pokes at that belief without even trying. I swallow. My mouth’s already dry and parched again. Damn it. Why do I even care what this stranger from long ago is thinking about me? I have no reason to care. I down another generous mouthful and wait for him to continue.
“Thomas is my twin. I’m surprised you don’t remember him. He looks exactly like me.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Maybe that’s why I only see you in my memory.”
Those kissable lips slowly morph into a smile, and he looks down at his fingers, now folded on the table. Did I just make him blush?
“Quite possibly, you meshed your memories of us into one person.”
“Could be.” I finish off the bottle in just a few swallows and toss it behind me into the recycle bin. It’s almost full of empty beer and vodka bottles. It has me wondering if I need to make a liquor store run soon.
“You see. He told me things about you two together. Kissing and…other things. He said that with you, it was the most amazing kiss he’d ever had. The way you felt, so sweet, so ripe, he never felt such a thing with any other woman. If you hadn’t moved away, he wonders if you might’ve been something more.” He cocks his head to the side. “I wonder that myself.”
I clear my throat for what he’s said is a surprise to me. “You mean that wasn’t you I kissed?” The realization that the brothers probably traded spots more often than I would’ve even known suddenly chokes me up, like being taken advantage of and not knowing it until much, much later. “You guys… you were playing me back then weren’t you? Switching on me…”
He smiles, but it’s tight and his knuckles are gripping each other so tightly, they’re white as sheets. “Truly innocent intentions. We were just children back then.” He waves a hand in the air. “Thomas did have a way with you. It was him who spent the majority of the time with you. Though…we had our moments. You never noticed which one of us you were talking to, though, did you?”
I shrug. A faint memory of the brothers together passes through my mind, but it’s faint and I realize he’s probably right, what if I meshed them together as one person. I wonder why I don’t remember much about them.
“No. I guess not. You guys were probably too similar.” I pick at my fingernails. I need a manicure, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. “So I kissed him and he liked it. What’s that got to do with you being here now? Did I kiss you too or something? How’d you find me anyway?”
Grant leans forward, looking me straight in the eyes. His dark brown ones are intense, sharp and penetrate without effort. I’ve never seen any look so deep they appear black in the dim kitchen light.
“Wasn’t too hard to find you. You did leave a trail of breadcrumbs.”
I giv
e a loud, haughty laugh. “I guess I’d suck in the witness protection program.”
He chuckles at this. “I’m kidding. I talked to your mother, who lives two cities away from where you used to live with a traceable landline.”
I cringe and jump up from my chair. “Yeah well, I didn’t think she cared about my whereabouts anymore, honestly. I haven’t spoken to her in years.” I shuffle back to the fridge to swipe another beer, but Grant is at the door already, one hand pressed on the exterior.
“I don’t think you need any more of those.”
If there’s one thing that makes me furious in a millisecond, it’s being told what I can and can’t do. I glare at him with daggers shooting from my eyes.
“I do what I want. Now, I want you to leave.”
He looks me in the eyes for what feels like minutes but I’m sure it’s only a few seconds.
“Very well. But consider what I asked you.” He holds out a card. “I’ll be in touch. I need you to be ready this Thursday at 7pm for a date with Thomas.” He holds it out until I finally reach up and pluck it from his fingers. “Be ready.”
With that he turns and makes his way from the kitchen to the front door, still in my direct line of sight.
“I look forward to hearing back from you, Hannah.” He pauses, looking straight at me with a face full of things he wants to say, but I cut him off with a wave from my position next to the fridge. His lips tighten and with that, he reaches for the door and heads out, snapping the door shut behind him.
I yank the fridge door open and stare at the bottles lined up on the shelf. Instead of grabbing one, I slam it shut.
“Shit!” Pacing the floor, I finally rush toward the living room window where I shove the mini-blinds to the side and catch a glimpse of his shiny, brand new, white Mercedes turning out of the apartment complex parking lot and swinging into the road.
I stare at the pavement where he’s just been and wonder about Grant…about Thomas. Was it him I kissed on the lips so sensually, so deeply in my young preteen self, caught up in our hormones where we didn’t quite know what to do with ourselves? No, it wasn’t Grant I kissed. It’d been Thomas. If only I could remember more, but I’m not sure of anything anymore. It’s all one huge blur I can’t turn into focus right. Who forgets their first kiss? Their first love? Especially two brothers who both seemed to like me back then. Strange…
Thomas. He didn’t exist just minutes ago. Now, I have a date with him. With this knowledge to digest, I wonder what Thursday is going to bring, for if I know anything about the Grant who showed up at my door today, it’s that he won’t take no for an answer and I’ll be having to date his brother.
I’m screwed and know it.
Chapter Three
The night’s sultry air sticks to my skin and I pull my shawl around my bare shoulders. The evening drizzle came unexpectedly leaving the air humid and several degrees cooler. I’m wearing a sequined black dress, short and sexy with spaghetti straps. It gives my assets a definitive push, swelling my breasts pleasantly and showing off my long, toned legs. It’s just a bit chilly so the sheer shawl I drape over myself helps to keep some heat. I want to impress, but wearing sweaters and jeans isn’t good for it. I need to show skin and be ready for a romp under the sheets with Thomas. That thought alone makes me shiver. Sure, I love a good fuck, but I’m far from slutty.
I hope the twins didn’t pull a fast one on me again and switch places. I shudder to think I can possibly be kissing Thomas when it’s Grant instead. Still, either one would be eye candy to look at from what I’d seen. I just wish there was a way to know who I’m really talking to. Maybe, by now, they’d be different enough for me to tell them apart.
I walk back into my apartment, shutting the balcony doors and go to sit in the living room to wait for Thomas. It’s five minutes to seven. I hope he isn’t going to be late.
As if reading my mind, the doorbell rings. I jump with a start and hop off the couch. Standing by the door, I breathe in a moment to calm my racing heart. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s killing me to let this happen. I’m always composed, never letting anything get to me. This isn’t me, so why am I acting like a damn fool? I dance naked in front of mere strangers, but someone from my past shows up and I’m a tongue tied fool!
Swinging the door open, I paste on the widest smile I can manage without cramping my cheek muscles as he comes into view. What I find makes my smile melt away from my face within a second, even though I didn’t mean to lose control of my facial features.
Shit.
Thomas looks exactly like Grant, except for a large scar going down his forehead, across his eyelid and continuing down his cheek. It’s an old scar, something I truly don’t remember him having since, it seems, I pretty much confused Thomas and his brother back then. His left eye was cloudy with a milky cataract that gleams white in the dim light of the hallway. He isn’t smiling, but his calm appearance makes me feel foolish for being so jumpy. What happened to this man since I knew him in high school? He’s more than a stranger to me now.
“Um…hello, uh… Thomas, right?”
He nods, a tiny smirk appearing in the corners of his mouth. “Hello, Hannah. It’s been a very long time.”
“Wow, yeah. I—I was pretty shocked to hear from your brother.” We stand there awkwardly as the clock ticks by and I slowly bounce the door back and forth. Clearing my throat, I motion to him.
“Shoot, how rude of me. Come on in.” He doesn’t look half as nervous as I feel and I wonder what’s going on in that head of his.
“Thank you.” He walks in and waits, looking around my dimly lit living room. “Nice pad.”
“Thanks. It’s paradise.” I lean against the door with the silliest forced smile across my face. I’ve held it like that so long, my cheeks ache.
“I see.” He’s standing so straight, so stiff, I wonder what’s going on beneath his hardened exterior. He’s studying the décor, but I can’t decipher what he thinks about it from the slack expression on his face. Where Grant is animated and flirty, Thomas appears cold and silent, where the other is cool and confident, he’s reserved and hardened. It heightens my interest and the butterflies fly right back into my belly.
“Um…would you like a drink? I have some liquor…or beer. Whatever floats your boat.” Damn. My mouth stumbles over the words as my tongue tangles them on up.
I’m already in the kitchen peering into the near empty fridge. The light from it illuminates the small space like a flood lamp, blinding me. I blink and glance up. Jumping, I inhale sharply and grip the door handle of the fridge for dear life. Thomas stands next to the door looking right at me. I never heard him approaching.
“I—I have soda too…” My voice cracks and I cover it up with a good clearing of my throat. Geez. If his one milky eye isn’t startling enough, the nearly black, intact one is just as fierce.
“I’ll take a soda. I don’t drink.”
“You got to be shitting me.” I lift an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. Who doesn’t drink in their twenties?
“No joke.”
His eyes scan down to my breasts, making me feel exposed since I’ve dropped my shawl on the couch. There’s nothing between us now, except the fridge door, and I feel a rush as my blood heats my face. His face is open to me now, just like that. I’m stunned to find his cold aloof shield is gone along with the rocklike wall he’d placed up the moment he walked in. It feels like a barrier collapsing before me and he’s allowing me to see the soul inside those hungry eyes.
“Uh…wow. I never met anyone who doesn’t drink.”
“Never doubt what I say.”
His voice stuns me and makes it hard to remember what I’m doing. I feel the cold of the soda can in one hand and a beer in the other reminding me to kick the fridge door closed. It slams in a startling rattle, but it’s enough to jolt me back into action and I head for the table where Grant sat just a few days earlier, placing the soda on it. I yank the chain for light above me bef
ore settling in at the table with the overhead lamp still swinging above us. It gives the illusion that more is going on in the tiny room and I take the brief moment to twist a bottle open and then down several mouthfuls of alcohol.
Thomas watches all this with a calm demeanor, like a teacher about to test his students on something he’s just said, or mentioned, and is evaluating who’s been listening. I’d fail this test. Something told me I’m not paying close enough attention to things.
“Grant tells me you drink often.”
“Stop right there. Don’t start on me now.”
He reaches forward, snapping the tab on his soda before bringing it to his lips and gulping back some of it. He makes me fidget with my fingers clasped in my lap, wondering if this date is just a big fucking mistake.
“I have no quarrel with your habits.”
I lift an eyebrow. Now, isn’t this a surprise? “What else did Grant tell you?”
“He just told me the basics. How you’re doing, what you looked like.” He’s picking lint off his shirt, looking meticulously at it before flicking it away. “I don’t need to be told everything. I’ll know it all in due time.” Taking another luxurious sip from his soda can, he settles it back on the table gently and focuses those dark eyes with equally dark and thick eyelashes on me.
“You’re confidant.” I take another swig and smack my lips. Somehow, this colder, harder, scarred version of Grant is a complete turn off. Well, not totally, just unfriendly. I hope it isn’t a complete let down of an evening. “So, since you don’t need to know too much up front, does that mean I can’t ask you my own questions?”
He stops picking lint off his clothes and leans back in his chair, bringing one leg over to cross onto his thigh. I get a glance at a plain black sock under his pants and a thin strip of skin with some dark curly hair on his leg. His slacks are pressed to a fault, wrinkle free with sharp creases. His slick style and attention to detail make me feel trashy. Maybe I shouldn’t feel this way, but hey, I’m a stripper and pole dancer at night in one of the hottest night clubs in town. Who was I to tell anyone that Grant and Thomas didn’t have class? They did. They really fucking did without missing a beat. I’m jealous of how smooth they are and were around people.