His First Choice

The look she was giving him could have made him feel odd. Except that it seemed warm somehow. Maybe he needed to slow down on the wine.

“They say you don’t truly know someone until you’ve seen them at their worst. I want to really know you.” Now, that had come out as he’d meant it to.

“So...you show me your worst and I’ll show you mine.”

He grinned. “I don’t think I can find it right now.”

“Me, either.”

Leaning forward, he reached for her and pulled her toward him. She stood, and so did he. They were just standing there, looking at each other.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.

She shook her head. “You’ve seen...”

With a finger to her lips, he silenced her.

“But

it’s true, Jem,” she said softly, her gaze seeming to implore him to understand. “Life’s hard enough to deal with without hiding from the truth. One of the things you learn as an identical twin is that you are not original.”

“But you are individual, Lacey. I know Kacey. I’ve seen her. Spent a lot of time with her. And she’s beautiful. Sweet. Kind. But I look at you, I see into your eyes, and there’s...more. Your eyes show me the essence of you, the person. Not just the body with features identical to your sister’s. You could dress like Kacey and she could dress like you and I’d know you instantly.”

He had no doubt of that. He just wasn’t sure how to convince her. And sensed it was vital that he do it.

With both hands, he pushed the hair back from her shoulders, let his fingers trail down her arms to her waist. Beneath the loose tunic. To the smooth skin he’d yet to see.

Lacey’s hands were on his hips, almost on top of his belt. And when he moved forward, she tilted his way, into him, touching his lips as he touched hers. Pressing into him. They were melting. Her. Him.

He’d imagined starting off slowly—testing her waters, moving cautiously through the waves of desire. Tasting her lips and pulling back. Instead, her mouth opened—or his did—and their tongues were meeting as if they’d known each other their entire lives.

His penis almost exploded. Hands shaking, he held on to her, thinking that he’d sit, pull her onto his lap. Ease a small bit of his excruciating pain.

Or masochistically make it worse.

And his doorbell rang. The sound came to him faintly at first. Almost something he could ignore. Until his brain computed what it had been. His lips left Lacey’s.

“That was my doorbell.”

“You expecting someone?” Her smile definitely belonged in his bedroom.

“No.”

The dread in his gut told him who it could be.

If he left Tressa standing outside, with his truck in the drive, where he’d left it so she’d know he was home and relax and leave him alone, she’d keep ringing. Or worse, come around back. She couldn’t get through the privacy fence. But she could find a knothole to look through...

“Probably just a neighbor, maybe with some misdelivered mail,” he said inanely, feeling like a two-timing jerk in a bad comedy. “I’ll be right back.”

The absolute last thing he wanted to do right then was leave Lacey standing out there alone.

The second last thing was to face Tressa.

So maybe it wasn’t her.

He hoped to God it wasn’t her.

He’d warned her about showing up at his place.