CHAPTER THREE

– HAYDEN –

“You doing okay?” Heath questions as he takes a seat beside me on his couch.

Turning my head to face him, I ignore his question and fire off one of my own. “Mom and Dad go home?”

My twin grimaces. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure he’s not going to let Ma out of his sight, or the house, for the upcoming few weeks.”

I snort. “Weeks? Try months. Aunt Lynn is probably staying the night to make sure her bestie is okay.”

“He might have mentioned he was sitting on the back porch drinking a beer with Uncle Deeds.” Heath grins. “They couldn’t keep Aunt Lynn at the hospital unless they tied her down, so they agreed to take her to Blue’s under the condition that Leontine would stay the night to look after her. Fucking head injury and still fighting tooth and nail to make sure the ones she loves are safe and looked after.”

“Family by blood or not, they’re there for one another. Same loyalty runs in our veins too.” I release a sigh and let my head fall back into the soft cushion. “I hate this couch.”

“Too soft, eh? Then go sit on that hard and uncomfortable as fuck couch of yours in your own damn house.”

My gaze drifts in the direction of the kitchen.

“You’re not gonna talk my old lady into coming with you just so Dee will follow,” Heath warns.

I grit my teeth. It’s definitely fucked-up to have my twin remind me how the relationship between Bran and him is solid, while Deanna and I are…electrifying. And I mean getting shocked at every turn with a jolt of lightning, firing off words at rapid speed, while other times it’s the electric current heating up every damn inch of our bodies.

Closing my eyes to ease the dull headache in my skull, I grit, “I don’t want my old lady to follow. Today proved how strong and vital she is when she’s at my side, that’s where she belongs.”

“Nice words won’t get you laid.” Deanna’s voice carries a hint of a snap.

I open one eye and notice the two plates in her hands. “I’ll settle for food ’cause something smells fantastic.”

“Cheesy broccoli, chicken, and rice casserole,” Deanna states and holds out a plate for me to take.

Bran walks around her twin, hands Heath a plate filled with the same yellow and green goodness, and states, “It’s Deanna’s specialty, right up there with her cupcakes. Wait till she makes those. But this broccoli, chicken thing? It’s basic yet so freaking good.”

I take the fork in hand and scoop some of it up and have a taste.

Groaning, I have to agree, “It’s damn freaking good.”

It’s a bit frustrating to eat with my left hand to make sure my right arm gets some rest. Deanna eyes the couch. Next to me is a spot where she can sit. Bran is snuggled up against Heath and my lips twitch when I notice Deanna’s nose wrinkle when she looks at them. Her gaze shifts to the chairs that came with the uncomfortable couch and she releases a tiny sigh.

When I can tell she’s made the decision to sit on the fucking floor, I get up and state, “Come on, let’s give those two teeth achingly sweet lovebirds some space and sit on a normal fucking couch.”

I carry my plate over to the door that connects our living rooms and open it without looking if she’s following me.

“I want my plates back when you’re done,” Heath rumbles.

Relief hits me when I hear the door close and only then do I turn to see Deanna standing in my living room, taking in the space I decorated myself.

“Nice,” she mutters and struts to the couch where she kicks off her shoes and then seriously stands on the fucking thing before sitting down.

“Comfortable?” I ask with a smile in my voice as I take a seat next to her.

I leave enough space between us, knowing not to push my fucking luck. Reaching for the remote, I turn on the TV and pick a random series to fill the silence. I place my feet on the table in front of the couch, and put my plate on my lap to finish my food with my left hand.

“Do you have something to drink?” Deanna questions.

Pointing my fork in the direction of the kitchen I state, “Fridge is stocked. Can you bring me a beer, please?”

Without a word she leaves, a moment later I hear some whispers and then her voice raises. “Holy fuck, this is weird.”

I get to my feet and rush into the kitchen where I find her with her ass out and her head in the fridge.

“What’s weird?” I question.

She stays in the same position, making my cock hard and filling my head with a vision of taking her just like that.

“You have all my favorite stuff. Like, brands on point and everything. This kitchen might be the same as Heath’s, but the contents are wayyyy different.”

“I know.” I place my plate on the counter. “His tastes suck and the idiot has his glasses on the other side while I have them–”

“In the cabinet near the fridge where they should be,” Deanna states when she pulls her head out of the fridge.

I grin. “Right.”

Uncapping the bottle of beer with a keychain that’s on the counter, she takes a large gulp and loudly states, “Aaahhhh. I needed that.” Holding up the bottle to silently toast into the air, she adds, “Heineken, my favorite.”

The corner of my mouth twitches. “I keep a private stash at the clubhouse in a fridge in the office. When my dad was president they had Heineken as well, but the younger generation switched it to Budweiser. Every now and then I find my dad, Dams, Pokey…any brother of the older generation for that matter, sneaking out of the office with a bottle of Heineken in their hand.”

Deanna places her bottle on the counter and reaches inside the fridge to fetch me one, uncapping it before handing it to me. “Why not serve both?”

“We voted on it, second-generation outnumbered the older generation.” I shrug and wince at the twitch of pain shooting down my arm.

“You need to rest,” she states and points her bottle in the direction of my wound. “And change the dressing.”

Glancing down, I notice she’s right. “Very fucking annoying,” I grumble. “I know I need rest, my head is fucking pounding, yet all I want to do is torture that Tar Lines fucker to get some answers. It doesn’t make sense Mia was there before they were.”

“Unless she was the one who took your mother on her own to get her old man back. She didn’t even mention me, remember? Well, except for telling you ‘put the bitch down wherever,’ while she wanted you to put Kent in her car.” Deanna leans against the counter and swings her bottle my way. “Should you even be drinking?”

I finish off my beer and place the empty bottle on the counter. “Between recovering from the concussion, and the wound on my arm?” I shrug. “I’ve had worse. Sometimes it’s better for my mental state to have a beer instead of painkillers, which I didn’t take, by the way.”

Deanna nods. “You know your body best. If you want to torture that fucker instead of getting some rest, I’d be happy to drive you, and do the torturing.”

A massive grin slides across my face. “You’re the most perfect wifey there is, offering to do the torturing for me. I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman, besides from my ma and aunt Lynn, who’d say the same.”

She finishes off her beer and casually states, “I might have an identical twin, but my personality is one-of-a-kind. You’re lucky–”

“To call you mine?” I state, quickly cutting her off because I know damn sure that’s not how her sentence would end. “Believe me when I say I am very aware of this little fact. When my brother claimed Bran I followed with my claim automatically. It’s a gut instinct to always follow my brother. Though, claiming you felt right. I’ve never met a woman who pulls on my emotions like yanking on nerve endings, plays fiddle with them, and fires up lust all at the same time. Insane. You, you drive me fucking insane and it might feel like I’m losing myself while on the other hand it’s intriguing, exhilarating, and did I mention makes me horny as fuck?”

Our gaze stays locked when she says, “I was going to say ‘you’re lucky I’m gracing you with my presence.’ And yes, you mentioned lust and horny. The bulge in your pants is hard to miss.”

I’m about to make a remark when she places her empty bottle on the counter and holds up her hand. “Do not say ‘oh, it’s hard alright,’ because that would be a turnoff. Instead, you can tell me why you picked the Reverse Prince Albert. Wait, is it because Heath has a Prince Albert so you went for a reverse? Oh, that reminds me.” She steps forward and holds out her hand.

Anger rises at the mentioning of my cock being pierced like my brother’s. It’s the same shit every damn chick pulls whenever they’ve had sex with one of us.

“What? Bran bragged about my twin’s cock and now you’re suddenly interested in mine?” I snarl.

Her eyes narrow. “What the fuck, asshole? Don’t reflect your own blatant behavior on me. My sister and I don’t exchange sex stories. Why? Because it’s fucking private. I only asked since you were the one who told me you had a Reverse Prince Albert piercing. The reverse thing is something my twin and I do with the ink when she gets a new tattoo. That’s why my mind jumped to the reason you might have a mirrored version of your twin.”

Grabbing the two empty plates she stomps past me. Shit. She’s right, I did tell her. Why the fuck do I always lash out first and think later? Especially when it comes to her? I’m still fuming on the inside about my own stupidity when Deanna wanders back into the kitchen.

She places the two plates into the sink when I tell her, “I’m sorry for being an asshole. You were right, I did tell you.” A sigh rips from me, and I rub a hand over my face. “My mouth got the better of me when my mind automatically jumped to the fact that all bitches always want to compare dicks when it comes to Heath and me.”

Deanna leans back against the counter, crosses her arms in front of her chest, and huffs, “Tell me about it.” Wincing she adds, “No, please don’t. I mean, I understand. It’s the twin fantasy thing, and why my sister and I always split up if we want to hook up with someone.”

Shifting, I move to lean against the counter next to her and muse, “Seems your sister and my twin won’t have that issue anymore, which means we’re cut free from anyone who might have that fantasy now that those two are solid.”

Deanna wrinkles her nose. “Don’t remind me. I just received an eyeful of nakedness I want to bleach away if I could.”

Laughter rips from me. “That’s why you returned to the kitchen so quickly?”

She playfully smacks my chest with the back of her hand. “Shut up. I could have lived without seeing my sister riding your twin’s cock. There’s no way I’m ever going to sit on that couch. It didn’t look comfortable the first time I saw it, but now? Yeah, no fucking way.”

I laugh harder this time and she laughs right along with me. Reaching into the pocket of my jeans, I find the two barbells and offer them to her in the palm of my hand.

“Here you go, make your tits sparkle again. I totally dig the blue rhinestones.” Staring at the jewelry, I mumble out the rest of my thoughts, “Blue is my favorite color, and they definitely match the spark in your eyes.”

I swallow hard at the emotions filling my body. It’s not just a craving to have sex. Hell, I could go out right now and pick up some random pussy to shove my cock in and yet that doesn’t appeal to me. At. All.

Heath mentioned something similar before we met Bran and Deanna. The urge to randomly fuck had faded for him prior to meeting his old lady. Now I’m the one confronted by this feeling and I completely understand what he was talking about. Back then I thought abstaining would lead to a bigger craving. I was wrong.

It’s the element for more. A different meaning, a uniqueness that lacks the urge to simply get off. Damn, I’m so fucking screwed, and not in the sense of that word.

“You can take my bedroom; it has a larger bathroom. I never brought any woman into my home, so you don’t have to worry about my sheets or anything. My guestroom is available too, but I told Bee to leave the bag with shit she brought you in my room. I’ll take the couch.”

I connect my gaze with Deanna’s and watch how she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. Swallowing hard at the wave of lust running free in my veins, I croak, “No fucking has taken place on my couch.”

Why the hell did I feel the need to say that?

She frees her bottom lip and chuckles. “Kinda obvious when you mentioned not bringing any women into your home. Well, except for Bee, she’s been in your bedroom.”

A horrified look slides across my face. “Don’t say it like that. Fuck. Archer’s ears are ringing, I’m sure. I won’t put it past that cousin of mine to put cameras in my fucking home. Damn. That’s my cousin-in-law you’re talking about.” I shiver. “Fuck, no.”

Laughter rips from her and she playfully smacks my arm. Right where I was shot. Fuck. The barbells drop to the floor when I groan and grab my arm. “Fuck.”

“Oh my…fuck. Shit. I’m sorry,” she rambles and grabs my arm as well. “Are you okay? Dammit, I’m an idiot.”

“I’m fine,” I grit and slowly release a breath to focus on the pain and when it will fucking fade. “I dropped your piercings, you should pick them up and rinse them, disinfect, whatever before you put them back in.”

“Do you have a first aid kit?” she questions.

“Bathroom,” I tell her and close my tired eyes as I lean my head back.

Maybe I do need to rest and lay down. Dammit, I’m suddenly so tired. Thank fuck Deanna left to handle her piercings. I should move to the couch, but right now I’m feeling too damn sorry for myself to get my body to move.

The sound of something hitting the counter next to me makes my eyes flash open. “I thought you were going to put your piercings back in and stay in my–”

“Oh, shut it and stop thinking,” Deanna mutters and rustles through the first aid kit, placing some gloves, antiseptic, and bandages next to it.

She eyes the wound, then my face and states, “Move to the couch. I can tell you’re tired so no need to deny it. Besides, it’s better if you’re sitting on your ass so you don’t pass out when I’m changing your bandage.”

I snort and push off the counter. “I don’t pass the fuck out, wifey. Not from anything.”

Walking in the direction of the couch I hear her say from behind me, “I think I could knock you out cold if we were sparring.”

Plunking my tired ass onto the couch, I shoot her a grin. “We should definitely spar as soon as possible. Tomorrow, maybe, after we’ve tortured that fucker together.”

She snaps the gloves on and takes the scissors in hand to cut away the old bandage when she says, “Yeah, right. Not happening, hubs. You’re still recovering from a concussion. No fun in putting you into a hospital or worse. I want to gloat for a long time when your head hits the mat, witnessed by all your brothers. Yeah, that’s a nice visual.”

I hiss when she cleans the wound, a little too fucking hard if you ask me.

I throw the words back at her, “Not happening, wifey. When the time comes, you won’t want to have an audience.”

She snorts and bandages up the wound. “You know I’ve been active in underground fighting. I’m not scared to receive anything you throw at me.”

I grit my teeth, so I don’t blurt out, “Not even my cock?”

Chuckling she states, “You wanna make a remark about your dick, don’t you?”

“It’s your own fault for bringing up the visual of us fighting. Sweaty bodies, getting down and dirty on a mat. Fuck, that gets me so hard. I have no fucking clue why because fighting a woman is something I’ve never done, and when it involves you? Yeah, damn.” I reach down and adjust myself.

My gaze collides with hers when her hand covers mine, both of us hold my cock in place when she says, “This won’t be hard when I’m kicking your ass.”

The corner of my lips twitch. “I wouldn’t be so sure, darlin’. Everything about you gets me harder than I’ve ever been. Especially when you throw around your sass or when we go head-to-head…every time it blows my mind to experience how my body reacts to you.”

Her hand disappears from my crotch and I instantly regret sharing my feelings when she gets up, picks up the trash and first aid kit, and disappears into the kitchen.