Second Chance Twins Read online

  “You’re good!” I laughed breathlessly.

  “You expected something else? Here, let me get my dad dance on for you.” He pulled away and started doing an insanely embarrassing rendition of the running man. Shaking my head, I turned to walk away.

  “Hey, wait!” He laughed. “I’ll stop; I promise. Hold on…I feel a robot coming on!” Sliding into the jerky movements, he followed me back to our table where I downed the last of my drink.

  “Oh, no!” He gasped in dismay, snatching the glass from me. “You’re dry!”

  Without waiting for a response, he scurried over to the bar, returning a moment later with four drinks. I raised a suspicious brow at him.

  “Trying to get me wasted, scoundrel?”

  “Scoundrel? I haven’t been called that since…actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been called that,” he said thoughtfully. “And no, I’m not trying to get you wasted. I’m confident in the intoxicating qualities of my game.”

  “You got game?” I teased.

  He ruffled his hair, then lowered his head to give me a smoldering look. Popping his collar, he slid forward like a Latin dancer and wrapped an arm around my waist, jerking me flat against him.

  “Has anyone ever told you,” he said in a dramatically husky growl. “That you have the most beautiful eyes?”

  It was cheesy. So very cheesy. It shouldn’t have done anything to me but make me laugh. Whether it was the alcohol or the dancing or the fact that I might not be working with him for much longer, the cheesiness worked. A ball of heat, intense as the sun, plummeted from my chest to the spot between my hips, making my breath catch in my throat.

  Impulse caught me at a weak moment, and I put my hands on his face, pulling his head down to kiss me.

  He didn’t even hesitate. The instant my lips touched his, he was taking my mouth possessively, molding it to his whims. He stole my breath and my sanity in a single moment, and there, in front of a room full of half-drunk dancers, I began to grind my hips against the hard rod straining against his pants.

  Dizziness nearly overwhelmed me and I pulled away, sucking air into my oxygen-deprived lungs.

  “Damn,” he said, his eyebrows disappearing into his floppy blond hair. “I didn’t know that would work! I have wasted so much time being smooth…”

  I laughed at him and drank deeply from one of the glasses.

  “I blame the gin,” I told him. “That never would have worked on me sober.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” he teased. “You know you’ve been dying for me to rip your apron off and steal you away from work on the back of my valiant steed.”

  “You call that hideous hatchback a valiant steed?”

  He stuck his tongue out at me and I bit my lip.

  A song I couldn't help but dance to came on in between beats of the music, and I dragged Miles back onto the dance floor.

  Conversation was silently held as we moved together, my hips conferring with his, my hands asking soft questions of his firm biceps. He answered in little circular hip thrusts, just barely decent for public observation, and traveling hands which flirted with the fringes of modesty.

  His blue eyes had darkened like eternal pools in his movie-star face, his lips ruddy with drink and desire. I brushed them now and again with my own, feeling him pulse against me each time. My heart raced with more than exertion as we followed one song into the next, long into the night. We danced until my ribs ached and my legs shook, until Miles led me back to our table to collapse on the plush velvet couches beside it.

  I took my drink in both hands, gulping it down as if it would quench my thirst. It only made it worse. Anticipating me, Miles hurried to the bar for water, but I wasn’t thinking clearly and had drained my glass before he returned.

  “Drink this before you puke,” he said, his mouth twisting in wry amusement as he handed me a bottle of water. “Thought a bartender would know better!”

  “I’m not a bartender tonight.” I grinned.

  “What are you?”

  I paused for a moment, then turned his own cheesiness back on him. Batting my eyes heavily, I turned on my own sultry, breathy voice.

  “I’m just a girl…standing in front of a boy…”

  “You’re sitting,” he pointed out.

  “Thank you, kind sir.”

  “That’s not the end of the quote!”

  “Well, I can’t finish it now; the moment’s ruined!”

  He shook his head, his blue eyes twinkling. “That’s a shame. But frankly, I’d rather hear what you had to say, sans movie quotes.”

  “About what?” I asked innocently.

  “About me.”

  “Who says I have anything to say about you?” I teased.

  He smirked, popping his collar and flipping his hair over his forehead again. Looking like a conglomeration of every bad-boy movie heartthrob from the last four decades all squished into one, he gave me the smolder.

  “Oh my God, stop that,” I laughed, but the pulse of heat between my thighs belied my objection. The gin swimming in my blood loosened my tongue, making me forget why I had been hesitant to say something in the first place. “I’ve had a crush on you since the day you started working at Finnegan’s,” I confessed.

  The music hit a loud, bass-heavy section just as I spoke, and Miles shook his head and put a hand to his ear.

  “I have a thing for you,” I said again, a little louder.

  “What?”

  I sighed heavily, then inhaled deeply.

  As loud as I could, I shouted, “I have a crush on you!”

  At that same moment, the music fell silent. The crowd around us cheered my confession, and I buried my face in my hands. The music started again a heartbeat later, and I silently cursed the DJ.

  Oh, God, Miles must be dying of laughter. I slid a peek at him between my fingers, and he beamed at me. Leaning close, he spoke loudly in my ear.

  “I do too! I’m pretty awesome.”

  I rolled my eyes and he laughed. Scooting closer to me, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and put his lips against my ear.

  “I’m kidding,” he told me. “I have a crush on you, too. A major one. The kind that makes me stop coding a little earlier just to spend a little extra time getting ready to go to work to see you.”

  “Really?” I let my hands fall into my lap and turned to him, his gorgeous face blurring with the bright, colorful lights of the club in my hazy vision.

  He didn’t answer with words. Twisting my body around to press against his, he tipped my chin up with his fingers and took my mouth once more.

  I melted in his arms, tasting the gin in his warm mouth, burrowing my fingers in his thick hair. His hands were on my waist, my thigh, running up my back, brushing over my breasts, cradling the back of my neck.

  My pulse quickened, fluttering deep and heavily in my core, and I turned to drape my thighs over his.

  Straddling the rectangular couch, I pushed my body against him, raking my fingers through his hair as he took a detailed tour of my curves. He jerked away from me a moment later, looking up into the bored and annoyed face of the massive, bald bouncer.

  “Get decent, get a booth, or get out,” the bouncer drawled as if he’d said it a hundred times already that night.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly, scooting away from Miles and tucking my legs underneath me.

  “Yeah, man, no worries,” Miles said smoothly, shaking the bouncer’s hand. “We’ll tone it down.”

  The bouncer nodded and lumbered away, leaving me shaking as my mortified heart thundered in my ears. Miles waited until the man was out of earshot, then raised a single, perfect eyebrow as he looked at me.

  “You want to get out of here?”

  “God, yes.”

  We took a cab back to his place, getting increasingly frisky in the back seat while the cab driver turned the radio up a little more with every block. Miles threw the fare plus a generous tip at him and led me inside, unwilling to release me for even a second as
he unlocked the door and we tumbled inside.

  “Nice place,” I told him without even looking around.

  “Thanks—let me give you the tour.”

  His passionate kiss pushed me backwards until my knees hit the soft edge of a sofa, then followed me down as I found a horizontal plane to lay on. He pressed my thighs open to settle his hips between them, propping his elbows on either side of my head as he pushed my mouth open with his. I tilted my hips up to meet his enticing gyrations, the waves of my body synchronizing with his.

  “So, this is the couch,” he said breathlessly as he pulled away to move his mouth to my neck.

  “It’s a good couch,” I moaned. “I like the color; I really think it ties the room together.”

  “I do love a woman with a good eye for design,” he murmured against my collar bone.

  I chuckled, a sound which quickly dissolved into a moan as he pulled my scooped collar down to reveal the soft, milky tops of my breasts.

  He kissed along them without missing an inch, caressing them with his hands as his mouth worked. I pressed hard against the bulge in his jeans, aching to feel its velvety smoothness inside of me. A minute later, we stripped each other of our shirts.

  He had a good chest. The sort of chest I didn’t usually see on men our age; broad and muscular, dusted with just the right amount of hair. I raked my nails over it lightly, reveling in every sensation.

  He pulled back, gazing down at my black-lace-clad breasts, groaning low in his throat as his fingers traced their contours. Brushing the pads of his thumbs over my erect nipples, he sent lightning bolts of pleasure shooting across my body, starting a fire deep in my core.

  “You look even better than I imagined,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “You imagined me like this?” I asked, the realization turning me on even more.

  “Maybe,” he hedged, licking his lips. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

  Reaching behind me, he unclasped my bra with a flick of his wrist, letting my breasts spill out against his chest. Sliding down my body, he took one aching breast into his mouth and fondled the other in his nimble hand.

  Pleasure coursed over me, crisscrossing my body until it hit my deepest need in hot, pulsing waves. My hips rocked of their own accord, finding a rhythm which quickened my breath and ignited my blood.

  A groan escaped his throat and he pulled my jeans off, leaving me naked except for my black panties. He stripped out of his own pants just as quickly, but didn’t return to his place on top of me. Instead, he pulled me off the couch and held me close.

  “I believe I was giving you the tour,” he said, his voice thick with lust.

  “Yes,” I gasped. “What comes after the couch?”

  “You do,” he murmured, giving me the earnest version of that erotic smolder.

  I moaned, melting into his embrace as he walked me backwards down a hallway. Plush carpet tickled my toes and the house grew dark around us, but those were the only outside details I took in. My focus was entirely on Miles, nearly naked against me, his sensual masculinity permeating my every sense. My calves hit a bed, and he lifted me up by my hips to toss me back on the mattress.

  “I didn’t know you were so strong,” I murmured against his mouth as he fell to meet me on the bed.

  “I didn’t know you were so soft,” he replied, running gentle hands over my curves.

  Gentle hands quickly became demanding, almost rough in their desperation. Hot lips ran down my neck, over my breasts, pausing to suckle for a mind-bending moment before moving over my belly. A new kind of intoxication swirled through my body as he moved over me, down to my hips, breathing hot air against the thin cotton covering my wanton need.

  He peeled my panties away slowly, kissing each new inch of exposed skin until he held my most sensitive spot between his lips. Swirling his tongue over it, he slipped his fingers inside me, pressing pleasure into me from both inside and out. Heat rocketed through my body and I arched against him, swept away by the sensations of his skilled and unfamiliar touch.

  His desire pulsed through his lips to ignite me to my core. Waves of ecstasy rippled through me, intensity building with reckless abandon, quickly reaching a fever pitch between my hips. Release shook me like an earthquake, and I screamed his name into the dark. He was on me in moments, crushing my mouth with his, and I tasted my own pleasure on his tongue.

  Sliding inside of me with the same intoxicating skill, he quickly moved us into a perfect rhythm. I arched to meet his thrusts, desperate for more—though I was full to capacity—craving every molecule of his being.

  My hands in his hair, my teeth scraping his lips, my hips against his, I gave myself over to primal rapture. There was no room for tenderness in this dance, not now; he took me like a beast, slamming into my deepest recesses, jolting electricity through my spine with every thrust.

  His growls mingled with my screams as he tossed my ankles over his shoulders and dove even deeper, forcing me to give, pushing me to my limits. My fingers curled into fists around bunches of bed sheets as fireworks exploded in my brain. His masculine scent filled my senses even as he filled my body. He was everywhere, everything, and I was lost to him.

  Miles flipped me onto my belly without warning, then slid me to the edge of the bed. He entered me from behind, framing my rear with appreciative hands as he thrusted, grinding my pleasure button against the silky duvet. Sliding his hands up my body to my breasts, he lay over me, kissing my neck, biting my shoulder, caressing my breasts.

  “You feel so damn good,” he groaned in my ear.

  It was the feather that tipped the scale. Pleasure raked violently through me, each muscle tensing and releasing in a pulsing wave from the top of my head to the tips of my curling toes, locking him inside of me with powerful waves. His groan was nearly a scream as he railed me harder, faster, without a hint of the control he had previously shown.

  His pulses pushed back against mine, sending me into another cascading orgasm, his shouts of release mingling with mine in an intoxicating cacophony of raw sexuality. Breathless kisses trickled over my shoulders and down my spine as the waves subsided. A final jolt of pleasure hit the base of my spine, making my head spin and my eyes go heavy.

  Shakily, I crawled up onto the bed with Miles close behind. As the first gray light of dawn tinted the black sky, I fell fast asleep in his arms.

  Chapter 3

  Miles

  The Pitch

  There was nothing better than waking up next to a beautiful woman who smelled like sex and strawberries. Nothing, that is, except the chance to make a cool million in the space of an hour.

  I took a moment to appreciate the picture she made on my bed as I dressed for my meeting. Her thick, strawberry-blond hair across my navy blue pillows, her perfect tan, those full lips pushed out in an innocent sleepy pout. She was gorgeous.

  “Yep, Miles, looks like the gods are finally smiling down on you,” I told myself as I straightened my tie in the mirror.

  I blew her a kiss and hurried out. Luck wasn’t patient, and neither was Nate. He had already texted me twice, and the meeting wasn’t supposed to begin for another thirty minutes. Regardless, I told him I was on my way and hurried to the address the investor had given me.

  Nate was already in the parking lot when I pulled up, flipping his keys around his finger, his eyebrows lowered behind his reflective sunglasses.

  “Frowning already? Cheer up, man; we’re invincible today.”

  I bounced across the parking lot, trying and failing to rein in my wildly elevated mood. I couldn’t seem to keep the grin off my face, and even though I’d been awake way longer than I should have been, I had never felt more energized and alert.

  “What got into you?” Nate asked, then slid his glasses down his nose to peer at me with his piercing dark eyes. “Or, should I say, who did you get into?”

  “Yes,” I answered cryptically. “Doesn’t matter who. She’s perfect, this day is perfect, and this meeting is going to go pe
rfectly. It’s a perfect storm of perfection, Nate. Get on board!”

  “I don’t know if hyper-active Labrador is really the impression we’re going for,” Nate said, raising a brow as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Better off being cool. Aloof. Real Silicone Valley material, catch my drift?”

  “Dude, all those guys geek out just as hard over their stuff. Trust me, I got this.”

  Nate shrugged, but let it go.

  Still, I could feel his eyes on me as we made our way through reception and up the elevator to the office on the top floor. The higher we went, the more lavish the floor on the other side of the glass doors appeared. By the time we reached the top, the walls were practically gilded.

  Nate didn’t seem to notice, but he wouldn’t. He came from old money. This was standard for him—like a department store break room for those of us who have had to work in one. Or shop in one, for that matter.

  I managed not to gawk. My confidence was leaps and bounds ahead of my self-consciousness, and I made a mental note to express my gratitude to Shelley later. I now understood why soldiers used to make a point of getting laid before going into battle; something about it just made a guy feel like a god. This morning, I would be unstoppable.

  We were ushered into the boardroom, where the investor I had already talked to stood with two other suits.

  “Nate! Miles! Good to see you boys again. These are my partners, Natalie Eisenhower and Frederick Jones.”

  Hands were shaken all around.

  “Thank you again for meeting with us, Mr. Dalio,” Nate said, putting on an air of humility I didn’t know he was capable of.

  “Call me George. Would you like anything before we begin? Coffee? Water? If not, the floor is yours.”

  I expected to be quaking with nerves, but I found that I was just excited. Nate and I set up our presentation as the investors grabbed their coffees and arranged themselves at the far side of the table. Each had a notepad in front of them and a look of casual interest on their faces. I locked eyes with Nate as we put the final touches on our setup.

  “You ready for this?” I asked him.