Brody’s reluctance to let me leave pours off him, but he’s not in any position to make me stay and he knows it. Heaving a sigh, he scratches his fingers through his longish brown locks. His arm drops down to slap against his thigh. “Fine, whatever. If you say it’s cool, then cool. Just call me when you get there. Or use Morse code, smoke signals, whatever in case he decides to hold you prisoner or something.” His smile is crooked, one dimple making an appearance.

Throwing my arms around his narrow waist, I give him a quick squeeze and step back, keeping the contact short and sweet. Rebel may not like it, but he’ll have to deal. I’m making compromises for the both of us.

“Thank you,” I say softly. I can feel Brody’s eyes on me as I walk away, feel the sadness in them. I think I might be a terrible person.

I toss an apologetic look over my shoulder as I meet back up with Rebel, hoping Brody isn’t too upset with me. Rebel has a way of getting under a person’s skin, and not always in a good way. As if to drive home his dominance, Rebel replaces his hand at the base of my neck and steers me toward the stairs. Brody looks to be a cross between bewildered and two seconds from going nuclear.

Thankfully, the car is already waiting for us at the curb when we leave the building, just as Rebel promised. Gerardo stands at the rear, holding the door open for us. I climb in first, sliding over to allow Rebel room to get in. When he does, he’s wearing what I call his business face. It’s a perfectly blank mask, impenetrable. I have no clue what is going through his head, but I’m sure whatever it is, none of it is good.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I narrow my eyes at him. “You need to work on your manners.”

“What, I was supposed to be nice to that boy back there?” He scoffs, clearly thinking himself above the act of basic human decency.

“Brody is my friend. He deserves a little damn respect.”

“Brody is a horny little shit with his eyes on the wrong woman. What he deserves is my fist in his face.”

“Jesus, Rebel! What is wrong with you?” I can’t believe he’s being so vicious. After last night and this morning, I was beginning to think he’d turned over a new leaf. How foolish am I?

Rebel’s expression morphs into a mask of outrage. “What’s wrong with me? Let’s start with his assumption that I might hurt you. He’s lucky I didn’t hurt him, starting with his face!”

“Can you blame him? Look at how you’re acting. You’re being a crazy person, and why? Because he’s a man?”

“I told you to make sure no other men touch you,” Rebel snarls.

“Newsflash, Rebel,” I say smartly. “That’s an unrealistic expectation. There are going to be other men in my life and sometimes, they might touch me. Are you going to beat them all up?”

“If I have to.”

My eyes widen. “What if it was your dad? Would you hit him for touching me?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “That’s ridiculous.”

“And so are you. You know what your problem is, Rebel? You’re jealous. You’re so worried that another man is going to swoop in and take me out from under you that you’re missing the real issue.”

His dark eyes swoop up to meet mine, and I see the level of his anger. It’s deep and I get the immediate sense that it stems from something beyond me. I probably shouldn’t push, but I venture forward anyway.

“Do you know what happens to a bird if you hold on too tight?” I ask. “You crush its wings.”

“Bird analogies, really?” Rebel’s lip curls with annoyance.

“I happen to like birds,” I snap. “My point is if you spend all your time holding on so tight because you’re worried I’ll fly away, then you’ll never know what will happen if you let go.” He refuses to look at me, so leaving my seat, I close the gap between us and crawl onto his lap.

His entire body stiffens and his jaw flexes as he stares up at me, determined to be angry. I wouldn’t expect anything less. With a tender touch, I brush my fingers through his midnight hair. “I’ll tell you what would happen, Rebel. I’d come back.”

“You say that now,” he says, his voice a low rumble of doubt.

Shaking my head, I lower my forehead to his, close my eyes, and breathe him in. “Did I ever tell you what happened that night at your apartment?”

“Which part? When you accused me of fucking around with my boss?” His temperature rises, radiating through his clothes like a heat wave. “Or when you snuck into my brother’s room and fucked him to get even?”

I cringe. That’s not how it went, and this is not how I meant for that question to go. I decide not to address either of his questions for fear of getting any further off track, and press on. “After Ransom and I… Afterward, I left because I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t where I was supposed to be.”

Silence descends on us and I lift my head, biting my lip. I’m unsure of what Rebel’s reaction will be, but I know if ever there was a time, this is the time to say it. “I already told you I chose you, but that’s not all of it. I realized that night, despite everything, or maybe because of everything, that it was you. I chose you, Rebel, because there’s no other man for me. There never was.”

EIGHTEEN

“Do you hate your brother?” I’m sitting cross-legged in the center of Rebel’s bed, tracking his movements around the room as he gathers what he’ll need for the trip and packs it all into a piece of luggage that’s double the size of mine.

And they say women are the ones with a clothing problem.

“Yes and no,” Rebel replies distractedly. “We have our problems just like any other siblings.”

“But aren’t you supposed to be super close? I thought twins were supposed to be inseparable.”

“Only if they’re conjoined,” he remarks. Dropping a stack of perfectly pressed shirts into the luggage, he stops to look at me. “Ransom and I used to be close as kids, but it’s never been...symbiotic. That shit you see about other twins being able to read each other’s thoughts and living mirrored lives? We’re about as far from that as you can get. We have the same face, similar personalities, even the same taste in women,” he adds with a dark smile, “but we’re about as different as two people can get.”

Reminded of my time spent with the two of them, I can see where he might think that. Rebel is much more intense than Ransom. However, Ransom can be just as dominate and controlling as Rebel, just as I’m learning Rebel can be as sweet and gentle as Ransom. They’re more alike than either of them realize.

“If you don’t like each other very much, then why offer for him to live here?”

“I told you, he needed a place to crash, and I had the space.” Rebel is getting annoyed, which is evident by the way he moves a little faster around the room, stuffing his belongings into his bag with a little less care.

“Because you don’t stay here often,” I surmise.

“That and because he maintains it while I’m gone. Maids can be expensive. Family labor comes free.”

I nod in understanding, even though I’ve never once known the luxury of having a maid myself. A question that’s burned in my mind for ages rises to the forefront of my mind and, before I lose my nerve, I ask it. “If you have this place, why bother with the hotels?”

“I told you, I travel a lot for business.” He waves his hand at the open suitcase as evidence, but it’s not what I meant.

“No, I mean, why the hotel rooms. Why meet me there when you had this waiting for you?”

Zipping the case closed, he plants his hands on his hips, highlighting the breadth of his wide shoulders. He changed into a simple pair of khakis and hunter green polo when we first arrived. It reminds me a lot of Ransom, but the look is just as sexy on him. I can’t help feasting on him with my eyes. The man is a hot commodity no matter what he wears.