Release Date: September 5, 2018
Cover Design: Angsty G
Being an identical twin doesn’t come without issues.
No one can tell us apart, not even our parents sometimes. We don’t usually use that to our advantage, but it comes in handy when my brother needs help breaking up with his boyfriends—which happens more than I’d care to admit. I know it’s enabling him, but I can’t say no to Anders. I will do anything for my twin. The breakups always go the same; they’re swift and simple.
He’s everything I’ve fantasised about but never allowed myself to have. When I give in to temptation and begin to freak out, it’s not because he’s a guy. It’s because he thinks I’m my brother, and I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth.
I’m going to come clean. That’s the plan as I enter Reed’s building and head up to the second floor. I’ll lay it all out there and tell him everything:
I was the one he hooked up with.
It’s me he’s been texting.
I’m not straight. I’m bi.
I want no strings attached sex with him while I figure this whole thing out.
I am not my brother and never have been …
But then he’s going to ask why, and the only response I’ll have is because of reasons I can’t say. Fuck. This isn’t going to work. He’ll want to know why I was the one who turned up for their date and not Anders. I won’t betray my brother like that.
Oh, so pretending to be him is okay, but telling someone Anders was almost killed is crossing a line?
“Shit,” I hiss under my breath and lean against Reed’s doorjamb.
Damn, hardwood floors and long corridors make noise travel. Before I know it, and before I have time to retreat, Reed’s door flies open.
There he stands, wearing a lime-green polo shirt and jeans, looking hot enough to fuck, and my mouth decides it’s not time to cooperate.
Reed steps forward and yanks me into his apartment, closing the door with a slam. Fisting my shirt, he pulls me against him. For a small window, I think he knows it’s me and not Anders. It’s as if all the things I need to say are understood without me having to open my mouth. Wishful thinking, obviously, because when he closes his mouth over mine, I’m no longer able to tell him anything. And when he murmurs, “Thank fuck, you changed your mind,” I know my delusion isn’t real. He still thinks I’m Anders, and I’m going to let him continue to think it.
I’ve never understood people who cheat on a partner until now. While this isn’t cheating, it is wrong, and I thought my conscience would be yelling at me to stop. Never have I been able to turn off that side of my brain, but as Reed’s tongue pushes into my mouth, there’s nothing but him and me and the promise of everything I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember.
With women, I’ve always been the dominant one—the one in control—but right now, I’m ready to throw every ounce of restraint out the window. Reed can take it all.
“I want you to fuck me,” he says against my lips.
The command has my balls tightening. “O-okay.” I sound unsure—too unsure.
Reed pulls back. “You down for that? I mean, I could go either way if you prefer … I’m an equal opportunist.” He winks.
I grab his hips and bring him against me, determined not to let this opportunity pass me by because of nerves. “I want to fuck you, but you have to do something for me.”
“What’s that?” Reed smirks.
“I need you to tell me exactly what you like.”
He leans in, his smile never wavering, and whispers, “Everything.”
“Get specific. Tell me what you want me to do. And use your teacher voice.”
“You have a teacher fantasy?” Reed’s eyes glimmer.
“If I do?” I don’t really, but this could be a fun way to learn a few tricks. And if Reed finds it weird that Anders has a teacher fetish when his twin brother is one, he doesn’t say anything. Thankfully.
“You better get to work by undressing me.” Reed’s voice is exactly what I want. Rough, confident, and so damn hot.
I reach for the hem of his shirt, but before I can lift it off him, he stops me.
I grin. I could so get into this game.
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About the Author
Eden Finley is an Amazon bestselling author who writes steamy contemporary romances that are full of snark and light-hearted fluff.
She doesn’t take anything too seriously and lives to create an escape from real life for her readers. The ideas always begin with a wackadoodle premise, and she does her best to turn them into romances with heart.
With a short attention span that rivals her five-year-old son’s, she writes multiple different pairings: MM, MMF, and MF.
She’s also an Australian girl and apologises for her Australianisms that sometimes don’t make sense to anyone else.
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