Dante was in the bedroom doorway, leaning on it, a rumpled, sleepy mess.
A beautiful mess.
Sid dropped the phone as it buzzed with another message, but he ignored it. He loved Anna, but she’d have to wait. “You’re awake,” he said stupidly.
Dante nodded. “I am.”
“You look like you died while you were gone.”
“Maybe I did.”
Sid shivered. “I don’t like that joke.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am, not for my shitty humour, though. For everything else. I feel like your life was pretty chill until I fucked it up with my drama.”
“Chill?” Sid snorted and gave in to the urge to drift to Dante’s side. “There’s nothing chill about being lonely as fuck. It’s horrible, and being around you makes me feel like I’m living again.”
Dante slid his hands over Sid’s hips, reeling him in. “I don’t understand how someone as vibrant as you needs a fuck-up like me to feel alive.”
“So? You don’t need to understand everything. Just let it happen.”
“I—” Dante shook his head. “Fuck, there’s so much I want to say, but I can’t string a sentence together.”
“Still tired?”
“I’ve been tired for years. Why would it matter now?”
Because you matter.Sid pressed against Dante, absorbing the flash of heat from his bare abdomen. There was a lot he wanted to say too, but kissing Dante happened before he knew what he was doing, a soft brush of lips that sucked every ounce of air from his lungs and swayed him so hard that he stumbled.
Dante caught him, but for once, his equilibrium was as shady as Sid’s. He staggered back, hitting the edge of the bed.
Sid pushed him down and fell on top of him, covering him with his body in a careful accident, somehow still kissing him.
Dante gasped and wrapped his legs around Sid’s waist. It was an out-of-character move that hooked them closer together, driving all sense of space from between them and gifting Sid with a primal surge of desire that made his head spin and every drop of blood he possessed rush south.
Fucking A. Sid didn’t have to look to know his dick had chosen today of all days to come back to life. Itthrobbedwith a deep, desperate, and sweet ache that only the awful bruises marring Dante’s torso kept in check.
Dante felt it, though. How could he not when Sid was skewering him to the bed? “I want you to fuck—”
A knock at the door cut him off.
Sid growled and drove his fist into the mattress. “My fucking sister.”
“How do you know?”
“Who else would it be?”
Dante had no answer to that. He opened his arms—and his legs—and let Sid go.
Sid rolled away, hating his twin as much as he loved her. He tucked his rigid cock behind the waistband of his sweats and stood. “Can you see it?”
“I’m not looking.” Dante spoke from behind his forearm. “I’ll fucking explode, I swear down.”
“Look at my face then.” Sid turned back to Dante and pried his arm away. “You’re safe now, you know that, don’t you?”