Breath saws from me. “Who… who’s Griffin?”
The right side of his mouth lifts, the brackets of his smile re-establishing that:
This. Is. Beck.
“My twin brother,” he says, both warmly and a little abashed.
My eyes run over him, calling roll on all of his colors, and each one is present. And guess what?
No chestnut.
No cinnamon.
Amber eyes, not brown.
A full, oxygen-drenched breath fills my lungs, sending precious molecules to my veins and into every cell.
And I exhale in relief. “Oh… Your twin brother.” As the words leave me, I smile.
Then I laugh.
I really laugh. Because it feels good. Amazing, even.
And Beck laughs too, moving closer.
Then he stops. So close a sheet of paper could scarcely pass between us.
“May I hug you?” Laughter is still brimming in his eyes, in the golden contours of his face. It’s so pretty, I almost lose my breath again.
“Yes,” I say, nodding.
And then his arms are around me, only I can feel his carefulness, his measured lightness, and I almost shudder.
“Tighter,” I say, unwinding my own arms from my middle and snaking them around his ribs before squeezing tight.
And then his arms lock around me. Tight. Perfect. Our chests seal together, and I am bound in a fierce, warm hug. I press the side of my cheek into the mass of his chest that is both hard and yielding, his muscles solid, but not like rock.
Alive. Strong. And comfy.
“Like this?” His voice is close to my ear, husky in his attempt to soften it, and it sends chills down the back of my neck.
A sigh pours from me. “Mmm hmmm.”
It’s been years. Literally, years. Since anyone’s held me like this. In this just-right-tight that makes it easy—irresistible, even—to unspool.
I don’t make the decision. My eyes just drift closed, and when I inhale, I drink in his scent. Clean, male sweat. Cotton. And the subtle nip of something verdant. Not quite the scent of cut grass, but something botanical. Green.
The way Castleton green would smell.
It’s only when I hear and feel him sigh that I blink my eyes open, totally unsure of how long we’ve stood in the middle of the park, hugging.
But, damn, I don’t want to let go.
This feels really good.
His chest fills, and I grin as I sort of go along for the ride.
“It’s good to see you,” he says through another sigh.