Chapter 8
JASMINE
The pistol was cocked and pressed into Kai’s temple.
My throat burned with the scream I tried to release, but no sound came out no matter how hard I fought.
My muscles locked, useless. Strong arms yanked me back down into the seat when I tried to stand, my body thrashing against restraints that weren’t there.
Kai lurched forward and the deafening crack split the air.
I woke with a start, heart pounding against my ribs like it wanted out, lungs clawing for air.
My eyes darted around the unfamiliar room, shadows tilting strangely in the dim light, sweat prickling my forehead.
For a breathless second, I didn’t know where I was.
Then the weight across my chest registered—a heavy, warm arm.
Kai’s arm.
Relief hit so hard it left me dizzy, the shift from dream to reality too sharp, too cruel. My body was still braced for the shot that never came.
The image seared itself into my brain, that split-second stretch of terror where I was sure he was gone. Even asleep, my mind had replayed it in merciless detail, until the panic had nowhere to go but into my own body.
I blinked, my throat tight, and turned my head toward the bulk pressed against me. Kai's chest rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep, his breath tickling my hair. My pulse began to slow. It had only been a dream. Just a dream.
Except it wasn’t. We’d already lived that nightmare. The only difference was the ending.
At least the real-life version hadn’t ended with a bang. Well, not that kind of bang. That ridiculous thought made me snicker, which was apparently enough to wake him.
Kai’s arm tightened around me, pulling me closer. His voice was low, rough with sleep as he pressed a kiss to the back of my head. “What’s so funny?” He nuzzled my hair. “I’m glad to hear you laughing, but I hope it wasn’t about my performance last night.”
I wriggled free enough to turn and face him. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his long, sun-streaked hair awry, and damn if he didn’t look smug anyway. “I had three orgasms,” I reminded him, the memory warming me from the inside out. “That’s something to smile about, but nothing to laugh at.”
“Good,” he said with mock seriousness. “But I can do better than three.”
Confidence rolled off him in waves. It was what had drawn me both times we’d met—his easy, reckless certainty.
“Three is a pretty big accomplishment,” I admitted with a shy laugh.
The number still echoed through me, leaving my body tender, sensitive, humming like every nerve had been rewired.
Truth be told, it tied my record. Sadly, that record had been set with Chad Larkin, a total douchebag sophomore year who’d treated me like crap.
But the sex had been unmatched—until last night.
“But hey,” I added, lips curving, “I’m happy to let you try harder if you’re an overachiever.”
“Yeah?” His grin widened. “You wanna go for number four?”
“Technically, it would be the new number one since it’s a fresh count.”
“Maybe we should keep a running total,” he teased, hand sliding over my hip. “See how fast I can get you to a hundred.”
The prospect was both intriguing and exhausting. Still, his self-challenge cracked me up. “Wow, you’re really competitive, aren’t you?”
“Lil bit.” His innocent grin contrasted with the way his fingers trailed up my back, threading into my hair. “That’s not a bad thing, though. It pushes me to try harder. To do better.”
“That’s true. My sister’s like that. I don’t have it, though.”
“No? You don’t like to win?” His hand slipped lower, sliding over my stomach and between my thighs with wicked intent.
“I like winning, it’s just not a priority. Like, it’s great if it happens, but not the end of the world if it doesn’t.”
“You seemed to enjoy it last night,” he said, working his fingers into my wetness.
“Wait a minute…” I gasped, trying to clarify. “I’m talking about winning. You’re talking about orgasms. I care a lot more about orgasms than winning.”
“Orgasms are winning, don’t you think?”
“Definitely.” My sigh came out shaky as my hips tilted under his touch. Pleasure flared hot and insistent, chasing away the shadows of my nightmare, tethering me to this moment where nothing existed but this man and the way he made me feel.
Kai kissed me softly, whispering against my lips, “You deserve allll the orgasms.” His fingertips coaxed my clit while our tongues tangled in a deepening kiss.
Then a loud thud reverberated through the house. I froze, the sound a gunshot in my nerves. Every cell in my body braced, the echo collapsing into memory—zip ties, guns, voices barking threats.
I jerked away, ears straining. Another noise—the slam of a door, followed by muffled movement. My heart spiked, dragging me straight back into the nightmare. “What the fuck was that?” I whispered, propping on my elbow as if higher ground would help me hear.
“Relax,” Kai murmured, brushing my hair back. “It’s just my brother bringing the dogs home.”
“Are you sure?” My voice was thin.
“Yes, I’m sure. It was already arranged.” He kissed the tip of my nose, trying to pull me back into ease. Then he raised his voice toward the door. “Yo! I have company, so don’t come barging in.”
“Heard,” came the answer from the other room.
I sagged against the pillow, adrenaline still burning through my veins. I remembered watching Kai twist the deadbolt last night. If someone had come in, it had to be a brother with a key. Still, my chest squeezed with unease.
“Relax, beautiful. Let me take care of you.” His laugh was easy, like nothing about this was alarming. “Where were we?”
My anxiety didn’t listen to logic. It never did.
It wasn’t just about his brother being in the next room.
It was about the memory of being tied up on his couch at gunpoint, about knowing those men weren’t finished with us.
The fear was awake now, prowling inside me.
But I didn’t want to admit weakness. Not to him.
If I gave voice to it, the fear would take over.
Better to mask it, to turn the moment playful even as my insides twisted.
So instead, I forced a smile. “We should wait until we’re alone if you want to make progress toward your goal,” I teased, though my voice shook faintly. “I’m easily distracted.”
“Not the first time my brother has cock-blocked me,” Kai grumbled, but his grimace smoothed into a grin.
I slid out from under the sheets, scanning the room for my clothes. “You hungry? I can whip us up some breakfast.”
“You cook?” He tossed back the covers and stretched, popping to his feet with a grin. “I didn’t think you could get any sexier,” he winked, grabbing a white tank from the chair and pulling it over his head.
My clothes from last night reeked faintly of bar smoke and spilled beer. Twisting my hair into a low bun, I followed him toward the kitchen. “Do you have eggs? I make a mean omelet.”
“Yeah, just got a dozen. In the fridge.” He padded out the back door to greet the dogs, I presumed.
The refrigerator was jammed, mostly with bottles—beer, protein shakes, sports drinks. I shoved several of them aside to dig out the carton of eggs buried at the back. The cool air on my arms soothed me, at least until I closed the fridge door and nearly screamed.
Kai barreled into the kitchen out of nowhere, bounding in with wet hair and a Nirvana T-shirt. My heart slammed into my throat.
“Jesus! You scared the shit out of me,” I snapped, glare automatic.
He froze, confused, staring at me like I’d lost my mind.
Before I could ask him when he’d had time to shower and change, another Kai—my Kai—strolled in behind him in his wifebeater, grinning like an idiot.
Two of them. Identical.
My mouth went dry. My eyes darted back and forth between them, over and over, until my brain finally caught up. Twins. Of course.
But the dawning didn’t stop at relief. It slid darker.
The memory crashed into me—Hog Heaven, the pulsing bass, the blur of rumrunners and neon lights.
The stranger who’d pressed me against the wall, who’d kissed me like we had history when we didn’t.
The jawline was the same. The grin, identical.
But something in the eyes—one pair sharp and restless, the other softer, heavier with mischief.
Was it Kai or his carbon copy at Hog Heaven three years ago?
The question detonated in my chest, shattering every assumption I’d made about us. Heat rose in my cheeks, not the blush of desire but of humiliation. Had I hooked up with the wrong man then? Was I falling for the right one now? Or had this all been a mistake written in duplicate?
My head went light, hands numb. The carton of eggs slipped through my fingers, hitting the tile with a wet splat that echoed the chaos in my mind. The mess spread across the floor, yolk and shell scattering like the pieces of my certainty, impossible to put back together.