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Shit… do I have a hickey or a scratch?

And if I don’t, can he still tell?

“You look well-rested,” Björn says, leaning against the kitchen table… the exact same table I had Cillian pinned down on twenty minutes ago.

I triple-sanitized every surface, but it still smells like coconut oil. And no matter how clean that tabletop is, all I see when I look at it is Cillian’s gorgeous face coming apart for me.

Moaning my name.

“Did everything run smoothly out here?” Björn asks.

“Everything was secure.”

“Just secure?” He wiggles his eyebrows, stepping closer so the rest of the team can’t hear. “No… unexpected complications?”

“Nothing I couldn’t control.”

“Ugh!” Björn fake-gags, rolling his eyes. “Who wants control?”

“What about control?” Logan asks, walking in.

“That everything is ready to go and under control.” Björn grins and gives Logan a thumbs-up.

“Great,” Logan says, tossing me a duffel bag. “Dami sent this. Check it, change, do whatever you need. We leave in five.”

I check the bag… no onesies, no fishnets, and no secret dildos.

Perfect.

“Thanks, but I’m ready the second the primary is.”

Right on cue, Cillian opens the door and steps into the room.

He looks Leif up and down and smiles. “Oh, hi. You must be Leif. I’m Cillian.”

Leif blinks at him, confused.

Hell, we’re all stunned.

“You can tell us apart?” Leif asks.

“Yeah.” Cillian gestures toward us. “Can’t they?”

“They can now,” Björn laughs. “But it took them a month to tell us apart whenever our tattoos were covered.”

“Well, I’m an art major, and I’ve worked in restoration since I was thirteen. I’m trained to spot all the micro-differences.”

“Micro-differences?” Leif asks, looking at his twin.

“Yeah… like how your nails are almond-shaped while Björn’s are square, your eye creases are deeper when you smile, and your vermilion border is wider.”

“What the hell is a vermilion border?” Björn whispers to me, and I shake my head because I have no fucking idea.

Cillian turns to Björn. “Or how you tend to drop your left shoulder, and the bridge of your nose is slightly deviated.”

Björn gasps, touching his face. “My nose is crooked?!”

“Ha!” Leif laughs. “You’re uglier than me!”