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I imagined Cary’s unimpressed tilt of his head. Like an accusatory stare towards a dog that toothed the metal toes of his country boots. All because I still couldn’t say ‘dick’. Which got me thinking about how Rio had exaggerated an inch or two, correlating their package with the number nine, and how I’d felt one of those against my lower back in a delicious state of arousal.
Just when I tried to shake off the tingle in my panties, Rio groaned. Perfect timing. I shoved his cup in front of him.
“I’m not usually into this kind of stuff.”
“Penises touching…?” I nudged my chin, adding a weak, “They look like they’re sword fighting.”
I pulled my lips around my teeth. Not exactly progress. Cary had tainted testing this out in front of his boys.
Prude.
“Uh, yeah.” Rio cleared his throat and echoed mockingly, “Penises.”
Although he agreed, it seemed more like he did so to protect his drawing. Or himself. Because that pleading look had to mean something. And now I didn’t know who felt more uncomfortable. Me, because I couldn’t pronounce another word for the male productive system and he knew, or Rio, because he was hiding a picture where two fictional guys, who looked a great deal like Misha and Rio, were taking very good care of not just each other, but also a girl I’d never seen before.
I nodded, raising my mug in between us until he caught up and clinked his mug against mine.
“What are we drinking to?”
“To forbidden desires?” I clasped my lips around the porcelain edge, hoping he wouldn’t notice there was a secret I kept myself.
Rio took a sip, watching me from beneath those inky lashes. Examining those silver orbs, I knew with absolute certainty they could fool a lot of people. They probably had, knowing the Volt generation didn’t skip benign rascality. Offensive, sure, but mostly harmless.
I couldn’t find a distinct tale thar marked Rio’s face from Ares’. Perfectly identical in every way, but still, no flutter in my belly.
Ridiculous.
He delivered a saucy smile, recuperated from my discovery. If that was the right way to describe it. Or he’d opened the top of my head and fished out a piece of film where the pool scene unfolded.
“Who says it’s forbidden?”
He let the question linger. Surely, he didn’t know what had happened. Then what was he talking about?
“No idea who that third person is you drew but I’m certain the male was—"
“You really want to go there, sis?” He warned with an edge to it.
Aha. So there really was some evil connection. The twins weren’t so different from each other. When Rio spun the bad boy carrousel, he awfully reminded me of Ares.
Which he was referring to.
“Saw Ares sneak back into the house a couple of nights ago. That midnight snack made him look”—he tilted his head to the pool—“obstipated.”
I swallowed and faked arrogance. “It’s hard to digest pool water if you’re used to swimming around in sulfur. The devil reincarnated should know better than wanting to rise into godlike divinity. ”
“It wouldn’t have to be. If he used his battered wings to shelter you instead of attempting to fly.” He examined me, knowing I was circumnavigating around it. “So, is he? Keeping you shielded?”
No, he was not. He was keeping me in a trackless sequestered spot. Wounded and allured, and I only dug myself further into self-damage. The shadows were cold and lonely.
Feeling put in place, I resigned back to his skills rather than be a looky-loo. “You have talent, Rio.”
Rio shuffled back onto the breakfast chair. He had me so on edge, I hadn’t noticed he’d been too. Literally.
“Thanks.”
“So, aren’t we going to talk about yours?”
Our heads turned to the living room, where a pair of untied Vans shuffled to us. His icy blues infiltrated the light. He’d shed his glasses. Our gamer had something going on there. He looked entirely different without his face wear. His cheekbones were more profound and so were his eyes. Or, at least one eye, since part of his blond hair fell to the forefront of his face.
