Mas freezes.
I freeze.
“You two don’t get to fight over me. I’m not an object. I’m not a prize. I’m not something to ‘claim.’” Her gaze pins Mas first, then swings to me. “And you,” she pokes her nail into my chest, “Stop provoking him just because you’re insecure and bored.”
“Insecure? I’m not. I’m literally . . . I mean, look at me. I get pussy all the time.”
My mouth falls open. But she’s got me on the bored part. Mas snorts, wiping his face like he’s trying to erase the last five minutes.
“She means emotionally, idiot. Not your baby face.”
“HEY.” I point at him, offended. “This face pulls more ass than a Harley-Davidson.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” he mutters, annoyed and shit.
“BOTH OF YOU.” Sofia throws her hands up. “Jesús, María y José.”
She steps back, breathing hard, like we’ve drained every ounce of patience she had left.
“For the record,” she says quietly, like defeated or something. “I care about both of you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. But I’m not yours. Not yet. Not until I decide it. Not until I feel safe. Not until I know that I won’t regret letting either of you close.”
Mas deflates like someone popped his entire rib cage. My chest goes tight in a way I don’t understand. Like I want to crack a joke, but my stomach won’t let me.
“This is your fault. You started choking her,” Mas growls, edging closer to her, which is closer to me, and she’s giving him a bad look.
“Say it again, Mas, I swear?—”
“BASTA!” she yells, whatever that means, but the look I know well. She gave it to me all the damn time in the hospital when she wanted me to shut up. So, I do. My brother does too.
“Fine. No choking. Got it.” I hate that I conceded like a little bitch. But if it will keep her happy and Mas from unfairly jumping my ass, then so be it. “But can I just say it’s your fault, my angel, for being such a hottie and making me want to do nasty shit to you?”
My heartbeat is doing dumb shit again. Dumber than my mouth. Mas scrubs a hand over his face, but I’m not wrong. It’s her fault that she’s hot. Or maybe even her mom’s. Who knows, but it’s not all my fault.
“You lie on the bed.” She points her finger at me like she did with her red marker at the hospital. I hobble over, my cast feeling like a thousand pounds with both of them watching. “No one is going to help me. Damn, I see how it is.”
Mas rolls his eyes so hard his whole skull tilts back. Doesn’t lift one finger.
My angel, with her tits and ass all hanging out, slides under my arm and presses that fine body next to me. I do a big, loud groan like a damn actor and collapse in a heap. She even helps me get my shorts over the edge of the plaster and pulls them off so my cock is free and ready to fuck.
“Sit on me.” I grin up at her, hands behind my head like I’m posing for a calendar shoot. “Face or dick, your choice.”
“Read the damn room, Em,” Mas snaps, disgusted and jealous. “You fucking ruined it.”
I blink and gesture at my body.
“Ruined it? Bro, I am the room.”
“Enough, Nene,” she scolds, but my hand is already on her hip, caressing the soft skin covered in tiger stripes. I’m going to bite each one. “I will show you how I do it.”
She climbs on the bed, and I widen my legs. Ready for a snack and a show. She’s fine as hell when she crouches low between my thighs. But it’s her eyes. Those fucking dark brown eyes that are rearranging shit in my chest.
My cock jumps with excitement. Mas says we have the same dick, size, and all. I think he lied when we measured. Mine looks wide as fuck when she spreads her mouth to cover it.
“Hell yeah. She’s blowing me and not you. Jealous twin?”
Mas just stands there like a dumbass, watching. He does that sometimes. I prefer to get into the game. Fuck things up and get off. He’s always been a sap. Dude already loves this chick, but she doesn’t even know it.
“Not a chance.”
