Abby grips the passenger door. “I’m going to be sick.”
“Throw up in my car, and that will be the last thing you ever do.

Who are you?”
“Abby,” she says. “And you are?”
“Ethan,” I answer. “He’s my twin.”
Her eyes dart between us. “You don’t look anything alike.”
“I’m a boy. She’s a girl. I sure as hell hope we don’t,” says Ethan.

I bunch Rachel's hair in my fist. The silky strands rub the spot between my fingers and I press my lips to her head. My heart hurts and soars and hurts again, all at the same time. I said I love her. Love her.

The kiss comes hotter and faster than before. Our lips move quickly, a hunger grows between us that can’t seem to be quenched. There’s a rhythm, a dance, and somehow, I know the steps. An instinct tells me to follow his lead, to explore even further, to touch.
My hands drift down his back and when I feel scorching skin near the hem of his shirt, I gasp for air. Isaiah moans, and his lips leave mine to travel along my throat. My heart picks up speed as my entire body becomes one live electrical current.
His tongue swirls against the sensitive skin right where my jaw meets my neck. I shiver and press my body closer to his. When he meets my lips again, Isaiah loops his arm around my waist and pulls me farther onto the bed. On our sides, his body heat penetrates past my clothes, past my skin, creating an inferno in my blood.
A sudden coldness causes my eyes to flash open. Kneeling beside me, Isaiah’s hands go behind his head and he yanks off his shirt, tossing it to the floor. A flutter of excitement and nerves trembles in my stomach.

I lick my lips as his teeth nibble on my earlobe. Between my muscles melting under his touch, my blood tingling with the teasing of my ear and the way my foot rubs against his calf, my thoughts become hazy.
My shirt rides up and Isaiah rubs his thumb in small circles on the bare skin of my stomach. The sensation causes me to arch my back and Isaiah groans as I kiss his neck. I like these feelings. Actually, I more than like them. They’re addicting, and I love how every little thing I do causes Isaiah to kiss and touch me more.
He rolls and I move with him. Our tangled legs become unraveled as my thighs fall open, accepting his weight. Isaiah’s body over mine is heavier than I would have imagined, but it’s a weight I craved without knowing it.
Isaiah kisses up my neck and when his lips meet mine again, he rocks his hips. Suddenly very aware parts of him are touching very aware parts of me, and my head falls to the side as a new sensation spikes through my body.

Isaiah runs his hand through my hair, and every cell in my body vibrates with the gentle pull. “Rachel.”
“Yes.” It’s hard to breathe.
“Kiss me.”
Isaiah doesn’t wait for my answer. Instead his lips meet mine and his arms wrap around my body. All the hesitancy I felt the first night we kissed evaporates like mist on the heels of a summer storm. Within seconds, our mouths open, and Isaiah slips his tongue against mine. I get lost, liking the way my body curves around his, liking the way my hands explore as if they have a mind of their own, and loving how Isaiah grips my hair while tracing my spine.
Tingles and shock waves and earthquakes and hurricanes. All of it takes place at the same time as our mouths move not nearly fast enough. Nothing seems fast enough. The closer I become, the closer Isaiah presses, and the more he presses, the more I want to crawl inside and live in this delicious world of warmth and fantastic hunger.
Isaiah hooks an arm around my waist, and I suck in a breath when he turns us and shifts me up against the door to his Mustang. My eyes widen and I stare up at him as he stares down at me. Our chests move in unison, as do our breaths. My fingers curl into the muscles of his arms, and I briefly close my eyes, loving how his body fits into mine.