"The new owner?" He shrugged. "I don't know, but I doubt it."
To be honest, so do I. "What about Nick? Does he know?"
"Of course. We're twins. We're very close. We share everything--we've always shared everything from birth onward--including our thoughts."
"So where do you live exactly? In this house, or in one of the outbuildings?"
"The second floor mostly because no one goes up there."
"You mean the third floor, right?"
"No. I mean the second. You enter the house on the main floor, we're on the first floor now, and I live on the second."
I have a foggy recollection of Ginnie telling me the Brits don't label their floors the way we do, but I'd forgotten until now. "Where I come from we don't bother with a main floor, we just go one, two, three and so on." I hesitate for a second. "Anyway, I know which floor you mean, I was up there."
Whoever this person is, the smile he gives me is a duplicate of Nick's. Even so, I'm beginning to notice slight differences between him and Nick--like the tiny, white scar at the corner of his mouth. I'm sure Nick doesn't have a scar like that.
"I know. I saw you when you came up. That's why I decided to venture downstairs."
"I see."
"The first time I came down was last night, but you were asleep."
"Sorry about that." I think about the dream I had last night--the one where Nick and I made love. At least I think it was a dream. But then I remember what he said about him and Nick sharing...everything? And I start to wonder...
He hesitates, as if he's not quite sure what to say, but then he says, "You're very beautiful with your green eyes and red hair, and your skin is so creamy and silky-soft. Nick thinks so, too."
I get a sudden attack of goose bumps and the hair on the back of my neck is standing to attention. This guy knows how my skin feels?
Okay, I realize there's something more than a little weird about this situation. I just wish I could figure out what it is. "If you two share everything, why can't you go live with Nick?"
He leaves the bed abruptly and starts toward the door. "I can't. I have to stay here. And now, I need to go back upstairs."
"Will I see you again later?"
"Perhaps. I'll have to see."
The next thing I know, he's gone. I didn't hear the snick of the door opening when he arrived or closing when he left, but since he can't walk through solid wood, I have to assume my bed is too far from the door for me to have heard.
Nathan and Nick may be twins--in fact, I'm sure they are because they're as alike as two peas in a pod to look at, but Nathan comes across as much younger and far less worldly--which I guess isn't too surprising if he lives all alone on the third floor with no one but the dust bunnies to talk to. But I have to wonder where he gets his meals and how he does his laundry and cleaning? From what I saw of the second floor, as he calls it, everything was thick with dust, as if it hadn't been touched in years. And what does he do for money? He obviously doesn't work.
He says Nick knows about him living here. But if he isn't Nick, and I'm almost certain he isn't, I wonder if Nick knows for sure, or if he only suspects? If it's the latter, it would explain Nick's cautious behavior whenever he comes in the house--such as the way he keeps looking over his shoulder as if he expects someone to jump out at him. Then again, if he does know, why allow the situation to continue? Even more important, why hasn't he told me?
And, now that I think about it, why didn't I see a single footprint or even the odd fingerprint in all those acres of dust in the rooms on the third floor? Or did I miss the room where Nathan lives? I don't recall seeing any locked doors, but then I didn't check each and every one. I merely took a quick look around and came back down. Even so...
But that's tomorrow's problem. I check my watch to see that it's a few minutes shy of four in the morning. Too early to get up, so I settle down again and close my eyes. I'll go up to the third floor in daylight, figure out where Nathan is hiding, and suggest he come down and stay in one of the nicer rooms, at least until Mr. McIven returns.
* * * *
"'Morning, sweetheart. It's eight o'clock. Time to get up and at 'em."
I struggle to open my eyes and sit up, but opening my eyes is as far as I get. Someone, and I'm pretty sure it's Nick, is sitting on the edge of the bed and using his delicious, sugar-coated lips to kiss me.
"Nick?" I mumble, pushing him off so I can breathe properly.
"Of course. Who did you think it was? Your favorite movie star?"
"No, I have a nasty suspicion Orlando is busy elsewhere." One other name certainly springs to mind, but I think I'll save any questions about Nathan until later. "You been into those donuts again?"
"I was hungry. But I brought an extra one, and if you're very good to me, maybe I'll let you have it."
"What do I have to do?"
"Well, let me see..." He lifts the duvet an inch or two, and I feel the incredibly erotic touch of his cold hands against my warm skin. He caresses my breasts until I feel the nipples peak and harden, then he pushes back the covers, and my fingers thread through his hair, holding him prisoner, as his hot mouth and tongue take over, licking and nibbling, until I'm on fire with need.
His tongue moves down my body, drawing intricate patterns on my skin, while his hands stroke the inside of my thighs, urging me to part my legs. I try to resist, in an effort to extend the moment, but my need is too great, so my resistance lasts for less than a heartbeat.
I feel his hot breath on my muff, then his tongue finds my most sensitive spot and I shiver with ecstasy.
"Whatever you do, don't stop," I say on a groan. "That feels sooo goooood..."
But I barely finish what I'm saying before his mobile phone starts chirping like a demented bird. "No! Don't answer," I plead. "Please, I beg of you. No, no, no."
But already it's too late. He pulls up the covers, takes out his phone and flips it open. "Yes?"
I take comfort in the knowledge he doesn't appreciate the interruption any more than I do myself, but from the irritated but resigned expression on his face, I have a nasty feeling that what we just started will have to be put on hold indefinitely.
"When? Where?" His eyebrows draw together in an angry frown. "They what? You're saying the police dismissed the call as a prank? I don't believe this." He sighs and shakes his head, but the frown stays in place. "And getting hit twice in one night is really too much. Stay where you are. I'll be there as soon as I can."
He closes the phone, puts it back into his pocket, and brushes his lips against my forehead. "I'm sorry, love. I have to go. I have no choice. We've had another hijacking...this time on the other side of London. Apparently the driver saw it coming. His young son was in the cab with him, so he had the boy ring the police. But the stupid emergency operator thought because it was a kid calling it must be a joke and hung up. I'll be back as soon as I can."
I'm an adult, I know these things happen, and I know responsible service providers have to answer the call. But I'm wound up tighter than a clock, and the moment the door closes behind Nick, I turn onto my belly and pound the pillow with my fists. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is so not fair."
I don't know whether to indulge myself in an extended fit of screaming, resort to sobbing my heart out, or relieve my frustration in the time-honored fashion of DIY. Before I can make my mind up which way to go, I feel one side of the mattress dip slightly. I hold my breath. I thought Nick had gone. No way did I even harbor the faintest of hopes that he would relent and come back.
But then I feel strong arms wrap around me and hot lips begin to nuzzle my neck. "Feeling a little bit frustrated, are we?"
"You know damn well we are," I mutter into the pillow, aware he's taken his clothes off because his prick is now nudging against my butt. "And it's a good thing you came back, otherwise I'd have given serious consideration to changing the lock. Permanently."
He strokes and nibbles his way down to my waist, and then he turns me onto my
back. I'm on fire. I want him to get to the good part...now. Somehow, I manage not to rush things by closing my eyes and offering no resistance as he parts my legs and cups my butt in his hands. But instead of entering me, I feel his tongue teasing and touching, sending my need soaring.
I want him to fuck me now, not play games, but when I try to push him away, he laughs and starts alternately sucking and stabbing at my clit with his tongue.
"Please, Nick. Stop! If you don't, I'm going to come without you."
He stops immediately, and moves his face up within inches of mine. "I'm not Nick, you silly goose. I'm Nathan. Nick left some time ago. I thought you knew that."
Nathan?
I'm ready to freak, but somehow I control the urge. "So he did. Do I take this to mean you think you can pick up where he left off?"
"Of course. I told you we shared everything. And since he couldn't finish, I thought I'd play the gentleman and help you out."
"Really? That's assuming a lot." I can't believe I'm being so cool about this, but what choice do I have?
Do I even want a choice?
"You're saying you don't want me?"
"No. I can assure you there's no way I'm saying that. But I...umm...I..." The fact is I haven't a clue what to say. I've never been in this ridiculous position before. And to make matters worse, his gorgeous big dick is playing peek-a-boo with my muff. I don't think I can say no, not even if my life depended on it, and I thank the powers that be it doesn't. "I don't know what to say. I wish I did, but I'm afraid I don't."
Capturing my gaze, he opens my folds and pushes the head of his cock into my slit. "Just say yes. You're so hot and so wet you're almost on fire. Come on, love. Admit that you need me."
"I...err...I don't know." That's a lie. I know all too well what I want. And I'm afraid I'm falling in love with Nathan as fast as I did with Nick.
But I can't love two men at the same time. Or can I?
"You know alright." He laughs and pushes in a little further, and I swallow my misgivings. He's big, he's hard like a rock, and he feels so damn good. And if I don't take what he's offering, I'm going to have to do it myself. And why go to all that trouble when he's not only willing, he's already halfway there?
Without warning, he pushes in the rest of the way and I feel the roughness of his groin hair against my skin. "Oh, shit!"
He slips a finger under my chin and lifts my mouth to meet his. "Can I take that as a yes?"
"Take it however you want. I just need you to fuck me, sugar. And do it fast before I explode."
Nathan has me up and over the edge in no time flat, but as I float gently back to earth, he whispers, "I hope you realize Nick is always being called away on one emergency or another. But not to worry, I'm always available. Just whisper my name, and I'll try to help."
* * * *
It's way after nine when I finally make my way down to the kitchen and start a pot of coffee. After being disappointed because Nick had to rush off, I guess the wild dream I had about Nathan got me off--at least it did in my mind--and back on track. Now, I feel refreshed and full of life. And I'm quite certain it was a dream. I don't care how close Nathan and Nick are, there's no way something like that would happen in real life. I know, it was just my subconscious mind dealing with my frustration, and I have to admit it was kinda fun. The absolute zenith of kink as far as I'm concerned.
And the best part is I have nothing to feel guilty about because I also know my first meeting with Nathan was a dream, too. If someone had been living up there on the third floor there would be evidence of some kind--faint sounds, elusive odors, something. And there wouldn't be layers of dust, looking as perfect and untouched as freshly fallen snow.
But I know for absolute certain Nick's fleeting visit was real because I found a grease-stained, brown paper bag on my nightstand, containing the second donut. As for the rest... I guess my brain's had so much to deal with lately, trying to accept everything I had to deal with in L.A., then taking a complete one-eighty and doing its best to adapt to a whole new way of life here in England. I guess the poor thing hit overload, the circuits snapped under the strain, and the dreams were the result. I really have no other explanation. I have no idea where the name Nathan came from, though. I don't know any Nathans, so I must have read the name in a book, or saw it somewhere in a magazine.
I pick up the carafe and refill my mug with coffee. Even if it was only a dream, I admit to being a tad embarrassed that I'm enjoying having two men instead of just one. Like everyone else, I've heard about les ménages à trois, and, of course, like the rest of the uninitiated, I've wondered what it would be like. I've also seen the movies, and I knew a woman in L.A. who shared her home with two guys. I can't recall the woman's name, but what I do remember is she always went around with a big grin plastered on her face. Now I know why. Having two great guys is enough to keep any woman happy.
But here in the real world--my here and now world--I don't see Nick sharing a bed with myself and another man, and I don't fancy doing it myself. Even so, the idea of having two gorgeous men on tap, ready and willing to cater to my needs sounds pretty damn good--like every woman's dream of paradise.
* * * *
Nick finally returns around lunchtime. Thanks to the cops not turning up in time, he tells me they lost the load of expensive electronic equipment on the truck, but the driver and his kid are okay and the load was well insured.
I know he's tired from running around all night, but after a lunch of bread, cheese and a couple of glasses of McIven's wine, he gets his second wind, and we spend the afternoon in bed, picking up where we left off earlier.
When we run out of steam, we get up and go down to the kitchen in search of something for dinner, I notice him doing the glancing around thing again. He darts quick glances here and there, over his shoulder, along empty corridors and into dark corners.
I almost ask if he's looking for something, but the uncertain, slightly worried, or maybe it's a scared expression on his face, convinces me not to. Instead, I wait until I'm rummaging through the refrigerator for ideas, and I ask casually, "You an only child or do you have any brothers or sisters?"
"No sisters. But I once had a brother."
Had? "What happened to him?"
"He died."
I get the impression he's not going to say any more as he sits down at the table and pours us both a glass of wine from the bottle we opened for lunch, but then he surprises me by saying, "I miss him so bloody much, you have absolutely no idea. Nathan and I were so close. We always did everything together--"
At the mention of the name, my mind goes blank, my muscles spasm, and the dish I'm holding slips from my hands and hits the tiled floor with a loud crash. Fortunately, there was nothing in it.
Nick immediately comes to my aid. "You alright? What happened?" he asks, frowning as he scoops up the bits of broken china.
I quickly regain control of my thoughts and my muscles. "I'm fine. Guess I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing. You were saying?"
"You mean about my brother?" He shoves the debris into the trash and washes his hands at the sink. "Sorry. Nathan's been dead almost five years now, but I still get a little carried away whenever I talk about him. We were identical twins--two halves of the same whole, and I understand it's normal to feel the way I do. And maybe if..." He hesitates, then shrugs and shoots me a brave attempt at a smile. "Forget it! No use talking about something that may never happen."
"Please, Nick, tell me. I realize losing a sibling must be an awful thing, but talk to me about him. Sometimes talking helps." I'm kinda working in the dark here, so I add, "Especially if you feel you were to blame in some way for his death."
"No. Nothing like that. Nathan was killed here in Foxton in a freak traffic accident. He was driving through the village when a furniture delivery vehicle coming in the opposite direction lost its steering and hit his car." His lips twisted in a grimace. "It happened not far from here. The paramedics knew Nathan wouldn'
t live long enough to reach the hospital, so they brought him here to the hall to die."
"Why did they do that?"
"Because..." The look he gives me runs the gamut from challenging to apologetic. "Because the ambulance driver knew this is where we were born. Our family no longer owned Foxton Hall at that point, but there was no one living here and the driver said he thought it appropriate given the circumstances."
My eyes feel a little misty, so I sit down beside Nick and take his cold hands in mine. "That's so sad. And I think it's a really beautiful thing what the ambulance guy did. But I have a feeling there's more to your brother's death than what you've said."
He looks a little reluctant to continue, so I release his hands and return to my investigation of the refrigerator. "Why don't you tell me the rest of it while I make dinner?"
"If I do, you'll think I'm a head case."
I grab some potatoes from the veggie bin and start peeling. "I'll risk it."
"Well...I think I told you the previous owner, who, of course, was my father, was in dire financial straits when he died. By selling almost everything we had, Nathan, myself and my mother managed to hang on here until she followed Father. Once Mother was gone, the death duties had to be paid and the only way we could do that was by selling the property. It was all we had left."
"To McIven?" I quarter the potatoes, put them in the pot, add water and salt, and switch on the stove.
"No. To a hotel chain. Nathan and I were also business partners, and we hoped we could make enough money in the interval between our parents' deaths to keep the property in the family. But Mother died much sooner than we'd expected."
I put two filets of fish in the broiler pan and take out the makings of a salad. "So then the two of you had to leave?"
"Once it was sold, we had no choice. We found ourselves a house in the village, and made a pact that one of these days we'd find a way to get the hall back. It seemed like an impossible goal at the time, but then our security business took off like a bomb, and we heard a rumor the hotel chain had decided the renovations were too costly and was looking to sell. We were all ready to make an offer when Nathan was killed."
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