His Twin’s Lips Tasted Like Deja Vu

I still had no idea why he’d fallen for me in our past life.

But the fact that he took the coffee without any reaction this time?

That alone told me—things were already playing out differently.

‘Unless… he’s been reborn too?’

The thought popped into my head out of nowhere, and before I could fully process it, Rocco had already hit his limit.

His jaw was clenched so tight that I could imagine the veins on his forehead bulging. His eyes were bloodshot, blazing red with desire. But even then, there was still a trace of clarity in his gaze. He was fighting it.

He ground his teeth and looked at me. “Susie, actually… I’m—”

And right then, I knew. He really had been reborn.

‘Perfect. That’ll make my revenge so much easier.’

So I didn’t let him finish. Instead, I slipped my arms around his neck and kissed him first.

Whatever self-control he had left vanished instantly.

He kissed me back, hard—wild, fevered, and utterly dominant.

Again and again and again…

The last round ended in the bathroom, with my back against the wall.

He had one hand under my thighs, holding me up, and I had both arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

But the bastard was teasing me—on purpose—not going in.

I let out a frustrated breath, leaned in, and gave his Adam’s apple a playful but urgent bite.

“Come on already…”

He let out a quiet chuckle, his voice husky as he slid a hand up the back of my head. “Say it again.”

“R-Renzo…”

“Wrong name!”

Just like that, he thrust into me—hard. Like punishment.

“Ah…”

My whole body curled into his as a tremble shot through me.

“Call me babe,” he growled low in my ear, his voice rough and magnetic, like it was pulling me under.

I bit down on the back of my hand and whimpered, “Babe. Babe… Babe…”

The third time I said it, something in him snapped.

He lost control completely.

He moved like a man possessed. My body went soft in his arms, like a fish out of water—lips parted, gasping, barely able to breathe.

By the time I woke up, it was still dark out.

But Rocco… He was already gone.

I slipped on my pajama robe and padded out of the bedroom quietly.

Sure enough, there was light coming from the study.

I leaned against the wall and peeked through the crack of the door.

Rocco was lounging lazily on the couch in the sitting area while Renzo stood across from him, fuming.

“Bro, how the hell could you go into the wrong room?”

He was livid—face flushed, voice shaking.

“Do you have any idea? Susie is the woman I love most in this world!”

Rocco just crossed his legs, lit a cigarette, and gave him a slow sideways glance.

“Really? I had no idea.” He blew out a lazy puff of smoke before adding, “Didn’t you just sneak out of the guest bedroom downstairs? Out of Ciara’s bed?”

Renzo flared up instantly. “That was… That was her! Ciara tempted me!”

Rocco gave a cold laugh. “Too late for excuses. So what do you want now?”

Renzo’s tone shifted immediately. He stole a glance at his brother’s face and changed tactics.

“I mean, it’s just a woman, right? No big deal. If you like her, I don’t mind stepping back for a bit. You can play around with her.”

“But,” he added casually, like he hadn’t just called me a toy, “you know that Project Shoreline—Grandpa gave it to you the moment you came back. I’ve been managing it all this time. I’d really like to keep it.”

Rocco smirked, like he’d been waiting for him to say that.

“Sure,” he said easily. “I’ll talk to Grandpa tomorrow. Tell him you’ll stay in charge of that project.”

He paused, his tone light but sharp. “Just remember—you take full responsibility. Profit or loss, it’s all on you.”

Renzo agreed immediately. He looked like he’d just won the lottery.

As soon as Rocco stood up, I turned around and dashed back to the bedroom. I dove under the covers, shut my eyes, and pretended to be fast asleep.

The next time I woke up, it was already noon.

Still in my camisole, I made my way downstairs.

The moment I reached the corner, I spotted Renzo sitting at the dining table.

My footsteps froze.

I stared hard at the back of his head, unable to look away.

Almost like he could feel it, he turned and looked straight at me.