His Twin’s Lips Tasted Like Deja Vu

He frowned, looking a little irritated. “You just woke up? It’s lunchtime already.”

I took a breath, settled my expression, and walked down the stairs slowly, my steps graceful and unhurried.

Once I reached him, I sat down beside him and shot him a playful look, my tone half-teasing, half-accusing.

“Well, whose fault do you think it is? You were so wild last night my body couldn’t handle it!”

His hand froze mid-slice. The knife scraped across the plate with a loud screech, metal against porcelain. It was sharp, grating just like the tension that suddenly filled the room.

I tilted my head, feigning confusion. “Renzo? What’s wrong?”

His gaze dropped immediately to the red marks scattered along my collarbone and chest—obvious signs left behind from last night.

I let my cheeks flush like I was shy about it, but I couldn’t resist smiling just a little. Still, I kept up the act and praised him sweetly.

“You were amazing last night, babe. Seriously, I’ve never felt that satisfied before.”

Right then, I caught his breath hitch—just for a second—and saw his hand curl into a tight fist under the table. His voice came out low and cold, laced with something sharp.

“Never… before?”

Crap. I blinked and quickly clapped my hand over my mouth, as if realizing I’d slipped. But then I leaned toward him with a teasing smile and gave him a playful wink.

“Oops, did I say that out loud? I mean—you’ve always been amazing, of course!”

Renzo stiffened. His face darkened instantly, turning the color of burned toast.

I pretended not to notice and looked at him with wide-eyed admiration. “But last night? Wow. You were especially incredible.”

He stared at me blankly like his brain had suddenly shut down. He didn’t even blink.

So I stood up and stepped behind him, wrapping my arms gently around his shoulders. Leaning in close, I whispered against his ear, my voice soft and full of fake shyness.

“You really don’t know how to hold back, do you?” I let out a little laugh before adding, “The bathroom was one thing, but the windowsill? What if someone saw us? I would’ve died of embarrassment!”

He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles were twitching.

A long, tense silence followed before he finally grabbed my wrists and shoved me gently back into my seat.

“Just eat your damn breakfast.”

I smiled sweetly and picked up my knife and fork like a well-behaved little wife.

But I could hear the way his breathing grew more and more uneven, like he was fighting to stay calm.

Then, out of nowhere, he slammed his utensils down, the sharp clatter breaking the silence. He pushed back his chair with a screech and stood up abruptly.

“I’ve got stuff to do. I’m heading out.”

I gave him a bright, understanding smile and nodded. “Okay! Oh—and if you pass by that bakery, bring me back one of those strawberry cupcakes I love!”

His fists clenched at his sides again, and his voice came out low and tight. “Yeah. I know.”

Since it was summer break, I didn’t have to worry about school. After finishing my meal, I brought my laptop into the garden room, nestled among the flowers and warm sunlight.

I spent the afternoon online, looking up a few things and ordering a couple items. By the time I closed my laptop, the sky outside had turned golden-pink with sunset, and the air inside was thick with the scent of blooming flowers.

I stretched lazily and let out a deep sigh. ‘Honestly? Rich people really do know how to enjoy life.’

Right then, a tall shadow fell over me.

Someone leaned in, plucked the frameless glasses off my nose, and held them casually in his fingers.

Startled, I looked up. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if it was Renzo or Rocco.

The two of them looked ridiculously alike.

But after last night’s madness, I’d figured out their differences—tiny details but enough.

Rocco had a birth mark at the outer corner of his eye, like a teardrop, no bigger than a pinhead. It was barely visible unless you were up close. And he had a faded and pale scar across his chest, the kind that looked like it had been there for years.

“Want some?” he asked casually, holding up a small box with strawberry cupcakes inside.

That snapped me out of it immediately.

Grinning, I jumped up and wrapped my arms around his, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you, Renzo!”

Without missing a beat, I opened the box, scooped up some of the strawberry jam with my finger, and held it up to his lips.

“Here, try it. It’s really good!”

His eyes flickered, and I saw his throat move as he swallowed. Then, without a word, he opened his mouth and took my whole fingertip in, his lips warm and soft around it.

And just then…

“What the hell are you two doing?!” a furious voice exploded from the door.

Renzo was back.

And my finger—still in Rocco’s mouth.