His hands slipped around my waist, pulling me to him without a second thought, strong and confident. I closed my eyes, waiting for him, unsure if he was hesitating as a request for permission or if silence was good enough. It wasn’t until that instant when I realized I wanted Taylor to kiss me, but the moment didn’t feel right, he didn’t feel right, and that alone was enough disappointment to ruin everything we’d accomplished so far.

Taylor’s lips were warm and soft, exactly like I’d imagined. His tongue was in total control, caressing the inside of my mouth. His hand touched my cheek, his thumb gently running along my jawline and down the side of my neck, but it didn’t feel like before.

His mouth worked against mine—amazing, perfect—in a way that would make any woman beg for more. He was fucking me with his mouth before we were anywhere near a bedroom. He was telling me with each soft flick of his tongue that he didn’t just want me but needed me. All the while, he was tugging at my clothes as if the kiss wasn’t enough.

Nothing. I felt absolutely nothing.

The disenchantment was so overpowering, so disgusting, that I recoiled.

Taylor was still committed to the kiss, slow to recognize me pushing against his shoulders. I lowered my chin, pulling away from him. Then I saw Shea, the bartender, standing still behind the bar, watching us in utter confusion and disgust. Realizing I’d just proven my town-whore status after years of trying to buck the label, I did the only thing left to do. I shoved Taylor away and then slapped the shit out of him.

“What the fucking fuck?” I heard Taylor’s voice yell, but he hadn’t spoken.

“Holy ginger-licker!” Zeke said.

I turned toward Zeke’s voice. Taylor was standing next to him. The other Taylor was less than a foot from my face, and in reaction, my upper body jerked back, nearly sending me off the stool to the floor.

Taylor Number Two rushed behind me, interrupting my fall backward. I yanked away from him. I looked from left to right, as if I were watching a tennis match, in total disbelief.

“Falyn,” Taylor said through his teeth, “I see you’ve met my brother Tyler.”

“Tyler?” I asked, wiping his lips from my mouth.

“My twin brother,” Taylor clarified.

Tyler wasn’t exactly happy either. “You know her?” he asked, rubbing the bright red handprint on his cheek.

“Yeah,” Taylor said, taking a step toward his doppelgänger. “Tyler, meet Falyn.”

The moment my name came out of Taylor’s mouth, things began to happen very fast. Tyler looked at me, and Taylor swung, his fist catching his twin square on the same cheek I’d already assaulted. Both men fell to the ground, a blur of punching and grabbing.