He’d only been out there a few seconds, when he felt a pair of warm hands wrap around his waist. His blonde hair fell into his eyes as he tried to twist around, but whoever had grabbed him was playing games, ducking and giggling to keep out of sight. The hands slipped down a bit lower, squeezing onto his hips, before a beautiful woman finally popped up in front of him.
“Surprise!” she squealed.
“Uh...yeah. It certainly is.”
Logan’s eyes widened in spite of themselves, and he made a concerted effort not to look anywhere beneath her chin. Apparently, clubs in Cleveland were clothing optional. Her slender body was wrapped in what looked like a chainmail bikini that drifted down into a gauzy scarf that wrapped once or twice around her hips before vanishing into thin air. Aside from triggering all sort of adolescent Princess Leia fantasies, Logan was intrigued.
He held out his hand, swaying drunkenly as he tried to make a regular introduction. But before he could say a word, she jumped up on her toes and planted a kiss right on his lips.
Before he could recover from that—she slapped him. Hard.
“The kiss is for the other night.” She folded her arms across her chest, eyes glittering malevolently in the darkness. “The slap is for the next morning.”
Logan raised his hand to his cheek in a daze, unable to figure out which extreme had thrown him more. On face value, he assumed the girl must simply be crazy. Then he heard his brother’s distant laugh, and the truth of what was happening slowly dawned on him.
“Oh—miss, this isn’t what you think.” He pointed desperately behind him to where Dylan was dancing, sandwiched between two gyrating women. “You’re confusing me with my brother. My twin brother, actually. He’s the one you—”
Another slap. This one was even harder than the first.
“Really?” Her eyebrows lifted dangerously up into her hair, making her look like some kind of murderous, sci-fi pixie. “Your twin brother?”
Logan took a discreet step back, eyeing her hands warily. “Yeah, I know it sounds a little hard to believe—”
“You don’t need excuses, baby.” He let out a quiet gasp as her hand flew out once more, this time, grabbing him right between the legs. “I just wanted you to call me, is all.”
One second, her fingers were on top of his pants. The next, they had slipped somehow inside. He let out another gasp and his spine stiffened in surprise, but between the copious amounts of booze and the shock of it all, he found himself quite unable to move. Her lips tickled his ears as she gave him a little squeeze, stretching up on her toes with a smile.
“You know where to find me. We can pick up right where we left off...”
Before he could say a single word, she vanished into the crowd—leaving him feeling anxious, confused, and slightly aroused all at the same time. He froze where he stood, eyes scanning the darkness as he tried to recover the ability to speak. When he came up empty, he stumbled back through the crowd, pushing his way through the sweaty patrons to grab his brother roughly by the shoulder—pulling him away from his adoring harem.
“I’m leaving. Catch you the next time I’m in Cleveland.”
He was gone before his brother could stop him, pushing his way through a sea of drunken faces before he finally made it to the door. A cloud of whiskey followed him as his feet finally hit the pavement, dissipating quickly in the chilly night air. It was the middle of July, but no one had told Cleveland. His thin shirt and Miami temperament offered little protection as he folded his arms tightly across his chest, shivering in the cold.
Well, you tried. You met him—and you tried. Just call him and keep in contact.
With a heavy heart, he lifted a hand to hail down a taxi. Only to have it immediately swatted out of the air as Dylan raced up behind him, reeking of women and booze.
“Why the hell are you leaving?” he asked with genuine concern, waving away a taxi that had been starting to pull over as he angled Logan purposefully away from the street. “I thought we were having a good time.”
“We were.” Logan pulled himself free. “Before I got accosted and groped by some dark cosplay princess who thought I was you.”
Dylan’s face lightened in understanding, then froze, thinking hard.
“...Asian?”
Logan gritted his teeth, his jaw turning to chiseled stone. “No.”
His brother nodded wisely. “Lexi, then. Don’t worry, she’s totally harmless.” Logan raised his eyebrows, and he quickly amended, “Okay—she’s mostly harmless. What did she want anyway? Did she give you a message for me?”
Logan’s eyes sparkled with malice, as he cocked his head with a dangerous smile.
“Oh—we didn’t get that far. But yeah, she did give me a message.”
Without a second’s pause, he took a step forward and slapped his brother right across the face. There was a sharp crack as Dylan’s hair whipped across his forehead, only partially hiding the angry red welt rising up beneath.
Dylan brought a hand up to his cheek, wincing apologetically. “Yeah, that sounds like Lexi—”