Prologue

Asher

EZRA’S BREATHING IS ragged under me, the kind that fills the whole room, bouncing off the cinder‑block walls of the dorm like a second heartbeat.

“Jesus, Ash…” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face, breath shuddering out of him. “This is insane—your cock feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah,” I manage, just as breathless, my voice coming out rougher than I expect. “Your hole’s amazing.”

The desk lamp throws a crooked circle of light across the floor, catching the edge of a spilled drink and the heel of someone’s abandoned sneaker. Everything about the room feels slightly off‑balance, like the night tipped too far in one direction and now none of us are sure how to steady it again.

Because there are exactly three things I never expected over the last couple of weeks.

First: that Ezra and I would end up in our dorm room, fucking at two in the morning, adrenaline still buzzing through both of us, the two of us trying to untangle how a harmless idea managed to spiral into something this complicated.

Second—and this is the part that still feels surreal—Ezra isn’t just some random guy whose life got tangled up with mine during a stupid late‑night decision.

Ezra Hale is my twin brother.

Same face. Same height. Same stubborn streak that’s gotten us both into trouble more times than either of us would ever admit out loud.

Which means whatever mess we’ve created tonight isn’t just awkward.

It’s family.

And family, in my experience, has a way of making even the smallest mistake feel impossible to walk back.

“Ash—fuck me harder,” he moans, the words breaking out of him between breaths.

“You got it, bro,” I shoot back, already driving forward harder, the challenge in his voice hitting that same reckless nerve it always does.

And the third thing.

“You guys are so fucking hot,” a voice says from somewhere off to the side, breathless and a little disbelieving, like he’s still processing what he walked into.