Connor watched them from the porch, working on his third hard lemonade. His eyes kept drifting, never settling, sliding from Sydney's bare legs to the sway of Cindy's ass as she kicked water balloons off the grass. The way the twins moved—so in sync, so aware of each other—put an itch in the back of his throat.

Cindy glanced up, caught her dad looking, and laughed. "You staring at our tits, old man?"

Sydney barked a laugh and flopped back onto the deck, one arm behind her head, the other hand absentmindedly massaging her breast through the wet fabric.

Connor shrugged and didn't look away. "What do you expect?"

Cindy plopped down beside her sister, still giggling. "Gross, Dad." But she didn't sound mad, and she didn't stop spreading her legs. She leaned over Sydney, wiping at the cake smear with her thumb, then licked it clean in one long, showy stroke.

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