by Marni Mann
He hadn’t told me anything at all actually.
Nerves had been attacking me all day. I had barely eaten a thing for breakfast or lunch, which wasn’t like me. Food was my friend—one of my best friends—but my stomach had been in knots. I was even more nervous while I was getting ready. After putting on my eye makeup, I realized the liner was too thick and washed it off. It took me three tries to get it right. If I hadn’t been locked into my outfit, I would have tried on my entire closet. Twice.
I was a mess—a hot, nervous, anxious mess.
And I felt even wobblier as I took the final steps toward the restaurant. I might have been freezing on the outside, but inside, I was sweating profusely. I wasn’t worried about our chemistry. We seemed to have plenty of that already, sexually anyway. I was worried about what it would be like to finally see his face, to feel his skin, and to stare into his deep gray eyes.
“Brea…”
The sound of Trapper’s voice startled me, causing me to stop at the mouth of the alley that ran between the restaurant and the building adjacent.
He gripped my waist from behind me and pressed his lips against the back of my neck. My body immediately filled with the most intense passion. I couldn’t see him; I could only feel him. And God didn’t he feel good.
“I tried to picture what you would look like…” His touch was deeper, more demanding than it had been at the party. “But I wasn’t even close. You’re so much more gorgeous than I thought.” His breath warmed my neck like there was fire in his words.
“And your voice, Trapper, is just the way I remember it.” I wrapped my hands over his to take in more of his heat. I felt the roughness on his fingers, and it reminded me of his strength. “Are we going to go inside?”
“Not yet.”
I tried to move, but he wouldn’t let me. “Then let me turn around, so I can see you.”
“You’re not getting that yet either.” He pushed his chest against my back and tightened his grip around my stomach. Then he lifted me off my feet. “Hang on to my arms.”
I did as he said, clinging to the muscles circled around me, as he moved me into the alley. When we reached the side of the building, I shoved my palms into the brick, and he pressed even more of his body against mine. Even through my jeans, I could feel how hard he was.
“Now, we’re alone.” He unwound my scarf and kissed just under my ear. “I’ve been thinking about this spot for days.” He dipped under my jacket, and the heat from his skin penetrated through the thin fabric. He began running his fingers over my stomach and up my sides. “And this spot…”
“Trapper,” I moaned, pushing my body into him, a cloud of white steam coming from my parted lips. I couldn’t feel the cold anymore. Or the wind. Or the ice under my feet.
“Yes,” he hissed. “That’s the sound I’ve been wanting to hear.” He kissed up to my earlobe and around my neck to the other side.
From where he stood and by the way he positioned his face, the only things I could see were his dark jacket and his thick scruff.
“I’ve been dreaming about those fucking moans.”
I was tingling—everywhere. My breath hitched each time I tried to fill my lungs. “I’ve been dreaming about seeing your face.”
“How does your body react when you see it in your dreams?”
My eyes closed, and I leaned my head into his chest. “I get turned on.”
“How wet do you get, Brea? Would your pussy be dripping if I touched it with my hand?”
So forward, so direct, so sexual. If he only reached a bit lower, he’d know I was already a pool of wetness.
“Yesssss.” My response sounded more like a moan, but I knew he understood.
I needed to see him, to feel him—his bare skin on mine, his tongue dipping into my mouth. No more imagining my hands were his.
When I tried to turn around, he stopped me again.
“Not yet,” he said.
“Not…yet?”
“When I rip off the mask, you’ll get a whole lot more of me. But not yet. I like how it feels just like this.”
He was holding me back from something I wanted, something I’d been craving for days. I could barely contain the desire that was pulsing through me, and now, he was telling me I needed to wait a bit longer.
Could I?
I hated this…and oh, did I love it at the same time.
I reached behind my head, expecting him to stop me from touching him. But he didn’t. His hands stayed clear of mine, so I slowly began to feel my way around. His hair was shaved short on the sides and lengthy on the top, the long strands gelled toward the back of his head. As I moved down his cheeks, his scruff scratched my fingertips. The roughness made me wetter…and louder.
“It doesn’t sound like you need to see my face at all,” he mumbled as his fingers sank into me. “Doesn’t feel that way either.”
I wanted to take his face in my hands and just stare at him. At the same time, the mystery of it all—of him—was sexy as hell. And I knew my body expressed that as much as my sounds did.
“Need to, no,” I said.
His hand was on my ribs, teasing the spot just below my breast. The other was curved around my hip, holding me against his cock.
“But I want to.”
“I want you to feel my whiskers scratching the inside of your soft thighs as I eat my way to your pussy.”
Oh my God.
I ran my fingers over his lips, and he wrapped them around my thumb. He flicked it with his tongue, circled around my nail, and lapped the back side. He used fast, strong movements. I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel if he were doing that to my clit.
“Trapper,” I breathed. “I need more of you.” I pulled my thumb out of his mouth and brushed it over his nose and toward his eyes just as he buried his lips in my neck.
My nipples were so hard, they ached. My back was fully pressed against him, and I felt the hardness of his muscles and the straining of his cock, all of which I wanted to devour. His breathing told me he wanted to do the same. It was a beautiful sound.
“Close your eyes, Brea.”
It was like he had heard the build and anticipation and knew I was about to explode. I quickly closed them, licking the inside of my lips.
“Now, keep them closed, and slowly turn around.”
Trapper
Brea stood in front of me, completely blind with her eyes closed, so trusting and vulnerable. It made my fucking dick pound against the inside of my jeans. This gorgeous woman wanted me.
I wanted her even more.
Now that her mask was off, I took the time to really read her face. She wasn’t a simple hand at all; Brea was complex and layered. I felt her despair and her darkness. I also felt her sensuality and her light.
That was what drew me to her.
Could she be the escape I found in poker, the silence I found in cards?
It felt that way now as I held her in my hands. There was no deep craving for the cards, no fiending for the felt.
I could tell she was feeling something, too, and the anticipation of my next move was making her wet as hell. Her body had been responding from the minute I touched her. Her moans had filled my ears with the most arousing sound. Her ass had pushed against my cock and ridden it through my pants. A few more swipes from those delicious cheeks, and I would have stripped her down in this alley and thrust right inside her. That was when I knew it was time to turn her around, time to show her my face and let my eyes do the talking.
I slid my hands up her sides and pulled her closer to me. She opened her mouth, her chest rising, as she took a breath. I kissed her then, when she was sucking in air, so she would suck in mine instead. My lips surrounded hers, and she pressed her body fully against mine. As my tongue circled, I could almost taste her need, a need that wasn’t even close to being satisfied.
Everything about her grew hotter as I kissed her. She tasted of cinnamon and lust, flavors I wanted to swallow and savor all night. I
couldn’t bring her into the restaurant and sit through a meal when it was her pussy I clearly wanted to eat.
I had to get her out of here. I had to get her naked.
I fucking had to feel the warmth of her cunt and all its wetness.
I let her mouth go and pressed my forehead to hers. She was breathing just as hard, just as fast, gripping my shirt like I was trying to run away.
“Brea…” I stared into that beautiful face with her dark eyelids and her lips that had once been glossy tonight. Now, I was sure all that gloss was on me. I licked my mouth, taking more of her taste onto my tongue.
“Yes?” It was such a soft sound yet so sexy.
I held her waist and took a step back, putting some distance between us, so she could finally see the face that went with the hands. “Open your eyes.”
Brea
Open your eyes, Brea.
My body was screaming for him. It felt like I was on the verge of an orgasm, and just one more flick of his powerful tongue would send me into a shuddering release. I couldn’t take this tease for another second.
Open your eyes, Brea.
But he had read my thoughts—again. I felt myself smile as I coached myself to open my lids. Heavy doses of fear and excitement twisted inside my stomach. I knew he’d be waiting to see what I thought of him. I didn’t want to appear too blown away. No man needed his ego boosted that much. Still, I knew however he looked was going to be an image of perfection.
I opened my eyes…slowly.
I blinked, getting used to the low light, and tried to focus. I waited for my eyes to adjust and blinked again.
The tingle between my legs, the heat that rose in my chest—everything came to a painful immediate halt.
And that pain replaced every ecstatic sensation.
I clamped my hand over my mouth to muffle the screams. “Whaaaaat?” I didn’t know what to ask. What to say. What to think. I wanted to hit him and kiss him. I wanted to shout, and I wanted to cry. “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t understand…”
I felt myself panting, gasping for air, like I couldn’t fill my lungs fast enough, yet it felt like I wasn’t breathing at all. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. Who I was looking at. It was definitely him. All the features I’d memorized. His intensely beautiful sharp gray eyes, his long oval face, a small but well-defined nose. Lips that were soft, gentle, and full, now surrounded by several days’ worth of scruff.
It was him.
He was here.
“Cody…” I whispered.
My Cody.
I didn’t know how this was possible. He had been hit by a car. He hadn’t survived the accident. I knew he hadn’t. I’d gone to the morgue; I’d identified his body. I’d watched his casket get lowered into the ground. I’d sprinkled rose petals on top of it. I’d watched the shovels of dirt cover it. I’d run my fingers over his gravestone, tracing the letters of his name, the date of his death. I’d hugged it. I’d hugged it and sobbed.
I’d fucking screamed for him until I no longer had a voice.
And then I’d mourned.
“No, Brea. Trapper. It’s Trapper.”
“No…it’s Cody.”
“Who the hell is Cody?”
Was this some sort of sick joke?
Of course he hadn’t come back from the dead. I knew that wasn’t possible. And I knew what I was seeing was nothing more than a good mask and some incredibly well-done makeup. He must be a criminal from one of Cody’s old cases, someone who had gotten away or someone who had recently been released. They were somehow trying to get even because Cody had put them away.
I’d gone into this blind. But he hadn’t. He knew who I was…
“When I rip off the mask, you’ll get a whole lot more of me. But not yet. I like how it feels just like this.”
I reached forward and rubbed my fingers over his cheeks, under his eyes, across his mouth. “It’s not a mask,” I whispered. When I flipped my hand over, there wasn’t anything on my fingertips. “Or makeup…” Tears were falling from my eyes so fast, it was making everything blurry.
He grabbed my hands and held them against his chest. “Of course I’m not wearing a mask or makeup.” His gray eyes searched mine. The ones I had stared into for years. The ones I had loved. “This is me.”
“You…” My nose was running. I could taste eyeliner on my lips. My legs were shaking so hard, my feet felt like they were going to give out. If he wasn’t wearing a mask, then that could only mean one thing. “But it can’t be you. You’re dead.”
“Dead? Brea, I’m not dead.”
I pushed him away, but he didn’t move. He did release my hands, so I wrapped them around me, balling my fingers into fists.
“Why?” I screamed. “Why would you do this to me, Cody? Why would you put me through all this? Make me believe this? Hurt me this bad?”
He took a step closer. “Come here.”
I shifted to the side to put more space between us.
“Trapper. My name is Trapper, Brea. I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“What I’m talking about?” I was staring at my dead—or undead or somehow survived—boyfriend in the face, and he didn’t know what I was talking about. “I think I’m going to be sick.” I turned my face away from him and bent over, dry-heaving onto the pavement. Nothing came out. My stomach was empty. I hadn’t eaten today because I’d been so nervous about our date.
“Brea, let me—”
“Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me.” I took a step toward the sidewalk.
My Cody wouldn’t have done this to me. He wouldn’t have left me. He wouldn’t have made me believe for almost two years that he was dead. The man standing in front of me had hurt me, and I had to get away from him.
He gripped the upper part of my arm when I tried to leave, and the tears started pouring down even harder.
“I don’t know who Cody is. You need to believe me.”
I didn’t believe him. I didn’t really know what I believed. But I couldn’t breathe. I needed air. I needed to find air, air that didn’t have him in it.
“Let me go.”
As I twisted out of his grip, he pulled me closer.
“No!” I shouted. “Stop! Just let me go.”
He held me even tighter. “Look at me, Brea.”
I kept my back to him, unable to look at his face for another second.
“I can’t—”
“Look at me.” His voice was so stern. “I’m not letting you go until you look at me.”
I tried pulling myself free, but he wouldn’t budge. He wasn’t giving me a choice. I had to look at him. I slowly glanced behind me, and our eyes connected. His were full of pain—pain like when we had fought about how much he worked, like when his father was diagnosed with cancer, like when I told him our relationship wasn’t working.
“Why did you come back, Cody? I believed, this whole time, you were dead. So, why are you here? Why now?”
His mouth opened, his stare bouncing between my eyes. Back and forth. Again and again. “I—”
I bent over once more, the pain in my stomach hitting me again so suddenly. Nothing came out when I gagged. His hands rubbed the middle of my back as I stayed hunched over, and it gave me just the amount of time and space I needed to get away. A few steps, and I was out onto the sidewalk, running between the people who were walking around me.
“Brea…” I heard from behind me. “Brea, don’t leave.”
I pushed my way down the pavement, saw the lights from an available taxi, and threw myself into the backseat.
“Brea, wait! I’m not—”
I slammed the door and wrapped my arms around my stomach. “Drive! Now!”
“Where to, miss?”
“Anywhere.” I bent over and rocked, trying to ease the pain. “Just get me far away from here.”
Trapper
What the fuck just happened?
I wanted Brea to open her
eyes in that alley, wrap her arms around my neck, and give me that dangerous mouth of hers. But she took one look at me and freaked the hell out. She kept calling me Cody. I had no idea who she was talking about.
She didn’t listen when I told her I didn’t know who he was and that I wasn’t him. She didn’t listen when I said my name again and again. And she didn’t listen when I tried to stop her from running. She just kept going until she was too far away for me to catch her.
Her taxi was now driving away, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. My hands clenched together, remembering what it felt like to have her between them. All that was left now in her place were a hell of a lot of questions.
How had everything gone so wrong?
She was accusing me of something…of being dead?
Seeing my face for the first time had caused this. I was used to women screaming when they looked into my eyes, but it was for an entirely different reason. None of them had ever thrown up or cried or turned her head so that she wouldn’t have to look at me until I demanded it from her. But Brea did.
Whoever Cody was, it was his face she saw. His face caused her reaction.
How much of a resemblance could there possibly be?
“Excuse me,” a woman said, pushing past me as she walked by.
I hadn’t moved, hadn’t stopped staring at the empty spot where the taxi was parked before it drove off.
I didn’t know why the hell I was still standing there. She wasn’t coming back. She wasn’t calling my phone or texting me to explain why she had taken off. She was gone. And I needed to find her.
But there was something else I needed to do first.
Brea
Tucked in the backseat of the taxi while the driver took me to Frankie’s, I searched through my purse to find my phone. When I had it, I clicked on Net’s number.
“Hey,” I said as he picked up, “I really need your help.” Getting answers was the only thing that would ease the throbbing pain inside my chest.
“Don’t tell me it’s for your boss’s boyfriend again. That Derek Block dude have another crazy ex you need to get info on?”