Caught: A Novella

by Red Garnier

  She hadn’t been taken before. Ever. Any way would be amazing to her. But his words triggered a new, fresh bolt of arousal, and her head spun.

  Rushing to kick off her shoes, she edged barefooted to the king-size bed, her heart thundering.

  She could make out his body in the moonlight, beautiful and surreal as he pulled off his shirt. His eyes glowed in the darkness, full of promise, of male need, as he tossed it all aside.

  She lay back against his pillow. The fire between her legs spread to her entire body, her head, her toes.

  “Please don’t let me be dreaming,” she whispered, but then could not say any more.

  He was walking toward her practically nude—gloriously, lethally nude—except for a pair of crisp white trunks that hugged his lean hips. In that state of undress he advanced, his eyes smoldering. She couldn’t imagine a bolder, rawer image of masculinity than the one Cody presented. His body was all sinew, all steel, all hard. Everywhere.

  Her breath hitched when the bed dipped. In less than a second, her body was covered by the hot, heavy weight of man. Her man.

  Never had she felt something so erotic as the touch of his bare, naked flesh against hers. Her nerves were alive, singing to him. He studied her with dark, liquid eyes.

  “You okay?”

  She slipped her fingers into his hair and pulled him down so she could kiss him instead, and he responded with a low sound of need in his throat, his kiss so deep and fierce she felt devoured like the tastiest candy.

  He tasted of danger, darkness, heat.

  “Let me touch you,” he growled.

  Her heart leapt when his hands moved down to her navel. His fingers were gentle, but firm and strong, as he caressed, and then he shifted his strong hard body above hers to get a different angle and slowly inserted one finger where she’d grown achy and moist.

  Gasping as his finger entered, long and strong, Megan clamped her hands on his shoulders and bucked. “Cody.”

  “Ask me for more.”

  “More.”

  He pushed in deeper, so deep that she couldn’t seem to keep a whimper of pleasure in check. Paige and Zach could hear … but suddenly it didn’t matter.

  Today she had mistakenly kissed his brother. But oh, it seemed her life had all been leading to this one moment, this one night, in bed with Cody.

  He moved inside her while expertly twirling her clit with his thumb, and she arched back and tossed her head in abandon. “Oh, God, Cody.”

  He ground his palm against the tight little pearl, while pulling out, and pushing in, sending her heated body into oblivion.

  She whimpered softly each time he penetrated, aware that he was gazing down at her with piercing dark eyes that seemed to know her very soul.

  He cupped her breast with his free hand, causing her to moan because it felt so right, and her breast swelled ripe under his kneading.

  She turned her head into the pillow and closed her eyes, fighting the intimacy of it all, the swelling tenderness that washed over her as he touched her—as she moaned for him. Why had he broken down? Was it the adrenaline of the danger? Did he just need to feel alive? “Am I just any woman to you, Cody?” she whispered.

  She wanted to know—needed to know if this would only happen once.

  He stopped for a moment, and then his hard chest vibrated as he released a slow, rolling chuckle. “Wouldn’t that be easy,” he said wistfully.

  Reaching out, he tortured both her nipples with his thumbs—and she was ashamed at how fast and tightly they puckered. How sharply they throbbed. “In my mind I’ve only taken one woman, Meg, the woman I’ve wanted for years.”

  “You don’t have to say this. Don’t lie.”

  A palpable tension whipped through him at her words, and his entire face hardened. “This, here, now, is no lie. Out there, I have to. Here…” He signaled down at her, the bed, them, and shook his head, “no lie. Not in this bed with you.” He ducked his head to where her breasts awaited in sensory peak. “Waited too long for this to be a lie.” He took her nipple into his mouth, drowning it with a hot, ravenous kiss that left her gasping when he went onto the next. “Too damned long.”

  His long, wet kiss on that sensitive crest made her burn from both embarrassment and pleasure. Trembling down to the arches of her feet, she moved against him, stroking his cock between their bodies.

  He delved one hand between her legs and cupped her sex once more.

  His eyes glittered like a rascal’s as he explored, expertly fondling. Through the quivers and warmth taking her over, she sensed his dark gaze on her face, watching as he gently eased two fingers inside.

  “Ahhhh, Christ, so tight.” It was a reverent whisper, full of wonder as he stretched her.

  Her hands flew to the back of his head, clutching him tight as a marvelous pressure gathered inside her. “Cody.”

  He kissed her lips, his tongue probing her mouth in the same sinuous way his finger did. “Am I your first?” His eyes smoldered as he gazed down at her—expressing his desire in ways that couldn’t be put into words. “You are so tight. Am I your first lover, Meg?”

  “Yes.”

  His face went tight with emotion. “Who were you waiting for, Meg, tell me.”

  The fire was building, stronger and stronger, hotter and hotter, but his eyes were deep and dark and they were hungrier than she’d ever imagined. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. “You have no idea for how long I’ve wanted you.”

  “Fuck, I’m trying to be gentle, but I can’t—your words—the way you feel—the sounds you make—”

  Unable to tame the flutters his words caused, she sat up and rubbed against him, burning all over. “Don’t be gentle, Cody.”

  It was all the permission he needed. He growled and snaked an arm around her and flattened her against his side, pressing his mouth to her throat. “Then fit my body to yours.” His rough, ragged whisper fanned across her skin. “I feel you against me and know how good it will be. I can’t wait to be inside you.” She felt the moment his control was gone, his full passion unleashed, and it drove her feverish when he rolled off her to get fully naked.

  He quickly returned, then ran his hands up the outside of her legs, nudging them apart with his body, making room for him.

  His hips burrowed between her splayed thighs. Hard to soft. Heat to heat. “Ready?”

  Yes. Yes. She had been ready for years, forever.

  She widened herself for his entry and dropped her forehead on his arm, where, under some ungodly impulse, she placed a kiss on a hard, rounded bicep that left the salty taste of his skin on her lips. “Hard,” she whispered, “Take me.” Make me yours. Just yours.

  He remained as rigid as a granite slab above her. “It’ll hurt, I believe.”

  “Not as much as you keeping your distance.”

  “Jesus—hold on to me.” He rocked in a slow, powerful move that brought them close to joining, teasing her, taunting her with his nearness. He was panting hard now, as hard as she was. “I planned to make you beg … but you’re so ready, baby. I’m so ready … I’ve been ready even before I saw you naked and tied to my bed.”

  She tensed as she felt him grab his shaft and guide the engorged tip into her opening. He was enormous. Stretching … Opening …

  One heartbeat passed. Two. Then his hands clutched her waist. “Oh,” she gasped, her nails digging into his back as she absorbed the thick length of him.

  He impaled her fully. Yes. With a moan of frenetic desire she thrust her hips up and curled her legs around his hips, dragging him closer. Deeper. Thick, hard, thrusting, filling her with a wrenching relief of having his pulsing flesh deeply embedded inside her.

  He growled in relish, then seized her waist in his big hands and pinned her in place as he thrust again. Deeper.

  They moaned together. Megan tossed her head, swimming in pleasure, in wicked thrill, peering through her eyelashes and seeing his face ravaged with pleasure.

  He thrust again,
and this time she wildly reached behind him, grabbed his buttocks, and dug her fingers into his muscles—urging him for more. More!

  “Ahhhh, God,” he growled, and he thrust so hard her knees skewed sideways, bringing his balls to slap against her, for every hard inch of him to be sliding in her tight channel.

  “Ahhhh, God!” he cried again, undone as she twisted her head to the side in a frenzy.

  The complete look of passion in his face drove her wild. Cody was no more the cool detective, but Neanderthal caveman who’d just dragged his woman into the cave.

  Cords had popped out of his arms while a distinct buzz of sexual energy vibrated around him. His cock stretched her beyond capability with his need, sending a rush of renewed warmth through her system on each thrust.

  He set a pace, a primitive pace. A pace where Megan was licking his neck, rubbing his shoulders with her greedy hands, his lean, muscled back, as he took her. She rocked her hips to his, and he was growling, plunging, penetrating, losing his head in a way she’d never imagined Cody Nordstrom could.

  Then it happened. Her first orgasm with him, the first time she ever truly let go of her fears, her everything.

  It happened when she felt him stiffen over her, heatedly hiss in a groan, “come with me, baby,” and she did. Boy, she did! A sweeping climax crashed through her and she shuddered, and shuddered, and clung to him and shuddered. She heard him growl and his great big body trembled against hers, too. She felt heat explode inside her. Warmth, heat, heaven …

  At last.

  SIX

  Meg woke up disoriented, but within seconds, memories of last night rained over her like petals. She smiled to herself, stretched, and looked around. “Cody?”

  There was no sign of him, so she slipped into the bathroom to check her appearance and gaped at the first sight of her reflection, appalled that Cody could’ve seen her like this. Her normally reckless-looking blond curls looked even more tousled this particular morning, while her lipstick was smeared across her lips. But as she stared longer, she encountered something she had never seen before. An odd serenity in her eyes, like that of someone who knew a deep, satisfying secret.

  A woman’s secret.

  Heart clenching as she remembered their lovemaking, she smoothed her hair with her hands and carefully wiped away what remained of her lipstick. Out in the living room, she found Paige by the window, peering outside.

  “Good morning,” Meg said.

  “He’s gone,” Paige decreed, lips pursed. She pivoted around and planted her hands on her hips. “What happened? He didn’t look very well slept or too happy, either.”

  Meg blinked. What?

  Had this become an alternate universe? Last night had been surreal. Amazing. Cody should be grinning, ear to ear. And yet he might be unhappy because—his brother’s still out there, dummy.

  “So?” Paige asked. “What’s the story?”

  Meg’s cheeks felt toasty, so she whirled around and marched to the kitchen. It felt weird to admit to her friend that they had got it on in their home, and it embarrassed her. Especially when Cody didn’t look too happy about it. Damn him!!! Anger surfaced, and she pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and plopped down. “I guess you could say we may have fucked up.”

  Paige’s eyes widened, then she grinned. “Oh, so that’s what’s got him in a knot. Want some breakfast?”

  Meg rose. “I’m not very hungry, but if it’ll take my mind off what I did, yes.”

  Together they searched the cupboards and ’fridge; eggs, ham, bread, napkins, and place settings.

  “You know my mother always used to say to me, only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live,” Paige offered.

  “How eloquent,” she said as she raised her hand and discovered that Cody had left a love mark on the inside of her wrist. Something warm and mushy spread across her tummy.

  “Live with no excuses and love with no regrets,” Paige said as she whipped up two omelets.

  “Ahh.”

  “Life is a quest, and love a quarrel.”

  Meg’s eyebrows flew upward. “Wow. Your mother was full of sayings.”

  “She was.” Paige nodded, then frowned. “I think she just refused to talk about herself, so she quoted Hallmark.” She smirked, Slicing thinly through the ham.

  Meg was only partly present in the conversation. Her mind kept drifting to last night, the sensations. The total hotness of the man. The way he kissed me. The way he lost control …

  Her skin pricked in remembrance of his touch, and her sensitized nipples beaded under her sleep shirt.

  “So,” Paige said, clearly noticing, “I don’t think you got around to telling me what happened.”

  Urging herself to get busy, Megan slipped two slices of bread into the toaster, and when she opened her mouth to reply, swiftly closed it. She didn’t know what had happened. There was more to the man than his organized clothing attested to, and something about Ivan touching her, kissing her, had sent Cody’s instincts flaring to life.

  So would he have never kissed her if his dirty brother hadn’t first?

  The thought left her miserable, especially when he was gone this morning. Would it have killed him to leave a note?

  “Plates?” She offered them to Paige.

  “Please.” Paige finished the eggs, added a slice of ham and toast to each plate, and carried them with her to the kitchen table. “You know, he looked like shit this morning—but he was wearing a kick-ass tie.”

  Meg laughed softly and set two cups of coffee on the table. “Yeah, Cody and his ties.”

  “He left a message for you.”

  Her heart tumbled to her toes, then she jumped to her feet. “Where? Give it to me!” She snatched the envelope from Paige’s outstretched hands.

  She didn’t expect him to say something mushy and sweet. Cody wasn’t like that. But she didn’t expect what she read either.

  I’m sorry.

  C.

  At first, she did not react, only stood there, staring at his note. Then, she sat down, thinking.

  During the first week after his parents’ murder, there was a fury in Cody’s gaze. Rage. Megan had hoped that later, there would be understanding. His brother had murdered them: not Cody. But the day he left with his adopting relatives from Texas and he’d looked at her window from the car, she had seen a horrible emptiness in his eyes. No rage. No understanding. Only a terrifying emptiness.

  She had been haunted by that boy, had made thousands of wishes on his behalf. He had left a broken boy, but had returned a mended man. Though only Megan knew the depths of the little cracks he hid inside.

  Cody could be Mr. Hollywood to his colleagues. He smiled, and joked around, and ribbed, but the truth was, he didn’t allow anyone to get close and the tactic had worked for him.

  He was on his own.

  But last night, he had not been alone.

  Last night, he had let down his carefully constructed walls, and he had let her see how much he needed her. Wanted her. Never, in her wildest dreams, had she imagined a man could make love to her like Cody had.

  He had explored every inch, had gobbled up every inch, and his face, his breathing, the tension in his body, the fire in his eyes: she could not believe it didn’t mean something to him.

  After the sex they had spent hours awake in bed, talking lazily, looking at each other. His eyes had sparkled, there had been a tiny crinkle at the corner of each, a brilliant shine to them as they talked. They’d had a midnight snack and in between morsels he would find an excuse to nibble on her, and Megan had felt like a blushing bride must feel on her wedding night.

  No. He could not do this to her. He would not kick her back out to easily resume playing his Iceman role. She refused to let him, to waste another day waiting for him to realize he was “The One.” The only one. For her.

  She clenched the note in her hand and slammed it down on the table.

  “That bastard!”

  “Come again?”


  “That jerk! That insufferable buffoon!” She stood and marched to their bedroom, grabbing her purse, her shoes, Paige close at her heels.

  “What? Where are you going?”

  “To find that asshole and tell him exactly what I think!”

  Paige grabbed her elbow and squeezed. “Hey, calm down, he’s out catching a killer, you know, not having an affair. Zach’s with him. He’ll be fine!” When Meg remained unconvinced, Paige gave her a sympathetic pat on the back. “But I guess he’s no longer officially on vacation.”

  An idea flashed in her head. What if Cody ditched Zach because he wanted to face Ivan alone? What if the man she loved finally managed to get himself killed? Oh, God.

  Struck into motion by her mounting dread, Meg pounced into the master bedroom and rummaged through the drawers. “Does Zach have any extra police radios we could tune into? It might give me an idea of what they’re planning before he gets his stupid buffoon ass killed.” Before Paige could protest, Meg yanked one out and turned it on. “Bingo.”

  She was going to help them.

  Ivan wouldn’t kill her. She knew it with every bone in her body, that if Cody got in trouble, not even Zach Rivers stood a chance of manipulating Ivan like Megan did.

  Plus she was certain that now, after last night’s fireworks, Megan would be the only person on this planet who could truly distinguish between the twins if that devilish Ivan chose to wear a tie.

  Cody had once said he’d die for her.

  Well, Nordstrom, I’d die for you.

  She’d be the bait, if need be, but she was not standing by idly another day in her life. And if Cody had lied to Zach about the meeting at Marcel’s, then Megan was going to make sure Nordstrom was covered.

  Face your fears.

  Take charge.

  Protect him like he’s always protected you …

  “You’re not going, Megan Banks!” Paige stopped her at the door, hands on her nonexistent waist, her pretty face scrunched up into a scowl. “There’s a killer on the loose.”

  Megan nodded complacently. “Which is why you are staying here. I’ve got a man to catch.”

  * * *