by Leigh, Lora
He bent over, feeling their breaths mingle, thinking this was so so goddamned wrong, even if Cody wanted her like nobody else in their lives would want her.
With an unsteady hand, he reached out and ran the pad of his thumb across her lower lip, and his heart started to pound as he tested the soft, silken puffiness of that lip.
If only she weren’t so pretty, her lips so soft, so pink …
He lowered his mouth to graze hers, softly, so that she would not wake, murmuring, “This never happened, Meg.”
But it had, it was happening.
Just a graze.
Though he wanted so much more he felt like yelling down the damned hotel until she gave all of herself up to him. Feeling a growl trapped in his throat, he brushed her lips one last time, softly, igniting the hunger inside him so badly it took an inhuman effort to pull back, get up without waking her, and step away. “Ahh, shit!”
Storming across the room, he escaped through the connecting door, breathing hard as he bolted the lock behind him.
He needed much more than a cold shower.
But he couldn’t have what he wanted.
So the cold shower would have to do.
* * *
She woke up afraid.
A sense of being watched crept over her again. Her bones felt cold.
Afraid she was becoming paranoid, Megan hugged the couch pillow tight to her chest and groggily glanced around the hotel room. Her mind flashed to Cody, honing in on his smile. His blue eyes that made her think of Hawaii when they sparkled warmly like that. Where was he?
She set the pillow down and stood, spotting him by the door.
She smiled at him, feeling herself blush. “Hey,” she said sleepily. He had not moved an inch, was still and silent. “What time is it?” She glanced at the clock on the nightstand and saw it was 4:10 A.M. “So early. Don’t you sleep?”
She saw a smile form on his lips, and it filled her with pleasure, but she wanted more than smiles. Wanted the clean, cool forest scent of his hair filling her lungs.
Watching her strangely, he ran his fingers down his tie as though its weight was a burden on his chest. As she watched his hands, she could only think of how rough his fingertips were and how they would feel if they ever reached the tender parts of her skin.
He took a step forward, moving differently, not as stealthily as he normally did. But slowly. Very, eerily slowly. Megan held her breath, her head swimming with anticipation. The shadows pulsed, the breath of each somehow synchronized to begin when the other ended.
“I want you,” he said gruffly.
Her heart skipped, and for a moment she could only stare while holding her breath, unsure she’d heard right.
“I … want you,” she hastily returned, her heart hammering. This is it, a part of her screamed in excitement, while another could not believe it, couldn’t give credit to this happening.
Cody wants me, Cody wants me, he really wants me!
He reached out and pulled her close, and his scent was different. Her nose twitched as she attempted to place the strange scent, struggling to find the essence of Cody in it, but it was difficult to retain an idea when he started stroking her rump. Shock raced through her system, and then, slow as ice melting, she relaxed against him and moaned. “Please,” she murmured. “Please kiss me … please…” she heard herself say.
He held her face and kissed her while pushing his fingers deep into her hair, his tongue rough and hungry. His taste … so unexpected. She opened her eyes, confused, but he groaned and the sound undid her, so she closed them once more and let him sweep her away. Something inside of her whispered, this can’t be. He’s stronger than this. You’ll wake up soon, and he’ll be in the other room, and you’ll be alone.
But she silenced that voice with a moan of pleasure, another whispered “please” as she sank her nails into his shoulders and rocked against him.
Way in the back of her mind, she heard footfalls in the adjoining room, then a bang on the door, followed by a crash as the door thrust open. And still Cody deepened the kiss, as though proving to her that nothing would tear him apart from her.
Megan shuddered wantonly. His attention had been so desired, so cherished, she wanted to beat whoever was coming in—get lost in Cody’s kiss. But she couldn’t. The intruder made Cody stop kissing her, and suddenly he instead wrapped his arms around her windpipe. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” he told the one who’d broken through the door, in a voice so cold, Megan felt a chill down to her ankles. Was Cody threatening to throttle her?
Then she saw that the man by the door was Ivan. And he was … bare-chested. Wearing only something like checkered sleep pants. His hair was wet, his chest gleaming with moisture. “You’re not me,” he growled, in a voice so deadly, Megan feared for Cody’s life. But for a full second, she became riveted by Ivan’s phisique.
He looked … muscular.
Too muscular.
When she’d pressed against him right now, Cody didn’t feel as hard as Ivan looked as he walked over. And he moved, wow, like a killer. Like a trained killer.
Goodness but jail had done him wrong. They had made him into a killing machine, and he had eyes only for Cody. Murdering blue eyes.
Noticing that his hold on her throat had loosened, Megan pushed him aside. “Cody, run! Go get your gun!”
But before Cody could move, Ivan knocked him to his knees and pushed him to the ground. “Son of a bitch,” he hissed, grabbing his hair and slamming his forehead on the carpet. “Having fun in my closet? Huh? Having fun watching her while you play with my fucking ties?” He tightened the tie on his neck with a yank and Cody began choking.
Panicked, Megan didn’t register what Ivan was saying, only registered what she saw: Cody being killed by his tie, just like his colleagues joked he would.
She had to do something. She lunged at wet, bare-chested Ivan and pummeled his ribs so hard he turned around to face her with a look of utter annoyance, and when he did, she launched a kung fu kick in the air, slamming it right in his nuts. He bowled over with a yell.
Megan twisted around and reached for Cody on the floor, who seized the moment and punched Ivan one, two, three times, then broke into a run. She was about to follow when a bloodied Ivan caught her hand and pulled her back with a growl of displeasure. She was about to hit him again when he snarled, “Don’t … Even … Think it!”
She blinked, registering the glimmering blue eyes that flashed pure anger at her. Long-lashed blue eyes. Cody’s blue eyes. Cody’s … wet chest?
“THAT SICK FUCK WITH THE TIE”—he gritted through his teeth as he tried to stand, still bent over from the pain—“WAS NOT”—he put both his hands on his knees, dragging in hard breaths—“ME.”
FIVE
Megan wasn’t talking.
Her throat was clogged with emotion and she doubted she could take any more of this crap for much longer. When Cody had grabbed her stuff back at the hotel, haphazardly put on a suit, but not a tie, and informed her that they were going to Zach’s house, she didn’t protest.
When they arrived and a fussy Paige brought towels and clean sheets for the guest bedroom, Megan didn’t offer anything.
And when Zach came in and discussed what had happened with Cody, Megan only sat there and listened, still dazed about it all.
Nordstrom and Zach just had to be the best-looking pair of homicide detectives the force had ever seen. Paired with a group of men that were neither tall, nor short, nor fat, nor slender, the tall, athletic hunks were definitely a standout.
But Cody … how could she have mistaken him for his twin? The man she loved—of whom she should know every mark, every flaw. And she didn’t. Her mind was already screwed up.
She wanted him so much she had wanted to believe that it was him, kissing her.
“Here,” Paige whispered, handing her a cup of tea.
Megan took a slow sip and nodded her thanks. They sat in the
living room of her friend’s spacious apartment, a warehouse loft that Zach had made into his home and Paige had comfortably moved right into when he proposed.
Megan had met her only a couple of years ago, but had felt like Paige was one of the best friends she’d ever had. She seemed to read right into her.
“Want to talk about it?” her friend asked softly.
She shook her head. Cody wouldn’t look at her. He hadn’t said a word to her. Meg couldn’t bring herself to look at him, either. She felt so dirty, so ashamed.
“So I guess the plan wasn’t a big hit, huh?” Paige tried, sad-eyed.
Meg shrugged, because she figured she had to respond to that and didn’t feel like talking much.
“Who knows,” Paige reached out and patted her knee, “maybe you’ll get lucky tonight sharing a room?”
“His brother kissed me” Meg blurted.
Paige blinked, and Meg set the teacup on the coffee table and rose, ready to head for the bedroom even though she doubted she’d catch much sleep.
“I can get the murderer to kiss me but not the cop.”
* * *
The disgusting image of Ivan and Meg kissing was permanently embedded in Cody’s brain.
Megan in his brother’s arms, Megan moaning as she kissed him.
If Ivan had wanted payback for his years doing time at the Maricopa County Jail, then he’d succeeded. Cody was insanely, inhumanly jealous. He’d wanted not only to kill, but to die.
After updating Zach on the recent events, Cody made his way to the guest bedroom, the last door down the hall, where Megan had disappeared only moments ago.
He didn’t know what he’d say to her, or do. Fact was, he planned to sit there and do nothing.
Nothing but keep his brother away from her until Cody managed to get his hands on the bastard tomorrow.
The door stood slightly ajar. Uncertain if she was asleep, he parted it wider and saw that the lamps were on, and a pool of light illuminated the snowy white bedsheets.
Megan sat there, gazing at the door, as if … waiting.
He felt a trickle of blood sliding down his swollen lips. His eye had already started to swell, and his ribcage stung like a sonofabitch. But none of that hurt as much as watching her being kissed … by a man that was not him.
Rage spread through his system like a blazing torch.
He could use his twin as a punching bag. Good God, he’d kill him this time, do what the state hadn’t been able to do. Ivan wasn’t a minor now, and he would pay for this. For everything.
As she gazed up at him from the bed, her eyes were teary, but less than an hour ago, they had been watered with desire. Desire for my murdering brother.
His fingers curled into his palms and tightened. He should back away, to any other room but this one.
No. He couldn’t leave her. Suddenly, he noticed the outline of her nipples under her thin sleep shirt and became hard as a rock. She wore no bra now … her beautiful breasts were there to hold, to touch, to kiss …
His heart pumped steadily as she stood uncertainly, staring at him, while Cody didn’t know what to do with himself; he had never imagined he could ever love someone so much, or feel so powerless when he was with them.
He took an involuntary step closer to her, and as he reached out to cup her face in his hands, he stopped himself. “You okay?”
A sob caught in her throat and her face came down in disappointment and embarrassment.
During the evening she had been frequently wiping her mouth, and sometimes, she whimpered softly as though he’d bitten her. Desire and jealousy ricocheted within the walls of his body, painful in their force.
That should have been me … kissing her … biting her sweet lips …
Breathing hard, he suppressed the urge to smash her against him and hug her as hard as he could. To kiss her like his brother had, do more to her, do everything to her.
“I thought it was you!” she burst out, weakly hitting his chest with her fists. Tears welled in her eyes, her words striking him where it hurt. “I thought it was you, you bastard.” Tears spilled one after the other, and she looked so fragile and alone he wanted to take his gun and just shoot himself with it. “Where did you go? Why did you leave?”
His harsh breaths made it difficult for him to speak, to explain to her. No words could explain. “I needed to get away.” His voice was low and raspy, his hands hanging at his sides as he allowed her to vent.
“Why? Why, Cody! Am I that repulsive?”
His heart squeezed painfully. “No.”
She began shaking her head, furiously wiping the streaming tears from her lovely pink cheeks. “Didn’t you hear what I told him, Cody?”
He shook his head, barely holding his shit together, trembling with the sheer and utter agony of seeing the woman he loved cry like this.
He had heard voices, had been locked in his room, had been too panicked to make sense of what those voices were saying. Now, he stood there, noticing the flush creeping up her neck and cheeks, fearing that he was about to find out.
“I told him ‘please’,” she whispered, covering her mouth on a sob. “I told him to please, please kiss me! I begged, Cody, I would have kept on begging!”
She was killing him with every tear, with every word. He shook his head, his voice uneven, his throat tight. “I’m no good for you, Meg.”
She started storming away, but impulsively he caught her before she could take a step. Making a small sound of grief, she fought at first, then she swallowed a sob and let him reel her back into his arms. “Shh. Just listen to me,” he murmured. “I’m no. Good. For you. Do you understand me?”
She squirmed in his hold. “Let go of me.”
“No.” He started hugging her, his arms enveloping her whole.
“Let go of me! I hate you!”
He should listen to her. He knew he should listen, but instead he hugged her tighter, feeling her squirm against him, closing his eyes to savor this one moment with Megan Banks in his arms.
What she’d said had left him flabbergasted. She’d begged for his kiss. It left him shocked, feeling like he should throw caution to the wind and—kiss her. Make her yours. Yours. She’s yours. Don’t make her beg. Never make her beg.
“I hate myself, too, Meg,” he whispered hotly as he seized her waist. “It’s all my fault. Everything. But I still think I should kiss you, so that there will never be a doubt in your mind when it’s me.”
A shudder coursed through her, but she shook her head. “But you won’t. You never do.”
He pressed the front of his body against hers, so she could feel everything—everything. His hardness. His desire.
He needed her to know there was one man, one man, who’d die for her. That he truly believed no other would ever want her the way he did. Groaning as he lost control, he nuzzled her hair, his blood pumping hot and primal in his veins.
“Can’t stop thinking that if I’d kissed you before, you’d have realized”—he pulled her face with both his hands up to his lips as her breasts crushed against his chest—“I wasn’t the one kissing you.”
She flung her arms around him as he pulled her close, slanted his head, and hungrily covered her lips with his.
The contact was amazing. Electrifying. Terrifying.
Fire raced from the tip of his lips to the soles of his feet. She moaned against him; tasted sweet and minty and warm, making him dizzy with arousal.
“Meg,” he rasped against her, turning his head to take her lips from another angle. “Mmm. So good.” He nipped, and licked, and gently bit. “Say it, say it’s me you want.”
“Please, Cody, please…”
The gasped words were so powerful he could barely take them, caught her wrists before she kissed him again, pinned them up over her head before she ripped his control to shreds.
Her chest heaved, her nipples jutting out and pushing against the fabric of her T-shirt, drawing his
eyes. He bent his head, heard her catch her breath when he caught a nipple through the material with his lips.
She pulled her arms free and clutched the back of his head closer, gasping, “Oh, God, yes.”
He growled. “I feel so starved. Every time I hear you humming to yourself, every time you take a sip of whatever it is you have in your drink, I want to be tasting that sweet, sexy mouth.”
He came up and seized her lower lip between his teeth, swiping the plump flesh with his tongue, devouring her as softly as he could while he raised his hand and cupped her breast, kneading it.
She gasped when he pinched her nipple, and the sound drove him wild. He bent his head and suckled the taut bead through the thin fabric, his cock an aching pain inside his pants, his balls gathered high and straining in pain, they were so full.
Her breathing escalated, and when she mewled for him, his blood stormed through his body like an avalanche of need. He flattened her against the wall, grinding his hips against her, kissing her lips as his hands squeezed her hips, her waist, then dragged up to cup both her breasts. I love you, he thought. I love you I love you I love you.
But he pushed the words aside, the thoughts. This was sex. Animal attraction. He could never love her like she deserved, could never be the solid, dependable guy she needed. His brother was a murderer. He wasn’t the man for her. He wasn’t even man enough to stop.
Hungrily, he kissed her creamy neck and tasted her skin, soft and sweet. Mine. Mine. Mine, an angry primal part of him said, insisting he claim her, once and for all. No one else would touch her. Ivan could no longer stake a claim, not even try to.
Mine.
He pressed his lips over hers, and as her tongue came out to play, her taste flooded him, sparked him up like a fire. He made a moaning, groaning noise of need as he luxuriated in the soft feel of her in his arms, under his moving hands, the intoxicating taste of her. He tore his mouth away and set his nose against hers, rolling his forehead against hers as he tried to capture his breath.