“Why are we here?”
Meg glanced around the abandoned front yard of what used to be the Nordstroms’ old home, her skin crawling as Cody kicked the front door open.
“Detour,” he said, and crooked his finger so that she followed.
At her refusal to be dumped at Zach and Paige’s home, Cody had driven all night, stopped by his office for paperwork, coffee at midnight, and in between errands, Meg had dozed on and off.
When she woke up it was 6:29 in the morning, the sun was beginning to light the empty streets, and they were back in a neighborhood her family had sworn never to return to.
Swallowing a lump of fear, Megan cautiously stepped inside, surveying the place in horror while Cody inspected the rotting wood beams above.
My God, it seemed like nothing could have ever thrived here. No evidence of life remained. The furniture was mostly gone, and what remained contained layers and layers of dust and maybe termites. The marble floor was cracked and uneven, making walking a hazard.
Assailed by a wave of pity as she remembered the once-cozy ambience of this household, Meg dragged her fingers over the dusty dining room table surface, then she recalled Ivan’s face across the table, young and predatory at sixteen and gazing at her as if she were lunch, and she yanked her hand back. “Are you looking for something in particular?” she asked Cody’s broad back.
“I always come here when I need to think.”
She didn’t imagine it; there was wistfulness in his tone, and it made her feel incredibly sad.
Standing here, while a truckful of memories threatened to burst through her walls of forgetfulness, Megan wondered how Cody could possibly bear it. Come here to “think” and at the same time, confront the horrors that had happened here. And it had been horrifying. Don’t think about it, she thought frantically as she felt herself grow faint.
But an image of Ivan standing over the bodies, bloodied and screaming as he continued hacking away at their flesh, flashed through her mind, and her blood froze in her veins. “You don’t think he would be here, too, would he?” she squeaked in sudden fear, rushing up to stand close to him. Suddenly she had the distinct sensation of being watched. The hair all along her arms rose to attention, and her heart began to thunder.
Oh, God, he was watching.
“Not sure he’d risk coming here.”
Calm and cool as ever, Cody crossed the cluttered length of the old kitchen, then went to check the glass doors that led to the back yard. As he checked for the kind of stuff detectives always check for, he said, without looking up, “You’d be amazed how many cases crack open with the most stupid mistakes—criminals returning to the scene of the crime, that sort of thing.” He straightened and pulled a fistful of hair in apparent frustration, and when he let go, part of his hair remained standing up so adorably, making him look so handsome and irresistible, that she felt her fear begin to ebb away. “What I want to figure out is where this bastard’s hiding,” he admitted.
And what I’d like to figure out is what a girl needs to do to make you notice her.
His face was so virile, Cody would make the perfect Armani model. And with that killer tie, a solid, satiny, crimson one that brought out his tan, he could be on TV right now.
Oblivious to her thoughts, he walked to the bookshelf that used to contain the world’s largest collection of family photographs, and she wondered if Cody remembered the sounds of his mother’s cooking.
Megan did. The clang of the baking pans, the click click click of the oven timer. It could’ve been yesterday that she was here, playing Life with Cody and Ivan and even Mr. Nordstrom, while the Mrs. pulled out homemade Margarita pizza from the oven. Ivan hadn’t seemed happy here, nor had Mr. and Mrs. Nordstrom ever been proud of Ivan the way they had, clearly, been of Cody.
“Where would you hide, if you were him?” she asked as she watched him, loving the way his muscles bulged as he reached out and wiped the dust off the empty shelves.
His head came up, and the corners of his lips formed a barely-there smile. “Here.”
“Here?” she asked, shocked. “Really?” In this decrepit, smelly old house? Well, maybe he remembers the Life days, too.
“Yep. I’d hide right here.” He banged the wall with his fist. “Under everyone’s very own noses.”
She made a face and crossed her arms. “We could say Ivan’s got that pegged, too, you know. He was hiding in your home just hours ago, and something about the way he hesitated before approaching me made me think he hadn’t planned on me being there.”
Cody’s expression darkened; his entire face tightening with anger. “And then he saw you in your…”
“My purchases, why, yes!”
The nonchalance she tried injecting into her admission seemed to pass by him unnoticed, for Cody stared at her for a long, tense moment, his blue gaze dark and shuttered and so personal she felt the muscles of her legs turn buttery. He walked over to her, moving slow and sure, like a panther. His voice dropped a decibel.
“What where you doing there?”
The gruffly spoken question stroked her insides more than any seductive whisper.
His manly stance, his hot, possessive gaze, ignited her need and hunger until her throat hurt with the need to tell him how he made her feel.
Those beautiful blue eyes he stared at her with now had seen the same thing that haunted her nightmares. Those beautiful blue eyes were exactly like the killer’s, except she liked to think that she knew their small differences.
Cody’s lashes were longer, the tips blonder, and the way he used those eyes—to control, to intimidate, even to seduce—was a power his twin had never mastered.
Those eyes made her want to melt.
Now those eyes demanded she answer, but her pride would not allow her to admit the truth out loud.
“I already told you.”
Unsettled by his stare, she pivoted around and headed to the small study, crossing all the way to the back of the room, determined to pretend to be engrossed in the sight of her old home from the arched window. She was sure that a man like Cody—a cynic by nature and a detective by trade—did not buy her tale in the least.
But then again, maybe he did. Because he wanted to.
For years, Cody Nordstrom had been chasing killers.
His focus generally was aimed toward evil motivations, revenge and jealousy, the kind that inspired people to kill. He was not focused on the good emotions so much, like how and why someone sought out happiness and comfort. She was sure that if he had any inkling of how she felt for him, he would stop tormenting her and either buy a one-way ticket to Mars, or buy a roundtrip for two for their honeymoon. And yet, evidence pointed to the fact that he couldn’t see, didn’t realize that Megan wanted him … beyond bearing.
“You know,” she began tentatively, “I think Ivan was trying on your suits while hiding in your closet. That’s why the closet door burst open; there was some movement going on inside.”
Cody didn’t seem surprised, but he also seemed preoccupied.
Wondering what he wasn’t telling her, Megan went fishing for information. “You’d make lieutenant if you weren’t so blind to what’s right before you sometimes. I bet you hadn’t noticed he messed with your closet, huh?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Trust me, I noticed.”
She could tell by his amused tone that he knew he was being baited, and that he didn’t plan to fall any further than that.
Plus being that he was surveying the place like a hellhound, she suddenly felt a little stupid for telling him he was missing a point, because he was definitely being very thorough. But then hadn’t Paige said she needed to do something because he never would?
Yes, she had. So Megan let her top slip from one of her shoulders, low enough so that when she baited him a little more and he finally glanced at her, he would notice that her bra was falling off one shoulder as well as her shirt, and he would see the top of the creamy globe. “So you never miss a thing, Nordstrom? Ever?”
He straightened and stiffened when he saw, then seemed to have trouble finding the right words to say: “Meg, can’t help but notice.… your shirt’s falling off.”
She met his glimmering blue gaze head on, and just smiled at him, not bothering to fix it, issuing him a silent dare …
* * *
Okay, maybe he’d failed to say it loud enough. Heck, maybe, he was so wired-up he’d only thought it.
“Your shirt’s falling off,” Cody repeated.
His voice faltered, so he cleared his throat and then, when Megan remained motionless, leaning against the wall and looking like a lovely pinup girl, he pointed a shaky hand down at her … beautiful, almost exposed, perfectly shaped wet-dream of a boob.
“Your shirt—Meg.”
Eyes widening in surprise, Megan looked down at that perfect half-exposed breast, then innocently up at him, her eyes so green he could get lost in them, like in a rainforest. His hands itched at his sides. His whole body itched under his suit. He wanted to tear off his tie and curl it around her rump and use it to pull her up against him.
He could imagine her … Wanna take her upstairs, in my old room, my old bed, where I thought of her so many times … No, dammit! He’d come here to think, but instead she was driving him crazy, and this was not the time to indulge in teen fantasies. He’d stopped being a teen at sixteen, when his parents had been murdered.
In this very house!
He gritted his teeth and pointed once again at her cotton top draped over that creamy shoulder almost all the way down to what he was sure would be the pinkest, perkiest little nipple he’d ever seen.
His eyes fastened to it, and suddenly he knew he would not be able to pull his gaze free if she didn’t pull that damned top in place.
But Megan did nothing to fix the problem, to remove the temptation.
Instead, she made a slight sound, like a sigh, leaned back, further back against the wall, and aroused the fucking daylights out of him when she closed her eyes and pushed her breasts out like she was taking the sun outside.
“I could really use some coffee later,” she murmured sleepily, her eyes still closed. “Mind if I wait here while you do your thinking?”
Like hell. Like he could think about anything with her here, almost naked.
He wanted to pounce on her. He wanted to warn her to run, but then that would only make him want to chase her. And what would he do when he caught her? Fuck I’m going to lick her calves like an ice cream cone … suckle her breasts till there’s no tomorrow … taste her honey and suck every last drop …
He wanted the killer, yes, his no-good sadistic brother, but right now all he really wanted was to take little Megan Banks in his arms and … God, his cock was about to explode.
She pushed from the wall with a soft smile and moved toward him, enough for his nostrils to flare in his need to inhale all of her. The air became oxygenless; heavy with need, charged with longing. The breeze outside moaned, as though the rasping against trees were erotic. Her incoming scent continued to draw him in, make him think of his childhood, and strangely, of his kids, how they would be if he ever had a couple. A daughter with her eyes, her hair.
Megan wrapping her legs around me … pulling me closer …
His breathing accelerated as he tried to maintain control, stay in place, but her eyes were shining with welcome, and holy God, were those hard little points her nipples against her top? She licked her lips. “So,” she said, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
He took a step. Bad idea, Cody, stop stop stop. He couldn’t help himself and reached up, stroked her lips with his thumb. His hand trembled; she shuddered at first touch.
Ecstasy swarmed him when she closed her eyes, a bubbling sensation in his veins as he allowed himself the luxury of stroking that mouth, driving himself way too hot just watching the way her breath changed. “So,” he rasped back.
She held her breath, but when she opened her eyes, there wasn’t desire there, but fear. “Someone’s watching us.”
Silence reigned. A knife of possessiveness sliced through him, and he pulled her close, hugging her while he assessed his surroundings, whispering in her ear, “Don’t move.”
Her body felt perfect against his, perfectly female, and just to give the monster a little of what he had for his entire existence begged for, he cupped her ass to distract whoever was watching them, keep them from noticing his other hand, reaching into his jacket. As he felt the grip at the tip of his fingers, he continued to savor the shape and pulled her tight against his aching groin.
“It’s him, isn’t it,” she whispered, pulling her top over her shoulder and smashing herself against him, her voice scared. “He’s here.”
The prickle at the back of his neck didn’t lie.
“Yeah.” Almost there; he curled his fist around his gun. “Give me one more second.”
Had they not felt a presence, he could’ve kissed her and urged her to tell him that she wanted it, his cock, against her, inside her, but when she squirmed restlessly closer against him, he knew she did, and he knew he couldn’t do shit about it, never would, and it drove him to the edge.
He groaned, keeping her pinned against his body as he turned, and called out, with his gun firmly in his grip. “Ivan, I need to talk to you.”
It was his twin, it had to be. The only damned bastard that had ever crept so easily past Cody’s radar. Megan shouldn’t be here, dammit.
A noise came from up above, and when a book landed splat! three inches to her right, Megan jumped in alarm.
Cody curled an arm around her waist, bending over so that only she could make out his whisper. “You’re all right, you’re with me.”
She nodded fast enough to get dizzy. “What does he want?” she squeaked.
“I don’t know, but I sure as hell would like to find out. Let’s talk to him for a bit, hmm?” He raised his head to scan the room, sure that Ivan was somewhere up in the rafters. “Ivan, if it’s you, come out here and talk to us.”
A voice broke through the space as if spoken through a microphone. “Last time you talked to me you tossed my ass in jail, brother.”
Cody almost stumbled back when his brother’s baritone struck him. Holy fuck, genetics were amazing. Cody could’ve been doing the talking, their voices were identical. And then it barreled into him: and he knew exactly how this bastard would have managed to escape prison.
Get his hands on a badge and a suit and—whoa, a crimson tie—and he’d look just like Cody.
Heart pounding at the possibility of Ivan being smarter than he remembered, Cody searched for him up in the wood beams and the second level library, but failed to find him. He’d be climbing up there by now, he’d already have the bastard by the throat, if not for the scared little kitten currently holding on to his arm.
“I’m on vacation this week,” he told his brother, as easily as though he were speaking to Zach in an attempt to inspire his confidence. “So what do you say we lunch together and talk? Noon? Meet me at Marcel’s Bistro in the Western Plaza.” He needed answers, and more than that, he needed that bastard back where he belonged. Serving a life term.
The silence gave him hope, so he yanked out his business card, set it over the tome on the floor—Moby-Dick—and guided Megan out of there, calling behind his shoulder, “I’ll see you there.”
Ivan wouldn’t follow.
Not yet.
The bastard wanted something, and Cody was pretty sure that she was currently walking in his arms.
* * *
Megan turned out to be quite the stubborn little package.
She didn’t want to sleep at her house, and she refused to stay at the Rivers place if Cody wasn’t, and after Ivan had picked his locks, Cody couldn’t very well take her to his home, either. Plus, considering the fact that he only had one bed and the thought of Megan Banks’s juicy derriere sleeping in it drove Cody’s libido out of whack, his place was definitely out of the picture.
So he ended up setting them up for the night at the Candelabra, a small, boutique hotel that was close enough to the Western Plaza shopping center to make his meeting with Ivan on time tomorrow.
Since keeping things businesslike was the way to go, he got two connecting rooms with king-size beds, shared an early dinner downstairs with her, and once they went upstairs, threw himself into his research.
At least, that was his plan.
Megan seemed to have another idea.
While Cody surveyed all the paperwork he’d brought, she padded out from her room and curled up next to him on the couch, cuddling against his chest.
Within minutes she fell asleep, the soft sounds of her breathing audible in the silence, while Cody did his damnedest to concentrate and review everything he’d written about his brother on his first capture. Where he’d caught him last. Where he’d been seen before.
“No!” Megan suddenly murmured in her sleep.
She tossed her head to the side, her hair falling in a waterfall of golden tresses across her cheek. Damn, it had been a mistake to go back to his parents’ place. Abandoned, falling apart, and the stench of death still lingering. But it was a place that would always be a part of him, a reminder of his origins, his failure. Every time he visited, he felt angry, determined, and many times, enlightened.
But what in the hell had Ivan been doing there?
Could he be hiding there now? No, he must have left.
Another moan filtered through his thoughts, soft and deep. It struck him that she sounded like a woman being made love to. His dick jumped at the thought.
Stiff as a flagpole almost instantly, Cody tried pushing her off his lap, but Meg whimpered again, and he felt a pang of sympathy.
Okay, he could do this. Comfort her. She’d wanted a hug before, maybe she just wanted that now.
He ran an awkward hand down her hair, attempting to soothe her. Not to touch her hair or any of that stuff; he’d always tried to touch her as little as possible. But tonight she was whimpering and he wasn’t deaf—he heard her moans. He ran his hand down her hair again—silky delicious hair, not that he was really noticing. “Shh. Relax. Go to sleep.”
She whimpered again, and Cody shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the sound. Damn it was hard. He pitched himself to the darkest day of his life, the only thing that could bring him out of any sensual haze.
It had been awful, that day. He’d been sharing looks with her for weeks. Heated looks. And he’d been standing closer only to find out that she didn’t move away. Cody was certain, certain, that she liked him.
“She wants me,” Ivan had taunted that evening. “It’s me she wants, not you.”
“Shut up,” Cody had said. “You’re just jealous she’s walking with me tomorrow and not you.”
“I’m not jealous. You can’t even get her to kiss you.”
“Of course I can, you dimwit,” Cody assured him, but really, he wasn’t so sure. She was different than the other girls; special. He didn’t want to screw it up.
“I could make her have sex with me,” Ivan offered.
“I can make her have sex with me, too,” Cody countered, angry, “and when she has sex with me she’ll be mine, all mine, no one else can ever touch her, especially you.”
“Ten dollars you can’t get her to do it tonight.”
Cody had been pissed, but he’d been challenged and he’d shaken that asshole’s hand.
For ten fucking dollars.
Now he could never bring himself to imagine being with her; he felt like that moment would be tainted, forever, because he’d shaken his brother’s dirty hand and had boasted that he’d lose his virginity and take Megan’s for ten dollars.
He remembered leading her into the woods and how they began arguing about something. He didn’t remember what, it was so inconsequential. Something about him being too quiet and acting weird, according to her. Apparently he wasn’t good at appeasing perceptive females either, because she said, “You know what, Cody? I don’t feel like walking with you today after all.”
They walked back through the woods back to the house, and that’s when they saw them.
In the living room that adjoined the kitchen.
His parents, in a pool of their own blood. The family cat.
Every living breathing thing in that house had been killed.
And at the ages of sixteen and fourteen, they witnessed their first murder.
One week later, he was taken in by his mother’s Texan relatives, and Cody left town. He thought that he’d died the day he’d seen his parents’ murdered bodies.
But he’d been wrong.
Some part, some small part of him, had been clinging to life. That last part had died the day Megan watched him drive away through that window.
He stopped dreaming. He stopped wanting to live. He stopped thinking. He became an animal. Was labeled aggressive in school. Antisocial. Rebellious, even though he was still naively innocent—every act of vandalism he committed, he later came to clean, every property he damaged in his raging fits would be mended the next day. It was a need to make things right that kept him coming back, and a need to hurt something that made him do something wrong. And it was that need that made him come back to Phoenix, Arizona, to the dry weather, the cacti, the Southwestern flair homes, every year on the anniversary of his parents’ death, and then later, to make a home here. And make things right.
He hadn’t intended to look for Megan, at least, not at first.
He supposed she’d put the past behind her and didn’t need to see his big ugly coyote face every day as reminder. But then he saw her, that day at the cemetery, and when she spotted him across the graves of his parents, he knew she had not forgotten him.
She had not forgotten him, or that night long ago, the one they would never forget.
“No,” she gasped now, and when she squirmed, her ear grazed his groin—more exactly, the muscle awakening there—and Cody bit back a growl as pleasure shot up his spine.
She snuggled with her nose, caressing that aching part of him without knowledge, and it was so unexpected that his grip loosened on the papers he’d been holding. They cascaded to the floor, all at once, in a whisper.
He murmured in a breathless prayer, “God don’t do this to me,” and gave up, dropping his head back and taking a deep breath. He wanted to push her away. No. He wanted to pull her closer. Wrap her legs around him. And make her forget every man but him. Make her forget every pain with the pleasure he could give her.
Before he could control himself, his palm cupped the soft, perfectly round swell of her right breast, just to discover that it fit so right in his … no!! What the hell was the matter with him? He yanked his hand away and, shocked, glanced down: saw that she still had her eyes closed.
The breath shuddered out of him as he eased away from her and set her back on the sofa.
“Banks, Megan … Meg,” he said, his voice laced with warning. “Stop … making noises.”
She did not stir, but parted her lips to let go a sigh. And those lips, holy God, they were so wet and pink.
He growled.
“You better wake up and tell me to get the hell away from you,” he said, his starving eyes fastened on her parted lips. He had wondered many times what they would feel like. Taste like. And then he’d cursed at himself for wanting to know. He’d caused her enough grief. He was cursed.
But now it didn’t matter, it was difficult to feel anything other than hot inside, and itchy in his skin, and hungry. Now he saw her lips and if he did not take them soon, if he did not taste her with his own, he would die all over again like the day he’d been taken away.
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.”