My throat tightened as I listened to him. His mention of the hospital and the way he was talking to me opened up the floodgates on emotions I usually kept locked tightly away.
Damn it, I knew it. I knew he’d get to me somehow.
“You were thinking about me when you were in the hospital?” I asked quietly, my body tensing.
“Constantly,” he mumbled into my neck.
Before he could grab me, I was off his lap and standing next to the couch, trying to keep my nose from wrinkling as I glared at him.
“You’re such an asshole!” I screeched, not caring that I sounded like a freaking lunatic.
“What the fuck?”
“Oh yeah,” I said, working up a good rant as I yanked up my sweats and paced in front of him, all of my protective filters deserting me. “You were just consumed with thoughts of me. Because I’m just so beautiful. What a load of horseshit!”
“What’s your problem?” he shouted, climbing to his feet.
“You didn’t even fucking call me when you were in the hospital!”
“I sent you a text!”
“Are you kidding me right now? You sent me one word, Cody! One! Do you remember what you said?” I watched him as he tried to remember, and my irritation ratcheted up even higher. “You sent, ‘Alive.’ That’s it! That’s all I got!”
“And?”
“You cannot be that stupid.” I growled as his mouth curved up into a grin. “Do you know what that was like for me?”
“I knew you were with Grams. She was getting all the info you needed,” he answered calmly, pissing me off even more with his logic.
“That’s not the point!”
“Well, what the fuck is the point, then? Because it sounds to me like we’re talking in fucking circles!”
“I was worried!” I screamed back, covering my mouth as soon as the words slipped out. I scrambled backward, my wide eyes meeting his as he stalked me toward the front door.
“You were worried?” he asked softly, his face softening. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Get the fuck out of my house!” I backpedalled, refusing to acknowledge my last words. Shit, I’d practically laid myself open with three freaking words. What the hell was I thinking?
But I wasn’t thinking, and that was the point. He did this to me.
“Shut up,” he said in a low growl as he advanced on me, reaching me as my back hit the front door. “You were worried about me.”
His mouth was on mine before I could reply.
Oh God.
He bit my bottom lip as I tried to turn my head away, but the gentle way his fingers brushed my cheeks was what stopped any idea of escape. This was Cody, and I had no defenses against him.
Before I could react he kissed me hard, then licked deep into my mouth as I whimpered and wrapped my hands around the back of his head to pull him closer. As much as I tried to deny it, to pretend like he was just an acquaintance, someone I had to deal with because of how entrenched I was with his family—it wasn’t true. Not at all. I had been worried. I’d been scared out of my mind when we found out he’d been shot, unable to function until I’d gotten his text.
For the first time, my nightmares had begun to have a face. I’d woken up shaking and crying for a month afterward, my boyfriend’s death playing over and over through my dreams, but it hadn’t been Echo dying in those dreams. It had been Cody’s face that startled me awake, leaving me covered in a cold sweat.
And now he was there, safe and wrapped around me in a way I’d never let myself imagine him. I inhaled against his throat, reveling in the clean scent of his skin as he lifted me against the door, and tried to wrap my legs around his waist.
“These have to go,” he growled, pushing at the waistband of my sweats when the extra material kept me from getting as close as he wanted. They slipped off my hips and hit the floor just seconds before he successfully pulled my legs completely around his waist. “There you are,” he murmured into my mouth as he used his hips to brace me against the door, then rocked his pelvis against me.
I could have sobbed with relief when his mouth met mine again. I knew my lack of baggy pants took away any chance of camouflaging how skinny I’d gotten, and for a second, I was terrified that when he saw me he’d be disgusted. He wasn’t grossed out, thank God. If anything, my freshly waxed legs, no matter how slender they were, seemed to have lit a fuse in him that had him groping at them desperately.
I was sucking at his bottom lip, pulling his T-shirt up his body, when a knock at the door startled us both.
“You expecting someone?” he asked suspiciously as he set me down gently on my shaky legs.
“Yeah, maybe we can have a threesome?” I replied in a high-pitched voice, dramatically reaching up to twirl my fingers in my hair like an airhead. Then I dropped my hand and shook my head at him, scowling. “Don’t be a dick.”
The knock sounded again, and with one last glance he wiped a hand over his face before turning to unlock the door, pushing me cautiously behind him as he opened it.
“G-Gram,” he stuttered, and I watched the back of his neck darken.
He didn’t stop his grandmother as she used the palm of her hand to push the door wider, and I grimaced as she caught a look at me in all my whorish, half-naked glory.
“It’s about time.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t care what you’re doing, but keep your voices down. The whole damn complex can hear you screaming, and if you wake up your nephew, I’ll kill you.”
She stepped toward Cody and reached around him, running her hand gently down my hair before giving my shoulder a small squeeze. “I’ll see you both in the morning for breakfast,” she stated firmly, catching my eye to let me know she wasn’t going to let me skip out.
We stood there silently as she walked away, and as soon as we heard her apartment door shut next door, Cody turned toward me and closed the door.
“I’ll get you some blankets for the couch,” I mumbled in embarrassment, pulling at the bottom of my tank top as if to hide the plain cotton underwear I was wearing. No longer in the heat of the moment, I was rethinking the advisability of sleeping with my best friend’s brother, especially with his grandmother next door. I took a step back, refusing to turn around and let him see my ass with the words You Bowl Me Over written across my underwear, complete with little black bowling pins.
“Farrah,” he said softly, refusing to move until I lifted my head to look at him. I tried to keep my expression neutral but must have been unsuccessful, because in the next moment he flipped the dead bolt and murmured, “Fuck it,” as he lifted me up and carried me toward my bedroom.
Chapter 3
Farrah
Cody’s lips never left mine as my back landed on the tangled sheets of my bed, and I squeaked in surprise when something dug into the back of my thigh.
“What’s wrong?” He gasped as I tried to wiggle off the offending object, the breath from his words whispering across my skin as he moved his mouth over my jaw.
“Stop!” I yelped, pulling my face away.
“What?”
“Move!” I groaned, pushing him to the side as I scooted up the bed. “There’s something digging into my ass.”
“There’s going to be,” he said, waggling his eyebrows up and down.
“Shut up!” I giggled, reaching under me to pull out . . . a high heel? How the hell did that get there?
“Shit, Farrah. You’re a little piglet.”
He sounded surprised as he looked around my room at the piles of laundry and miscellaneous junk that cluttered the floor. My face burned in embarrassment as I shrugged my shoulders and flopped back down on the bed.
“Tomorrow’s laundry day,” I grumbled, throwing my forearm over my face. What the hell had I been thinking, letting him into my room?
The bed dipped down and Cody straddled me on his knees, pulling my arm away to look at me.
“We’re cleaning this shit up tomorrow,” he told me with a smile, then ran his h
ands up my belly until he was cupping my small breasts in his hands.
“Cleaning is not an aphrodisiac, you lunatic,” I huffed, retreating into my protective sarcasm as I rested my hands lightly on his thighs. Holy shit, the guy worked out.
“You’re right, sweetheart, it really isn’t,” he whispered, leaning down until our faces were just millimeters apart. “But waking up with you in the morning is.”
He ran his tongue across my bottom lip, completely distracting me from the conversation we were having, and I gasped as his fingers found my nipples and gently squeezed. Good Lord, it was like he knew exactly what to do to make me come unglued. We were both breathing heavily as the kiss grew frenzied, and I almost missed it when he began to pull the thin straps of my tank top off my shoulders. Almost.
The straps had reached the middle of my arms before sanity crept in, and I reached up to grasp the shirt at my collarbone as he began to drag it down. We played tug-of-war for a moment, a silent argument that didn’t affect our kiss at all until he abruptly pulled away from me.
“What are you doing?” He leaned back until he was practically sitting on my hips, panting as he frowned at me.
Instead of explaining myself, I silently reached for my underwear, pressing my hands between his thighs as I pushed them down as far as I could. If I could just get him to the good stuff, we’d be in the clear. A guy couldn’t resist a chick with no underwear, right? He didn’t move a muscle above me, and I didn’t meet his eyes as I tilted my hips, trying in vain to push them off the rest of the way.
“Farrah, baby, talk to me.”
“I don’t want to take my shirt off.” I focused on his throat, unable to meet his eyes as I continued to tug at my underwear. All he had to do was shift just a little and I’d have them off . . .
His hand was gentle but firm as he tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes as he mumbled, “What’s going on?”
“You don’t want to take it off. Trust me on this. Can we just drop it?” I asked in exasperation, my hands moving from my hips to the button on his jeans. Maybe if I could get to the goods underneath, he’d forget the shirt. He was as hard as a rock underneath, and I couldn’t help but get sidetracked, taking a small detour down the front of his zipper, causing him to suck in a harsh breath before he grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head. Access denied.
“I do want to take it off,” he answered darkly. “I want those tits. I’ve been dying to see how much of them I can fit in my mouth.”
My jaw dropped in surprise, and I opened and closed it a few times before clenching it in frustration as I stared him down. He didn’t seem to be changing his mind, and I debated putting a kibosh on the whole thing, but only for a moment. I’d never been more turned on in my life, and the thought of walking away was inconceivable. I didn’t want to lose the chance of seeing him naked, especially because I had a feeling it would be a one-time deal.
“Fine,” I said with a huff, relaxing my body onto the bed as my stomach clenched hard with anxiety. He was going to do it—take off what little armor I was wearing—and he was going to regret it, but there was no changing his mind. There was a reason I’d stopped wearing bikinis, choosing instead to wear pinup-style one pieces. I tried to catalog my swimsuit collection in my head to focus on anything but where I was and what was about to happen, but it didn’t work. Once I’d given the okay, he released my wrists and swiftly pulled the shirt up and over my head.
I couldn’t watch. I didn’t want to see his reaction.
My eyes were shut tight and my hands in tight fists as his fingers traced lightly over my torso.
“Look at me,” he whispered urgently, his tone relaxing me enough to look into his eyes. “Ladybugs . . . and a daisy?”
I nodded once, my throat tight with tears as he moved from one tattoo to the next with soft touches.
A few years ago, I’d had an accident—at least, that was what Callie and I had told the skeptical doctors. The truth? My mother had watched while her repulsive boyfriend beat me bloody and then proceeded to burn me with his cigar. Thankfully, I’d gone in and out of consciousness during the ordeal, so I only had vague memories. The scars, however, were not as easily forgotten. There were eleven in all, mostly scattered across my ribs, with a few on my breasts and one low on my belly.
It must have been a pretty long cigar.
I never knew what spooked them, why they’d hauled ass out of the house and left me in the middle of the living room next to the broken coffee table. It didn’t matter. I was just thankful that after the last burn—the one right above my underwear line—he’d crawled off of me instead of pulling down my pants to inflict even more damage.
I lay there quietly while Cody ran his fingers over the small ladybug-covered scars peppering my body, and sobbed once in relief when he leaned down and swiped the daisy covering the scar two inches above my pubic bone with his tongue.
“Don’t ever hide from me again,” he murmured into my skin, his eyes meeting mine. “I’m all in, Farrah. There’s nothing about you that would turn me off, okay?”
“Okay.” I sniffled, nodding my head.
“Not sure how this is going to turn out,” he told me seriously, causing my body to still. “But I’ve been covered in your vomit, and I still want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. That has to mean something.”
“You just used the word vomit in a sentence and made it sound romantic,” I replied with a shy grin. “I guess that means I’m all in too.”
He wore a wide smile as he reached behind his neck with one hand, contorting his body to pull his shirt over his head and one arm, leaving it to dangle on his injured shoulder for a moment before he met my eyes and let it drop.
The scar from his bullet wound wasn’t as bad as I’d envisioned, about twice the size of one of mine, but the reality of why it was there had my stomach clenching. It was so close, too close to where his heart beat heavy with adrenalin and arousal. It could have turned out so much worse. I couldn’t stop the impulse that had me leaning up to caress the red skin lightly with my lips, and before I could pull away, I felt his hand tangle in the back of my hair to hold me in place.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured quietly into the top of my hair. “If I could get rid of it, I would. I know it brings up bad memories.”
I was startled by his comment, instantly remembering the day Echo was shot. Honestly, I hadn’t even been thinking about that horrible day; relief that Cody was safe and there with me overpowered any lingering memories of what had been the worst day of my life. I leaned my head against his chest, a mixture of guilt over my lack of reaction and relief that I hadn’t reacted warring inside me as I breathed him in. Relief won.
“I don’t want to think about it. Okay?” I told him quietly, kissing his chest. “I’m not really into threesomes. There’s no room for him here.”
I held my body still, waiting for his reply. Would he think I was a bitch for making light of it? Making flippant comments and poorly timed jokes was the way I made it through uncomfortable and painful situations, and speaking of Echo with Cody fell into both of those categories. I’d loved Echo, of course I had, but he died three years ago. At some point, after the downward spiral and subsequent come-to-Jesus meeting I’d had with Gram, I had to let him go. Whatever happened or didn’t happen with Cody had to be completely separate from Echo.
I was cringing inside, waiting for him to call me out on my remark when he surprised me, using his hold in my hair to jerk my face up to meet his. I tried to read his expression, but didn’t have the chance because his lips were on mine immediately, biting and sucking at them with an urgency that hadn’t been there before. I kept my eyes open, reveling in the way his eyebrows drew down in the middle as if he was concentrating solely on me.
Just as my eyes began to grow heavy, my breath coming out in pants as his hands tightened in my hair, he pulled his lips from mine and let go of me completely.
Cody’s eyes never left mine
as he slid back off the bed and stood up, pulling his jeans, boots, and socks off before placing his hand between my breasts to push me back on the bed. Then he broke the connection to grab my underwear in both hands and yank them down my legs. I only had a second of self-consciousness about my pronounced hipbones and bony knees before he spoke, reassuring me with two words.
“Holy hell.” He groaned when he realized that my legs weren’t the only thing I waxed. “You’re going to kill me.”
“You’re lucky, I just had my appointment last week. If you would have come here sooner . . .” I shook my head in mock seriousness and giggled as his face lit up with humor.
What was this guy doing to me? I wasn’t a giggler. Ever.
He growled and pounced on me as I howled with laughter, and I felt as if I were floating. Sex had never been fun for me before. It wasn’t that I’d never liked it, but with every other guy I’d been with, I hadn’t felt comfortable enough to let my guard down. It was serious business, sometimes frantic, other times slow and sultry, but never once in the years I’d been having sex had it ever been fun.
As I tried to crab walk away from him, he caught me by swooping down to pull my nipple into his mouth, and we both groaned as my back arched off the bed. I wrapped my hands around the back of his head, my knees gripping his sides as he moved back and forth, alternately kissing and sucking, pausing occasionally to detour to one of my ladybugs. Then he met my eyes with a wicked grin and leaned down to suck as much of my breast as he could into his mouth as his fingers slid between my legs.
The dual sensations had me scrambling as I tried to decide which to focus on, but as his fingers slid into me and his mouth popped off my breast, the decision was made.
“Condoms?” he asked desperately as his thumb started circling my clit while his fingers pumped slowly in and out.
Could your eyes really roll back into your head, or did they just feel that way? I couldn’t figure out why he was bothering me as I chased my orgasm. Didn’t he see I was busy?