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 h
er 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.”