talk about inconsequential things as Cody busies himself at the range, his wide back facing me. When I mention that I spoke with my mother he wants to know how she’s been. When we dated years ago they were close. My mother, Grace, took his death hard. I don’t think she’s accepted that he never died. Good for her. It’s easier that way. I haven’t had the gall, opportunity or the right words to ask about the time he spent in captivity. I assume he doesn’t want to divulge details about his darkest hours. If we become closer, I know he’ll open up to me. Even though I have no right to that information. Cody asks if I told her about him and I try to steer the conversation to anything that won’t remind me of my wedding to Dax or the fact that he was a prisoner for too many years to count. One thing is for certain, it didn’t seem to affect him outwardly. Sure, he has some new tattoos and a couple scars, but he holds himself well.
“What are you cooking?” I ask in a quick lull. It’s my chance to change the subject.
He lets me skirt around Dax without fuss. “I made breakfast—mostly everything you used to like. You’ll have to tell me if anything has changed.” He’s remembered sunny side up with crispy bacon after all this time? My heart thuds faster. This is the old Cody. My Cody: thoughtful to a fault, with a single goal to make me happy. He turns, a plate in his hand, and walks over to the table. “Sit,” he orders. What can I say? I sit, taking a chair at the head of a long rectangular table in his empty dining room. If I speak loud enough it will echo in here.
Cody leans over and places the large plate in front of me, his lips next to my cheek. His head dips lower. I raise my chin up and close my eyes. “It’s a new perfume,” I say, explaining. I know exactly where he’s going with this. If I’m being honest, it’s why I sprayed this particular scent where I did. It’s a game we always played. Mostly it was foreplay. Hot, fucking foreplay that causes my body to instantly respond like it always used to. I shudder and cross my legs underneath the table. I know he knows. Cody always has a way to tell when I’m horny out of my damn mind. It was his gift, now it may be my curse. Warm breath tickles the side of my face, and I breathe him inside me.
I turn to meet his smoldering gaze. I must look like an animal caught in headlights. “What’s it smell like?” he asks, quirking one side of his mouth up. I wet my lips and exhale a pent-up breath. I know what happens next. He leans down further, until the hair on the top of his head tickles my chin and his face is mere inches from my chest. His nose is right at the V in my shirt where my cleavage is exposed. I hear my heartbeat in my ears and my breathing is rapid as I push out small controlled breaths through my mouth. Cody inhales deeply, and as he does, I breathe in, forcing my chest out. I feel the stubble on his face brush against me. I hold my breath there, stilling—wanting this contact I crave so badly. Dragging his nose over the swell of my breast, across my chest, and up the side of my neck, he pauses just beneath my ear. I tilt my head back, and he grabs a handful of my hair. “It smells fucking delicious,” he whispers. I knew he’d like this one. A shiver runs down my spine and ricochets to every part of my body. Never in my wildest dream did I imagine feeling this again and it scares the shit out of me.
I snap out of it. “What are we doing?” I ask. “This isn’t me. Oh my God, this isn’t me, Cody.” I pant, so caught up in everything. My love for Cody and Dax…my freaking wedding. I am a good person. Lainey Rosemont is no cheater, no matter the circumstance. Right? I don’t even recognize myself right now. Cody morphs me into the person I was three years ago. The woman I was with him, before any of this happened.
Cody runs a hand through his hair. “I know.