“Comforting you.” His fingers stroked their way over her throat, then further down, taking the sheet with them, to her shoulder. “Is it working?”
She slapped his hand away. “I’m fine.”
“Sure?” he asked in that voice that melted her brain cells at an alarming rate. “Because I have a lot more comfort in me.”
Damn her wobbly knees anyway. She locked them into place, along with her jaw. No more men! “Positive,” she said through her teeth, afraid to let her mouth stay open for too long because God-knew-what would pop out of it, probably something like “Take me now, please.”
“You can wait here, you know,” he said.
“I’m going with you.”
He studied her for a long moment, and she got the impression he saw far more than she wanted him to. “Suit yourself, then,” he said.
“Oh, I will. I always do.”
Wasn’t that just the problem.
Nine
People who think they know everything are annoying to those of us who do.
—Breanne Mooreland’s journal entry
As they left the bedroom together, Cooper surprised Breanne by taking her hand, leading the way. The hallway was every bit as dark as she remembered, and though she was no longer cold, a shiver shook her.
Cooper pulled her to his side, sliding an arm around her. She might have protested, but there was something incredibly protective, even possessive, in the gesture, and she was feeling just weak enough to need both.
She couldn’t see a thing, but Cooper didn’t seem to have the same problem, leading them unerringly to the bedroom she’d just vacated. Once inside the doorway, the glow from the candles on the dresser lit the room.
Cooper put a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed, which she took to mean “stay,” and then he walked through the room, checking the bathroom—which was unlocked—the closet, under the bed, and even under the mountain of down bedding.
When he turned back to her she expected to see amusement, or perhaps even annoyance, but instead he looked quite intense. “I don’t see anything.”
He hadn’t said she was crazy, or that she had an imagination she needed to turn off. He simply believed her. “Thank you,” she whispered around a suddenly tight throat, fighting a sudden urge to hug him. “I’m just losing it. I can sleep now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very. Thanks.”
Looking not quite happy with that, he again lifted the covers, this time for her, in a silent invitation for her to get back beneath them.
He was tucking her into bed. The sweetness of that didn’t escape her, but her feet just wouldn’t take her to the bed.
“Breanne?”
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“Yeah. I’m coming.”
“See, that’s the thing,” he said, watching her very carefully. “Your feet aren’t moving.”
“I know. Maybe if I give them a minute.”
He dropped the covers and moved toward her. Reaching up, he entwined his fingers in her hair at the nape of her neck and tugged lightly, tipping her face up to his. “You don’t really want to sleep in here, do you?”
She started to nod yes, but ended up giving a slow shake of her head. No.
“Back to the couch?” he asked.
Another shake in the negative.
“You can have the suite—you know that, right?” he asked.
This time she nodded.
“Is that yes, you want to switch rooms with me?”
She bit her lower lip.
His gaze dropped to the movement. “I’m going to need words here, Princess.”
“I don’t suppose you’d mind hosting a sleepover?”
His eyes flamed.
“I meant the platonic kind of sleepover,” she said quickly.
“Ah.”
The “ah” was loaded, and the air felt charged as he looked at her. “What if you can’t control yourself?” he finally asked, his fingers still in her hair.
“I think I can.”
An almost smile curved his lips. “Sure?” He had fine laugh lines fanning out from the corners of his mischievous blue eyes, and looking into them, she thought, God help me, I’m not. “Don’t flatter yourself.” She backed away from him and grabbed her bag.
Before she could sling it over her shoulder, he took it and slung it over his instead, then held out his hand. He waggled his fingers, waiting, and when she slipped her hand in his big, warm one, he smiled at her. It was a kind smile, not mocking her fear or her antics of the night, and she felt herself want to smile back.
No more men.
Oops. Almost forgot. Damn, how easy was she? One smile and she’d been just about to make another bad, bad decision. Good thing she’d caught herself. Good thing she was strong. Hear me roar.