Get a Clue(73)

If he laughed, she swore to herself, she was going to kick his balls into next week.

He wasn’t laughing.

Instead, he was looking down at her with a softened expression of tenderness that froze her limbs and sucked the breath out of her lungs, making her throat so damn tight she couldn’t even swallow.

“Breanne,” he said very gently.

“Don’t.” Somehow she managed to swallow the ball of emotion lodged in her throat, though it burned like fire. “Don’t.” Though it was silly, she tossed an arm up over her eyes.

He simply reached up and pulled it away from her face, that much closer now, kissing first one cheek, then the other. Then her jaw, nuzzling the spot just beneath. “You are the sexiest, most amazing woman I’ve ever met,” he said. “There is nothing wrong with you, nothing at all, except . . .”

She kept her eyes tightly closed. “Except . . . ?”

“Except that I missed a few spots the first time. I need to make sure I’ve thoroughly researched each area before giving you my full opinion.”

She heard the rip of the condom packet and opened her eyes.

“Look at you,” he murmured, staring down at her. “So sexy, so amazing. We’re going to make love again, Bree, just so I can prove it to you. And then again, if need be. No task is too much for the cause—”#p#分页标题#e#

“Cooper—”

“Right here, babe.” He slipped into her body, fitting like he’d been made just for her. “Feel me?”

Was he kidding? With his hands cupping her face, his body buried within hers, she could feel nothing but him. “I feel you.” Closing her eyes, she escaped a little bit that way, a desperate attempt to bring this back to the purely physical act. And what a physical act it was.





Decimated from their lovemaking, Cooper watched Breanne sleep. A new experience. With Annie, he’d always gone home afterwards, to his own bed. With any others, he’d always run off before the condom even cooled.

Never in his life had he felt like sleeping with someone, as in actually closing his eyes and drifting off. Sleep was a personal thing, something one did alone.

Like jacking off.

But he didn’t feel like sleeping by himself. Truthfully, he didn’t feel like sleeping at all. He just wanted to hold her and look at her. Christ, he’d turned into such a sap.

Breanne hadn’t gone easily into slumber. She’d tossed and turned until he’d hauled her back against him, her spine and butt snug to his chest and crotch—a very nice position because it left him a free hand to caress. Now he pressed his face into the crook of her neck to inhale her intoxicating scent, and rubbed his thumb over her nipple.

In sleep she reacted, the tip hardening.

He wanted to wake her up.

But he knew how exhausted she was, mostly from stress, so instead, he kissed her shoulder and listened to her breathe, with no idea what he was doing, because this sure didn’t feel like a quick little ski bunny sort of thing.

It didn’t feel like a quick little anything.

He wondered if it was still snowing, if they’d indeed be able to shovel out tomorrow and get into town. Then there was the matter of the dead body.

Even as he thought it, from far, far below, somewhere in the house, came a very soft thud.

Cooper’s hackles rose. It was past midnight. Past the hour that Shelly would be making noise in the kitchen, or Dante would be doing whatever it was he did.

Maybe it was Lariana and Patrick with their habit of screwing in every room of the house. He didn’t know, but there would be no relaxing now until he made sure. He slipped out of the bed.

Breanne rolled to her belly, spread-eagle, hogging all the space and the blankets, which made him grin. “Be right back,” he whispered, but she didn’t move.

He slipped into his Levi’s, stuck his gun in the waistband, grabbed the flashlight he’d commandeered, and headed out.

The hallway was pitch black. He flicked on the flashlight, which didn’t help much, but he knew his way by now. The noise had come from somewhere downstairs; he knew this, though as he searched, he found nothing in the great room, the kitchen, or the dining room.

Nothing anywhere.

He was halfway back to his bed and Breanne when he remembered.

Edward.

Swearing, he whipped around, making his way to the servants’ quarters. The doors there were all shut, and silent. So was the cellar door. But the strand of his own hair he’d carefully draped across the jamb had fallen.

Someone had been in here.

Alert, he let himself in, shining the light down the stairs. “Hello?”

No one answered, but then again he hadn’t expected anyone to advertise the fact that they’d gone against his command to stay out of there.