Jill Shalvis - Get a Clue

He gave her a funny look. "I think I can manage."

Glancing uneasily toward the door, she nodded, having no choice but to trust him. "'Kay, then." Her voice wavered only slightly. "Let's go."

"Hey." Stepping close until their thighs bumped, he reached out and slowly, purposely, stroked a finger over her hairline, across her temple, ostensibly to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. She didn't buy that, though, not with the way he was looking at her, as if maybe he was starving and she was a twelve-course meal, as if maybe he could gobble her up in one sitting.

Odd how that made her knees wobble, as did the way his own breathing wasn't any more steady than hers. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

"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.

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?"

"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.

They headed back the way they'd come, through the dark, cedar-fragrant hallway, the pictures and equipment on the wall unnerving now instead of quaint. Halfway, Cooper stopped at the third door on the left, his body tense and still.

"What-"

He broke off her question with a finger to her lips, his eyes dark and unreadable.

She heard it then, the soft scuffle from the other side of the door.

Goose bumps rose on her body as she turned to face the door, and so did the hair on her neck. Was it the person who went with the scary face? Just the thought had her letting out an involuntary whimper, but Cooper was right behind her, a hand on her shoulder now as from the other side of the door came an unexpected sound-an extremely female moan. It didn't sound sinister, it sounded-

"Oh, Patrick…" floated through the door in a sexy, familiar Latin accent.

Lariana .

“You like that, darlin'?" came an answering Scottish voice.

"Oh, my God, yes," Lariana gasped.

"Then how about this?"

“Yes! Yes, that, too. There. There!"

Breanne stared at the wood as a banging came next. "That's…"

"The headboard hitting the wall," Cooper said in her ear.

"Oh." She felt her face heat. "Right."

This was followed by some indescribable, embarrassingly earthy moans and more cries, and then the sound of wet flesh slapping on wet flesh.

Patrick and Lariana were getting lucky.

On her honeymoon.

If that wasn't just perfect, she didn't know what was, and she took a step backwards, right into the hard wall of Cooper's chest.

Just like that, the night changed. Or the darkness did, anyway, somehow becoming richer, deeper, encircling the two of them with an air of intimacy she hadn't counted on as the heavy panting on the other side of the door continued.

"Sounds like fun," Cooper whispered, stroking a finger over the back of her neck.

Now her goose bumps weren't from fear, but something else entirely. She began to heat up, and apparently so did things behind the door.

"Come," Patrick demanded of Lariana in a rough Scottish voice. "Come for me."

Breanne liked sex-sometimes she even loved sex-but she'd never had a guy tell her what to do in bed, or demand an orgasm from her. It sounded pretentious, rough, and… embarrassingly arousing. Her nipples' hardened, her belly quivered, and her thighs tightened. Annoyed at herself for the reaction, not to mention desperate to hide it from the man behind her, she tightened her grip on the sheet wrapped around her. She was done with men, damn it, done, done, done. She did not want one in her life, she did not want one in her bed, telling her what to do or otherwise.

"Come for me right now."

Oh, jeez.

"Yes!" Lariana screamed the word into the night, the rhythmic banging turning even more frantic; along with it came Patrick's low, serrated groan, and then… complete and utter silence.

Breanne whipped around to face Cooper.

His eyes burned as they held hers, and in a rare anomaly, she found herself speechless. Pushing past him, she fumbled her way down the hall and into the honeymoon suite. Stopping short, she stared at the large, lush bed and swallowed hard. Her body felt hot from the inside out, sort of achy and pulsing, and she didn't get it.

What had happened to her fear,?

"It got to you," Cooper said softly, almost silkily, from right behind her.

She stepped away from him because she couldn't think when he was that close. "That ridiculous exhibition? Please. I've heard better on any number of porn flicks."

"It got to you," he repeated, then smiled. "But let's hear more about these porn flicks."

"This isn't funny." She hugged the sheet tighter to her body.

Again he came up behind her, not touching her in any way, but she couldn't miss that delicious body heat if she tried. Dipping his head low, he leaned in and inhaled her. "You smell so good," he murmured.

She'd powdered and lotioned and primped good before the wedding, but if any of it had held to her skin through all the fear and panic and humiliation of her day, she'd be shocked. "I do not."