He was still inside her, not hard but not soft, either. Sinking his fingers into her hair, he forced her head back so that he could look at her. Suddenly his eyes weren't so sleepy. "Fun?"

She swallowed hard at the indescribable expression on his face. "Yeah, you know. As in, let's do it again sometime."

"Fun is eating ice cream. Fun is having a day off. Fun is a walk in the fucking park, Breanne."

"Um-"

"What we did was pretty far beyond fun. What we did was off the fun chart." He narrowed his eyes. "You wanted to know what was wrong with you?"

"Uh… no. I changed my mind." The tension he'd banished with an orgasm was back.

"Did you, now?" he murmured. "Interesting."

Around them the fire crackled, the house creaked, all assuring her that this was real, not some sort of fantasy dream. It was real and she had a man, still buried inside her, staring into her eyes, seeing things she wasn't ready for him to see, trying to get to the bottom of something she didn't want to discuss.

So she cheated. She tightened her thighs, as well as her inner muscles, and hugged him.

Immediately his eyes went opaque. Almost helplessly, he thrust up with his hips. "No fair," he whispered.

Which is why she did it again.

This time he closed his eyes and groaned. "Let me guess. You want some more fun."

"Good guess," she murmured, and leaned in for a kiss, squeaking in surprise when instead he surged to his feet, still holding her wrapped around him. With a hand on her butt, the other still fisted in her hair at her back, he headed toward the bed. "You're not going to rush me this time," he warned her, and before she could say otherwise, he let go of her.

She fell through the air and hit the mattress, bouncing twice.

She rolled to her belly to crawl away, just as a new condom landed right in front of her nose.

Lemon yellow. In spite of herself, her entire body tightened in anticipation.

"But first," he said silkily, holding her down with a hand low on her spine. "Back to that critique of your performance."

"No, I-"

"I'm not sure what you've been told before," he went on, unconcerned with the fact that she'd gone stiff and unhappy. "So we'll start at the beginning."

No way was she going to stick around for this. Surging up to her hands and knees to crawl away, she said through her teeth, "I told you, I changed my mind-"

Snagging her ankle, he held on with a grip she couldn't shake off, though she tried with the sudden strength of a samurai warrior.

He merely caught her other ankle and slowly dragged her back across the mattress, with her fighting the whole way. Kicking didn't help; he had a hold on her that didn't allow for it, though she gave it her best.

"Oh, go ahead and play dirty," he said conversationally, not even winded, the bastard. "I'm used to fighting dirty."

Gripping onto the covers gave her no traction at all as she was hauled closer and closer to her greatest source of stress. "Damn it, Cooper. Let me go-"

He simply yanked her the last few inches, then flipped her over, switching his grip from her ankles to her thighs, effortlessly holding her down, leaning over her to see directly into her face.

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-"

"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.

Edward was beginning to smell bad.

Bending down, Cooper tried not to inhale as he looked over the body. Because of the cellar's icy temps, decomposition had begun slowly, but it had begun. "Your bruises are surfacing," he murmured, especially the long, dark bruise now accompanying the gash on the forehead. There was another bruise just below the Adam's apple. Cooper knew if he unbuttoned Edward's shirt, he'd see another across his chest.

The lines of the stairs, where he'd hit them face-first.

"Were you pushed?" he wondered out loud. "Or was it a terrible accident?"

And who'd moved him from the bottom of the stairs to his current spot?

And how had he gotten the hole in his damn chest?

Questions he really had no right to ask, but the cop in him just wouldn't let it rest. With a sigh, he rose, looking around.

There was no clue as to who'd come in here, or why, but at least the body didn't appear to have been moved.

He thought of Breanne asleep in the honeymoon suite, trusting him to keep her safe. He wasn't exactly sure when it had happened, but he trusted her, too.

Almost as unnerving as the dead body at his feet. "Hang tight, Edward," he said, and made his way back upstairs, to the warm woman waiting there for him.

Okay, so she wasn't waiting so much as snoring lightly into his pillow.

But he'd take that.

He'd take her.

She let out a soft "Mmm" when he slipped back into the bed, sleepily moving into his arms. "Cooper?" she whispered groggily.

Who the hell did she think it was? "Yeah," he said, tucking her beneath him, making himself at home between her thighs. "Me."