fine, okay? In fact, I'm quite exhausted.' She made a big show out of stretching and yawning really wide, before putting her hands to his chest and pushing so she could stand up.
Only she didn't budge him.
'Excuse me,' she said.
'You're going to sleep.'
'Yep.'
'Right now.'
'That's right.'
At that he backed up, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, the picture of an irritated, frustrated, sexy-as-hell man.
She made a big deal out of climbing up onto the high bed and tugging down the white down comforter. 'Shut the door on your way out.'
'You're going to sleep in those fuck-me boots and Lariana's clothes?'
Her own personal armor, and yes, she was going to sleep in them if that's what it took. 'I'm sorry if the boots misled you today,' she said primly.
'Trust me, it wasn't the boots. Though they are something-' Saying so, he moved forward and took hold of one.
Before she could kick him, he'd flipped her to her back, but instead of flattening her down on the bed with his body as she'd figured, he began to undo the boot with a quiet calm.
'Watch out,' she warned. 'Have you seen the heels on these things?'
'Shh.' He'd bent his head to the task, and she might have melted at the unexpected sweetness of the gesture except he drove her crazy.
'If you shh me one more time…' she warned.
Lifting his head, he smiled grimly as the first boot came off and he tossed it over his shoulder. 'You'll what?'
Damn it, she had no idea what.
'Come on, Breanne. Finish the threat-I'm all ears.'
'Shut up,' she said, utterly without rancor because he was looking at her with such genuine warmth and affection that her mad drained right out of her.
People she'd known all her life didn't look at her like that, yet he did. She didn't know what to do with him. 'I wish you'd go away,' she whispered, confusion and exhaustion, not emotion, creating a lump in her throat. She had no emotion left.
Or so she told herself.
He went very still, staring at her for a long moment before lifting his hands from her and taking his weight off the mattress. 'You know where to find me if you need me.'
'I won't.' With only one boot off, she turned over into a little ball and closed her eyes tight, not relaxing until she heard the door shut behind him.
'It's locked,' he said through it. 'Keep it that way.'
Sleep didn't come as easily as it had the night before. For the longest time she lay there, muscles sore from holding herself so tense. The fire crackled. The walls creaked.
So did a floorboard.
Uneasy, she sat up, her gaze frantically searching out each corner of the room.
No floating face.
No boogeyman.
Nothing.
And yet she was in this house with a dead body. And someone who'd made him dead.
She lay back down, but that lasted only until the next mysterious creak.
Damn bad time to have given up men.
Then, from somewhere in the house, came an odd, indistinguishable sound. Not the house creaking, but she couldn't place it. Again she sat up.
She'd definitely been hasty in sending Cooper away. Truth was, she didn't have to give up men as long as she did one thing-hold on to her heart and soul for all they were worth, never letting them go.
For anyone.
Hoping she was right, she slipped out of bed and slowly cracked open her door. The hallway was pitch black- not a sound, not even a whisper of air. She couldn't see all the way to the honeymoon suite where her salvation lay in one tall, hard, gorgeous package.
Couldn't see anything.
That's when the house creaked again.
Goose bumps rose over her skin, fear bubbled in her throat, and she ducked back into her room looking for a flashlight or a candle or something.
But the candles had burned down to stubs and Lariana hadn't replaced them. She'd had the fire for light and that had been enough. Stumbling into the bathroom, she went straight to the gift basket and fumbled for the vibrator that had reappeared.
At the next creak of the walls, she gasped, gripped the vibrator out in front of her like a beacon, and bolted for the honeymoon suite, limping in her one high-heeled boot.
This time she didn't jump Cooper in the bed. She didn't have to because he wasn't in it.
Shirtless, wearing only a pair of jeans low on his hips, he stood facing his own fireplace, hair rumpled, feet bare. For a moment she hung onto the doorjamb staring at him, a yearning welling up within her so strong she didn't know what to do with it.
What was it about him? Granted, he had an amazing body. His back was sinewy and sleek, broad and sculpted, tapering in at his waist and hips. And that butt… Lord, she just wanted to bite it.
Only it wasn't her body that tingled at the sight of him, but something deep inside.
'You going to shut the door?' he asked without turning around.
With a sigh, she did, no longer surprised that he seemed to have eyes in the back of his head because she was getting used to that sense of awareness he had. She imagined he'd honed it over the years of being a cop.
Craning his neck, he finally looked at her, taking in her makeshift flashlight. 'You need me to show you how to work that thing?'
'In your dreams.'
'Oh yeah, in my dreams.' He sighed and rubbed his forehead as if she gave him a headache by just being.
She had to admit it was entirely possible that she was a walking/talking headache inducer. 'I, um, forgot to tell you something.'
'Well, then.' He turned toward her and slipped his hands in his pockets. The movement shifted his jeans even lower on his hips, gaping away slightly from his rippled abs that she always wanted to touch. 'I'm all ears, Princess.'
Actually, he was all solid, tough muscle, but she wasn't going to point that out.
He jerked a shoulder toward the fire. 'Come here.'
Yeah, colossally bad idea. 'Don't you want to know what 1 forgot to tell you?'
'I want you to be warm.'
His words made her realize she was hugging herself, and extremely chilled. 'Getting close to you is bad for my mental health.'
'And yet you're here instead of with anyone else in the house.' He waggled his fingers. 'Come on.'
