Get A Clue Read online

  been a helluva lot better than nice.”

  She looked so intrigued he wrapped a finger around the pink angora tie beneath her breasts and tugged.

  But she put her finger on the bow, preventing it from slipping out of its knot. “That’s the only thing holding the sweater on.”

  “Is it?” He tugged again.

  She held onto the bow. “Want to know a secret?”

  “If it involves being naked.”

  “I’ve always had this closet fantasy . . .” She whispered this softly, as if she found the suggestion almost too naughty to bear.

  But nothing was too naughty for Cooper, and though he’d been hard since she first yanked him in here, his jeans got even tighter.

  “But if you’d rather go back to the bedroom—”

  “No, let’s stay in your fantasy.” Taking her hands, he brought them down to her sides, urging them to grasp onto the shelf at her hips.

  Both excitement and nervousness filled her eyes, but she held the shelf and let him pull on the string of her sweater until it popped free.

  The sweater sagged in front where it was crisscrossed. A little nudge with his finger and it fell open, exposing a siren-red lace number that shot him from zero to sixty in one second flat.

  “It’s my other honeymoon number,” she said softly. “It was my only fresh underwear.”

  He realized it was a one-piece, and the thought of following the lace all the way down between her legs made his mouth go dry. “It’s amazing,” he managed to say, tracing the edging between her breasts, watching her nipples react, poking through the material.

  Letting go of the shelf, she slipped her hands beneath his shirt and laid them on his belly, making him suck in a harsh breath.

  “What?”

  “Cold hands,” he whispered, tugging her sweater to her elbows.

  With a breathless huff of laughter, she danced those cold fingers up his chest, then back down. “I love your body,” she said, as if imparting another state secret. Her sweater was at her elbows, one narrow strap of her red lace off a creamy shoulder. “Especially your stomach.” She stroked his abs. “Do you like to be touched like this?”

  “More than breathing.”

  Again she laughed; then, holding his shirt up, she flicked her tongue over his nipple, making him thunk his head back against a rack of VHS tapes.

  Stopping the exquisite torture, she glanced at him, then slowly sank to her knees.

  His heart jerked hard. So did the rest of him, one part in particular.

  “I, um, was wondering,” she whispered as she set her mouth to his quivering abs. She kissed his belly button, then lower, at the edge of his jeans. “If you’d like it if I kissed the rest of you.”

  He undid his jeans so fast his head spun. “Kiss away,” he said hoarsely.

  At the first feel of her lips in the opened wedge of his jeans, he jerked again.

  “Shh,” she murmured with a seductive, knowing smile, enjoying finally being the one to shush him. Her hands fisted in the waistband of the denim. Slowly she pulled.

  He moaned, and she smiled against his skin; then, in a move that made him yelp with surprise, she sank her teeth into his hip.

  His reaction made her lose it. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, sitting back on her heels, covering her mouth. “I don’t know why, but I had to do that. I couldn’t help myself.” She went to lean forward again, leading with her mouth, but he stopped her.

  “You got that biting thing out of your system, right?” he asked warily.

  Her eyes were lit with humor and heat. An amazingly sexy combination. “Promise.” Her hands brushed his away, then slid back into his jeans.

  “You liked this,” she murmured, stroking the length of him.

  “It’s pretty much a given I’m going to like anything you do to me.”

  “Sure?” She stroked him again, letting out a sexy little hum while doing it. Then she licked her lips.

  Oh, man. He had to close his eyes. “So damn sure—Jesus.”

  She’d taken her hot, wet tongue on a happy tour. Gripping the shelves behind him for dear life, he did his best not to humiliate himself, but her mouth . . . Unable to keep standing, he sank to his knees and reached for her jeans.

  In the charged air was the sound of their heavy breathing and the rasp of her zipper. They stared at each other as he pulled the denim down.

  A pink condom fell out of her pocket.

  “I’m resourceful,” she whispered.

  “I love resourceful women,” he whispered back, tugging her legs out from beneath her so he could strip her jeans to her thighs. Reaching between them, he toyed with the snaps of her teddy while she sucked in a breath. With one pull, all three snaps came free.

  “Now,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, now.” But her jeans caught on her boots. They spent another breathless moment fighting their clothes, laughing like idiots, and finally, finally, she was in his lap facing him, her thighs opened and draped over his.

  By the time she helped him roll on the condom, he was trembling and already on the edge. “Slow,” he said, hands to her hips, lifting her up, guiding himself inside her.

  “Fast,” she corrected, then let out a gorgeous sound of helpless desire when he thrust up.

  “Yes,” she said fiercely, rocking her hips.

  He’d wanted to take his time with her, draw it out, lose the both of them in the moment, but she didn’t let that happen—she never let that happen. She wanted the kick and she wanted it now.

  And buried so deeply within her that he could feel her heart beating in his ears, or maybe that was his own, he was in no position to slow them down. In a last desperate move, he gripped her oscillating hips. “Keep that up, and it’s going to be over before we even get started.”

  “We started already. God, Cooper, I love to watch you lose it.”

  Just the words nearly accomplished that, and he tried to adjust his slippery grip on her hips. But she kept moving them, arching, rocking. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Bree—”

  “More,” she panted. “God, please. More.”

  Ah, hell, he was a goner. All he could do was hold on and meet her thrust for thrust, closing his eyes to savor her clutching heat, quivering as he fought the orgasm building like a bus barreling down the highway. But he couldn’t keep his eyes closed; he wanted to see her. Her head had fallen back, her skin gleaming. “Breanne.”

  Lifting her head, she opened her eyes, too, adding an unexpected intimacy Cooper hadn’t expected. It hit him like a one-two punch. Her gaze was clear and open, allowing him to see more of her than she’d ever allowed him. Trusting.

  His throat tightened. “Bree—God. I’m going to—”

  “I know—” Her voice was tight. Strangled. “Me, too—” That was all she managed to get out as she exploded in a series of shudders that milked his own climax out of him. Vaguely he heard her cry out his name, and thought . . . love the sound of that, before the roaring of his own blood in his ears overtook all rational brain activity.

  When it was over, they slumped together, breathing like misused racehorses. Breanne stirred, lifted her head from his shoulder. Her hair had rioted, sticking to her damp face, but her victorious smile said it all. “That was very . . . nice,” she said mischievously, using the word he’d objected to. “Yes, nice just about covers it.”

  In answer, he lightly slapped her on the bare ass, making her laugh and hug him so tight he could hardly breathe.

  But breathing was overrated, anyway, and he hugged her back. “Let’s get the hell out of here and back into that suite so I can start all over again and do it right.”

  “No can do.” She stood on wobbly legs. “We have to dig out.”

  Oh, yeah. They were getting out today. Going their separate ways, which she wanted.

  He wanted that, too.

  He just couldn’t remember why.

  Twenty-three

  You have the right to remain silent. Anything you