Page 42 of Official

And now, we’ve decided not to pursue whatever this is between us.

The click of the door behind her is deafening, and I’m not sure how long I stare at it before I finally force myself into one of the cushioned chairs and sip straight from the champagne bottle.

It’s for the best—I know this deep down—but it doesn’t stop me from being so damn disappointed.

* * *

The next morning, I stand in front of Sam’s bedroom door, two gourmet coffees in hand from the fancy machine in the kitchen, and I deeply inhale like I’m about to pitch a new movie idea to the Hollywood gods.

All I could do last night was think of Sam.

Her tan skin against mine.

Her round ass in my hands.

The sounds she made while I drove into her with uncontrolled need.

She enjoyed it as much as I did.

But as I told her and myself last night, it’s for the best that we don’t let this come between us. We can enjoy the luxury suite, finish the trip, and head back to reality, where we never speak of yesterday, especially to Teddy. I’ve never seen him throw a punch, but I’m positive he’d do a lot worse if he found out I slept with his sister.

Fuck.

Grinding my jaw, I knock on her door as best I can with the hot drinks in my hand, then catch movement in my periphery.

Sam leans against the wall, her arms crossed. Her headphones are wrapped around her neck, and her smug grin is more amused than Jack Nicholson’s portrayal of the Joker.

“How long have you been standing there?” I grimace.

She pushes off the wall, and her grin widens with every step she takes toward me, her legs slick with sweat. Instead of it turning me off like it might for someone like JasonDouche, I’m fucking salivating like a dog.

She looks like she spent all morning rubbing oil on them.

“Long enough to place a bet with myself that it would take you seven whole minutes to knock on my door, and guess what? I won.”

“All right, all right. You caught me.” I laugh, but the sound quickly evaporates. When she looks at me, a shadow cast over her eyes, heat trickles down my body, and I fight the urge to adjust my pants. “I brought coffee.” I shove one mug at her.

“Thanks.” She accepts it as she brushes past me to open her door.

I’m frozen in place, catching a whiff of her body spray mixed with sweat. She’s drenched from head to toe like she took a dive in the pool, but I know she simply works that hard whether she’s in her home gym, the hotel fitness center, or outside.

I just never see it firsthand. In her videos, Sam lifts heavy weight, but she’s usually so put together.

Right now, the dampVdown the valley of her breasts shouldn’t be sexy, but it is. It really fucking is when it’s Sam.

“It’s okay to come in. I’ll keep my clothes on until after you leave.” She juts her hip out as she places her headphones on the dresser.

A strangled, incoherent sound escapes me, and I attempt to cover it with a cough.Get a grip, man.

“What’s up?” she asks, then takes a sip of coffee.

I cross the threshold into her room, noting the open suitcase in the corner that’s exploding with different colored fabrics and lace—fucking hell, her thongs are strewn across the top like they’re on display.

They screamcome hither.

How am I not supposed to look?

Okay, okay, I’m not a horny fifteen-year-old. I can have a mature conversation with myfriend—more importantly,Teddy’s sister.

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