“Is this your room?”
He glances over his shoulder. “Yeah.”
“No guest rooms?”
“None that are ready.”
“Where are you sleeping?”
“The couch.”
My lips part. “That’s not fair. I can sleep on the couch. Really, I don’t mind.”
“It’s warmer in here, darlin’.”
“Which is why you should stay.”
He shakes his head.
I glance at the bed, the blurt out, “We could sleep in the bed together.”
His lips twitch into something just shy of a grin, eyes glinting in the dark.
“You tryin’ to get me in bed, darlin’?”
“Not like that!” I blurt, horrified and instantly mortified.Heat crawls up my neck, spilling across my cheeks as I fumble for dignity. “I just meant it’s cold, and the bed’s huge. You probably built it for giants, and I wouldn’t even notice you were there, honestly.”
He chuckles, low and smooth, the sound curling in the small space between us. “Sure.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Maybe a little,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances at the bed. “But I wasn’t raised to put a woman out of her comfort just to spare mine.”
I cross my arms, the blanket still draped over my shoulders like a cape. “What if I’m offering?”
That makes him pause.
His expression shifts. It’s not playful now, but careful. Like he’s considering something heavier beneath the teasing.
“Charlotte…” he starts, his voice lower. “Are you sure?”
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “I’m sure I don’t want you freezing to death on that couch while I hog all the warmth in your bed. That’s what I’m sure of.”
We stand there for a beat, the air thick with something unspoken.
Then, quietly, he nods. “Alright. Just sleep, though.”
“Just sleep,” I echo, a little too fast.
I climb into the bed, curling up on one side. Sam closes the door and then settles on the other side. We lie there, a wide, warm space between us, but I feel every breath he takes.
Just sleep. That’s the plan.
But my mind has other ideas.
No matter how hard I try to focus on anything else, it keeps circling back to him. That photo shoot he did forPeoplewhere he was shirtless, standing waist-deep in water.Droplets sliding down his chest like they belonged there, clinging to those sculpted muscles and the faint dusting of hair that trails down his abdomen. His pants were riding so low I could see the deep cut that some guys have.
I shift, my thighs clenching involuntarily as a slow, insistent ache curls low in my belly.
