My hands fly to my face. “Tell me I didn’t say that out loud.”
He walks past me toward a drawer, totally unfazed. “Afraid I can’t do that.”
“Kill me now,” I groan behind my fingers.
“Tempting,” he says, chuckling. “But I’m not quite finished enjoying this moment.”
I peek through my hands and see him grinning, towel still in place but barely.
And I know one thing for sure. This closet? Danger zone.
“You know,” I say, still peeking through my fingers, “this feels like entrapment.”
Sam raises an eyebrow as he tugs open a drawer, grabbing a pair of boxer briefs. “You walked into my closet, darlin’.”
“You walked into it looking like a Calvin Klein ad.”
He smirks, clearly enjoying this way too much. “I thought you said I looked like a Greek god.”
I groan and drop my hands from my face. “Sam.”
“Yes?”
“You’re being naughty.”
He turns to face me fully, still gloriously shirtless, still damp from the shower, and that damn towel hanging low on his hips like it’s been strategically designed to test my sanity.
And then he steps closer.
Not enough to touch. But enough to feel. The air between us warms, tightens, hums with something electric.
“I could be,” he says softly, eyes on mine, “but only if you want me to be.”
My breath catches, heat blooming from the center of my chest outward, rushing straight to where I’m weakest.
He looks down at me like he’s reading every thought I’ve tried to keep buried.
“Charlotte,” he says, my name rough on his lips.
I reach for the flannel still draped over my arm and clutch it to my chest like a shield.
“I should probably get dressed.”
His lips curve slowly. “That a yes or a no?”
I smile, breathless. “That’s a ‘yes’ to getting dressed.”
He nods, stepping back, towel still barely hanging on. “Alright. For now.”
And thefor now? It burns hotter than anything else.
Which is the only reason I can explain my next move.
I reach out, fingers curling around the edge of that traitorous towel. And I pull.
It drops.
Just like that.
