“You have your own bathroom.”
I’m met with silence. I step out into the hall, prepared to leave the door open so the cold air ruins the warm, steamy room for him.
“I hope your balls shrink up while you’re sleeping!” I hiss over my shoulder.
A deep voice sends chills over my exposed skin. “Good morning to you too, sis.”
Sam.
My legs feel wobbly. The towel rack creaks behind me. I stammer over my words, not finding a single thing to throw back at him. My tongue is tied, and my skin is on fire.
Sam is naked. In my shower.
“Nice PJs,” he says.
I run, like a total coward. Once I reach the kitchen, I’m panting from more than just physical exertion. My glasses are clear now, and Duke is fiddling with the coffee machine. He turns around, eyes narrowing on my pajamas. His hair is wet like he just showered.
“Go change into something appropriate. Sam is here. I don’t want him seeing you in that.”
I roll my eyes at him. He turns back to the coffee machine.
“Why is he here?”
“He needed to let off some steam. Holden picked us up from Old Harry’s last night, but he wouldn’t let us bring the girls we’d met home.” He shakes his head. “Now go change. He’s in your shower.”
Girls. They met girls.
I turn around, marching back to my room with my head down. The bathroom door is closed, thankfully. I slam my room door shut. I’m tempted to bury my head in my covers and rot in bed the entire day, but then Sam would leave.
That’s good. Screw him. He should leave.
I pull on a simple cotton summer dress with blue ruffles around the hem. It’s short, hitting my mid-thigh. I quickly swipe on some mascara, lip gloss, brow gel, and blush before running a brush through my long, straight ebony hair. It’s thick, and it reaches down to the middle of my back, so I usually do something to keep it off my neck. Today, I decide to leave it loose and braid a few small pieces in the front. I leave my glasses on my vanity.
I stop by my empty bathroom, making sure it’s empty, before I go in to pee and brush my teeth. Male voices from the kitchen travel down the hallway as I’m gargling mouthwash. I struggle with my contacts, eventually getting them into my eyes.
“We should definitely go this weekend. Let’s invite a few people,” Duke says.
I walk out into the hall, casually approaching the kitchen.
“I guess we can. Who do you want to come? I don’t want people destroying the place.” Sam is leaning back against the kitchen island. He’s dressed in a plain white T-shirt and a pair of Duke’s gray sweatpants. His wavy copper-brown hair is still wet. His big hand is holding a mug of coffee up to his chest.
His ocean-colored eyes inch up over me, starting at my toes and traveling up my legs and torso until finally reaching my face. Chills run down my spine at his perusal. His expression is steady, but unreadable. He’s been letting his facial hair grow out recently, and the desire I feel to scratch my fingernails through his short reddish-brown beard is making me feral.
“I was just thinking Madi, Shayley, and a few of the guys.” Duke pulls a mug out of the cabinet and pours coffee in it. “It’s so damn hot. What else are we going to do all weekend?”
“Where are y’all going?” I ask.
Duke holds the new mug out toward me. “Sam’s lake house.”
I take the coffee and move to open the fridge door.
I need to secure an invitation.
The caramel creamer is on the first shelf. I grab it, pouring a generous amount into my coffee before pulling a spoon from the drawer to stir it.
“Let’s just bring people who are chill,” Sam suggests.
“Like who?”
