"One minute!" Sam calls back. He climbs off of me and I mourn the loss of his weight. I sit up and pull my shirt down to cover my stomach.
"You look fucking incredible in my underwear," Sam murmurs with a wry smile, and I swat his arm with a giggle. Tuck knocks again.
"Just wait a minute, will you?!" Sam yells again, his fingers raking through his hair. I grab my skirt and start searching for my purse.
"I put your bag on the night table," Sam whispers and I rush into the bedroom and grab it.
"What do I do?" I ask him, completely flustered. I know I can't handle Tuck finding me here, now, in yesterday's clothes, not to mention Sam's underwear. No, I can't handle the knowing look, or the vulgar teasing. I stare at Sam, desperate for his directive.
"It's fine, Ror. I had them unlock the adjoining door this morning."
I breathe an audible sigh of relief and start to pad toward my room, grateful that Sam had the forethought to get me access. He's like Cam in that way. Always thinking ahead, always considering me and my needs.
Sam grabs my hand as I pass and tugs me back to him before I can make my escape. "This," he gestures between our bodies, "isn't over," he says meaningfully.
I nod helplessly. It's difficult to focus with him shirtless right in front of me.
He releases my hand and I continue to my room, glancing back at Sam and laughing softly when he adjusts himself inside his jeans. I quietly open both doors, and sure enough, they're unlocked. I close them carefully behind me and lean back against mine.
Holy fuck was that intense.
I've never felt such lust.
I've never felt suchlove.
I jump when I realize I can hear through the hotel room wall.
"Dude, whatthe actual fuck?What took so long?" Tuck asks, exasperated, his voice barely muffled by the wall between us.
"I just got out of the shower," Sam replies nonchalantly.
I shouldn't listen. Eavesdropping is a terrible habit. My mother said so.
I do it anyway.
"Your hair isn't wet," Tuck observes.
"Did you need something?"
I hear an exasperated sigh. "Dude, Carl is driving me nuts!"
Sam chuckles. "My guess is the feeling is mutual."
"Caaaapppp," Tuck whines.
"What would you like me to do about it?" he asks patronizingly, like he's talking to a child.
"I don't know! Maybe get Pine to talk some sense into her? One minute she's all over me and the next she hates me. And sometimes she's all over me even when she hates me and I don't know what the hell to do with that!" Tuck is as frustrated with his relationship - if you can even call it that - as the rest of us are, apparently.
"Did you try to talk to her about it?" Sam asks rationally.
"Of course not. What am I supposed to say? Stop being a crazy bitch?"
"I wouldn't suggest those exact words, no. But maybe, just maybe, if you admit to her that you care about her as more than a fuck buddy, it might help the situation," Sam suggests.
"I told her she's my favorite hookup!" Tuck says this as if it's some heartfelt declaration of affection.
"Again, not the words I would have suggested," Sam replies. "Well maybe I'm wrong. Is that really all she is to you? Because it doesn't seem like it to me, and I've known you a long time, Tuck."
