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Catie’s made a career out of lies. Sam’s a cocky sportswriter with a reputation. Will a fake relationship to save her career ignite their love or burn them in flames?
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It’s been an exhausting day. My emotions are heightened, and all I want to do is go to bed and forget about this feeling of loneliness that settled while talking to Max and thinking of Sam. Unfortunately, all my toiletries are in the bathroom, where Sam is probably cursing me out in his head as he showers.
When the water stops running, I bang on the door. It flies open. Sam has his hand on the frame, scowling. I flick my eyes to the towel wrapped around his waist, then to his muscled abs and the little trail of hair below his belly button.
He’s fit, hot, and perfect. Physically. I remind myself there’s more to a man than his looks.
Still, my heart quickens its beat.
“I can wait.” I swallow.
“No, please come in. Make yourself at home, Mrs. Bloom.”
“You’re in a mood.” Bristling, I grab my toothbrush from my pile of toiletries spread chaotically across the bathroom counter.
“Am I? Well, I did just catch my wife almost kissing another man.” Sam uses a small towel to roughly dry his hair, his chest muscles flexing as he does.
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen Sam without a shirt on—in his office, he often does a quick change from the previous day’s shirt after spending the night somewhere that is not his apartment. See? Total scoundrel—but being this close to his half-naked body is visceral.
“No I wasn’t,” I said, anger spiking. “Max is damaged and I was comforting him.”
“You’re getting a little too into the role-playing.” I scrub vigorously at my teeth.
“This isn’t a game, Catie. This is my life.” Sam whips off his towel.
Do not look down.
But I do. It’s quick. Just a snap of my eyes, but I see him. All of him. And I shove my toothbrush back in my mouth, stifling a moan. My cheeks flare bright red. Finally, he puts his boxers on. But they’re short and tight. I keep my eyes firmly on his face, focusing on the fight.
But he notices my red cheeks, my nipples tightening into peaks under my top. He moves next to me at the sink.
“I know that,” I manage, my voice catching. “It’s my life, too.”
His hand slides up my arm, every cell igniting where he touches. My toothbrush hangs from my mouth. I’m frozen in place. We tease and flirt, but Sam never touches me. Not like this.
His fingers move across waist, and my tummy flip-flops. His fingers dig in and he pulls me against his hard torso. Electric shocks slice through me, warming my insides.
He tilts his head, his lips to my ear. The toothbrush clatters into the sink.
“If you want to be kissed, I can kiss you.”
My mouth is full of toothpaste and I spit it out and wipe my mouth with the back of my mind.
“Don’t.” I mean for it to be forceful, but it comes out wobbly.
His breath is hot on my ear, tickling. “This isn’t just about you. It’s about your sister, and Patrick, and me. Don’t ruin everything with a stupid kiss.”
He spins me toward him, my breasts grazing his bare chest. My body has been taken over by a heady lust. I’ve denied this for years, and it was easy when the temptation was kept at bay and I had physical and mental barriers between us. But he’s breaking the rules and my willpower is crumbling.
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