“Come on, Lauren,” her sister urges. “I’m hungry.”

“Good seeing you again, Chloe.” Lauren wiggles her fingers in the air and walks past, smirk on her face, and says something to Sam as he passes by. I can’t be mad at Sam for hooking up with anyone last night, even if that person was Lauren Wallace. We’re not in a relationship, and he owes me nothing. I could have gone home with anyone last night and he couldn’t say boo about it.

And if anything, this proves that whatever Tiffany was talking about doesn’t matter. Maybe Sam really did look at me that way when we were younger, but it doesn’t matter now. He’s living his best life, and it’s not fair for me to hold that against him because I want him to live that best life with me.

But it does mean I have to remember that Sam has always been a player, and I’ve always accepted that. I’ve stood back and watched him date girl after girl, all the while wishing one of those girls was me. I know what he wants, but he’s going to have to get it from someone else. It’s tempting not to let this opportunity pass me by, but I have to stay strong. I have to remember: Once a player, always a player.

And Sam has brought his A-game.

Chapter Sixteen

Chloe

“Are you okay?” Sam asks after I re-tried the hidden key from Wendy’s porch.

“Yeah,” I rush out. “My shoulder just hurts.” It’s a lame excuse for me being rather quiet on the car ride to my dad’s house, but it’s all I can come up with right now. I spent most of the drive reminding myself I can’t be mad at Sam. I can’t consider him hooking up with Lauren another betrayal. He doesn’t seem to remember Lauren was a raging bitch to me in high school. I think only Farisha and my dad knew the extent of her bullying. I never hid things from Sam—except my love for him, of course—but I didn’t go rushing off to tell him a run-down of the mean comments Lauren said to me throughout the day.

“Maybe take an Advil or something.”

“I can do better.” I unlock the door and step inside. Sam follows, and I’m wishing I could uninvite him over. Okay, I don’t. But I should. I take my shoes off as I walk and end up tripping over my own feet. Sam dashes forward and catches me. His hands, already familiar with the curve of my waist, go right back to where they were only an hour or so ago.

He pulls me to him, crushing my breasts against his chest. He’s warm against me, and desire floods my body. Would it be so bad to give in and let him rock my world just this once?

Yes, Chloe, it would be bad. Terribly bad.

“Careful.” Sam’s deep voice rumbles through me and my lips part. Somehow my hands end up hooked around his neck, and he tightens his hold on me, pulling me so our hips brush against each other. I can feel the bulge of his cock through his athletic pants, and suddenly I’m getting weak in the knees.

“At least there wasn’t a ravine to fall down this time,” I say, voice all breathy.

“I’m glad I was there to catch you.”

“Y-yeah.” Wide-eyed, I lock gazes with Sam. My heart is racing and I’m starting to sweat again. I swallow hard, now worried my breath smells like the artichoke dip we just devoured.

Because I think Sam Harris is going to kiss me.

Then his phone rings, and he takes one hand off my side to fish it out of his pocket.

“Stacey again?” I ask, not wanting to be nosey, though I am a nosey person.

“No, it’s my mom.”

“Oh, well, you better answer it.”

“I can call her back.” Sam silences the call.

“What if it was important?” I slowly slide my hands to his chest, wishing he’d take his shirt off again.

“Then she’ll call again and then I will answer. She’s probably calling to ask what I think you’d like for dinner. They’re all pretty damn excited to have you over.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a family dinner with you all.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had one too.” We’re still in the foyer, and Sam sets his phone on the entryway table. His hand goes back to my waist and he flicks his eyes to my lips. If he kisses me, I’m done for. All it will take is a millisecond of him pressing his lips against mine to make me grab his hand and pull him into my bedroom.

But nope. I need to be strong, and the longer we stay like this, locked in each other’s embraces, the harder it’s going to be. I suck in a breath and move back, taking my hands off Sam’s shoulders.

“I’m, uh, going to find some…something.”

“Something?” Sam chuckles. “That’s specific.”

I just bob my head up and down quickly and go into the kitchen, opening the cabinet next to the microwave. It’s full of medications, sunscreen, and bug spray. The thing is organized chaos, and if there’s ever an apocalypse, Dad has his own mini-pharmacy right here.

Sam leans against the counter watching me. His gaze on me is intimate again, and I can feel my resolve slipping away beneath my feet. “I know they’re in here somewhere,” I mutter. “Dad never throws anything out.” I rustle through old pill bottles. “Ah-ha!” Smiling, I grab what I was looking for.

“Are you sure you should be taking expired muscle relaxers?” Sam asks, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that I so don’t notice his muscular biceps bulging against the sleeves of his black t-shirt.

“Are you sure you should be telling me what to do?” I retort and struggle to untwist the childproof lid.

“Well I’m a doctor, so when it comes to taking medication, yes. I should be telling you what to do, and taking old medication isn’t smart.”

“Touché,” I say with a forced smile, eyes narrowing. The last thing I need is Sam fucking Harris judging me. “It’s easy to forget you actually got accepted and then graduated from medical school.”

Sam laughs and plows a hand through his thick brown locks, messing them up in a way that looks way too fucking good on him. On anyone. His lips pull into a half-smile and his eyes meet mine. “With honors,” he adds. “Don’t forget that I graduated with honors.”

“Who’d you have to sleep with to get that?” I spit back, working hard to keep my composure. I will not crumble…I will not crumble…

“Whoever I damn well wanted to,” he says with a shrug. “Though that had nothing to do with my exceptionally good grades.” He parts his lips, tongue darting out to wet them. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and I wonder if this is a game to him, seeing how easily I’ll cave and fall back on our pact. He doesn’t want the night to end in marriage, no way, but he wants to get what he couldn’t before.

Me, naked in his bed. And dammit, I really want that too.

“Let me,” he says, closing the distance between us, and cups his hands around mine. It’s then I notice all over again just how grown up Sam has become. Where once stood a boy stands a man, and he’s all man now. He was always athletic before, but he’s filled out, thick with pounds of muscle. The boyish, playboy charm still sparkles in his eyes, but it’s peppered with something that alludes to experience, something that promises he knows his way around a woman’s body and he never disappoints.