Sam

The Merlin room wasn’t so bad. The shower was amazing. Sam wished she wasn’t so tired or she would have stayed under the jet-powered showerhead until the water ran cold. For a place that looked like Beast’s castle, it sure had state-of-the-art features. Like plumbing and heated floors. And there were so many buttons on the toilet she didn’t know which one to push. Who has a remote control for a toilet?

Being clean had lightened Sam’s mood so much that she gave in and slipped into the silk nightgown. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror and cringed. The material was soft and luxurious, but she looked like Wendy from Peter Pan. Screw it. Half the town had seen her dressed in her nappy travel clothes and Uggs. The nightgown was just the icing on the cake.

Sam decided to pretend she didn’t look humiliating and finished getting ready for bed. She found a toothbrush, toothpaste, contact solution and a travel case in the perfectly labeled drawers in the bathroom. Devon was right, this place was stocked with everything. She found her glasses in her purse and put them on, before hopping into bed to boot up her laptop. She was about to see if Megan was online when she noticed the low battery light flashing. Sam rifled through the drawers to find a UK adapter for her power cord. No luck. Guess this place doesn’t have everything . . .

Sam scowled at the door. Devon probably had an adapter, or at least could help her find one. But that meant she’d have to suck up her pride and ask him nicely. And that was the last thing she wanted to do. At least she thought it was. She still hated him, but her mind kept wandering back to that kiss. That Olympic kiss!

She was seriously confused by Devon. On one hand he was still the same jerk who tormented her when they were kids, but he was also this new jerk, who was ridiculously handsome, opened doors for her, paid for her drinks, gave her his sweater and took the blame for an accident she caused. Not to mention that when she’d gotten him drunk he confided how scared he was about losing his father.

Damn it! Sam was the one who should be apologizing to Devon.

Loosing a parent wasn’t something she couldn’t exploit. And Devon seemed genuinely worried. He was going to need a friend. Sam knew from experience how bad it hurt to lose a parent to cancer. The least she could do was be there for Devon after what she’d put him through tonight. She’d have to find another way to get back to Boston. Besides, there were probably dozens of bad boys at Eddington who’d help her get the job done. Unfortunately, Devon wasn’t one of them.

Devon

Devon’s heart leapt when he heard a knock at his bedroom door. He hoped it was Sam. It was torture knowing she was just across the hall from him. He quickly towel dried his hair, then wrapped the towel around his waist.

When he opened the door he couldn’t help but smirk. Sam was standing there wearing the ridiculous grandma nightgown. It made her look like a little kid again, and all his boyhood feelings came rushing to the surface.

“Hey,” she said. “Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you had a power adapter I can borrow so I can charge my laptop and phone?”

“Yeah, one second,” he said slipping back into the room and closing the door. He dug around in his desk drawer and found an adapter, then slipped back into the hall. “Sorry,” he said, noticing the strange look Sam was giving him. “I’d invite you in, but my dog’s in there and he’s not good with strangers. He’d probably wake up the whole house and Cara already hates him as it is.”

“Okay,” Sam said, still studying him.

“Here.” Devon offered her the adapter.

“Thanks.” Sam closed her fingers around it.

Their hands brushed for a moment and Devon felt every cell she touched ignite.

They both stood there silently, lingering outside his door. Sam looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. She just stood there, gazing at him like she’d forgotten what she’d been about to say. Devon didn’t trust himself to ask her what she was thinking. Besides, his mind was so clouded with thoughts of kissing her that he could scarcely think himself.

He was suddenly aware that he was standing inches away from Sam in nothing but a towel. Not a good choice, considering the way his body reacted to her. But if he didn’t know better, he could swear Sam liked what she saw. Her eyes roved to his chest, then lower. It might be wishful thinking . . . but then again . . .

Devon took a risk—tonight couldn’t get any worse. He reached up and brushed a stray hair from Sam’s face. Her dark hair was still damp and it slipped through his fingers like ribbons of chocolate. The sensation made her shiver.

“Sam,” he said softly. “About tonight . . .” He moved his hand to gently cup her cheek and her breath caught. “Kissing you was . . . really nice.”

She brought her hand up to his, laying her fingers over his. For a moment he thought she was leaning into his touch, but then she pulled his hand away from her face. “It was,” she said giving him a half smile, while she continued to hold his hand. “But it can’t happen again.”

“Why?”

“Devon, it’s late. And we’ve both been drinking.” She let go of his hand and tried to turn back toward her room.

He grabbed her hands, gently pulling her back to him. “Drinking or no, there’s some things I need to say to you, Sam.”

“Devon,” she warned trying to pull her hands free. “Please don’t.”

“I have to, Sam. Ever since I found out you were coming back, I’ve been thinking about all the things I want to say to you.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Devon.”

But I do! I have to tell you that I’ve never stopped thinking about you and I’m fucking in love with you!

Christ! He wished he could just get those words out of his mouth. They were expanding in his chest like they might explode if he didn’t say them. But he wasn’t good with words. He was good with his tongue and his hands, and he really just wanted to skip to that part.

“Honestly, Devon. You don’t owe me anything. I don’t even know you.”

Her words hit him like a slap in the face. “But, don’t you want to?”

“What I really want is to go to bed and pretend that tonight never happened. Can we please just start over tomorrow, Devon?”

It felt like that window in his chest, the one that let in all the air and light when he first saw her, was closing. And taking everything that mattered with it.

“Sure, Sam. If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

“Okay,” he conceded.

“Goodnight, Devon.”

“Goodnight, Sam.”