Easing her head back against the rim of the bath, Delaney closed her eyes. The water was warm and soothing, sweetly scented with her favorite mango bath gel. Slowly she felt the tension ease from her limbs.
She’d spent the night agonizing over whether she was doing the right thing or not and mourning the loss of her friendship with Sam. Because that was inevitable. Once he learned the next stage in her plan—that she was going to sell her apartment—he would understand what she was doing: cutting him out of her life. And then things would really get ugly.
No one liked to be rejected, least of all by the person they trusted more than anyone else in all the world—and she knew she was that person for Sam, just as he was for her. She was going to hurt him so much. But she felt as though she was fighting the battle of her life—and if she lost, she would have to give up on having a full and complete existence and resign herself to remaining Sam’s faithful, reliable sidekick for the rest of her days.
She really didn’t know if she had the strength to go through with it all, though. That was the troubling part. As soon as she’d seen Sam yesterday, her thighs had gone weak. How could she get so turned on just by being in the same room with him, yet he was completely indifferent to her?
Even though she knew it was a refined form of torture, Delaney let herself remember how he’d looked when she first saw him yesterday. Strong and tanned, his eyes sparkling with energy, his hard body relaxed. She shifted minutely in the bath as she remembered the flash of belly she’d seen when he’d scratched his chest. He had a great stomach, ribbed with muscle and sprinkled with exactly the right amount of hair. She’d seen it so many times when they were out surfing that it should have been about as sexy as a foot or an ear or an elbow to her. But it never failed to excite her.
She realized her thighs had spread apart in the water, and that her hand had found its way to the nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs. Biting her lip, she slid a finger between her own folds. Her clitoris was swollen, already aroused by her thoughts, and she slid her finger over and over it gently, imagining it was Sam’s hand between her legs, Sam about to bring her to climax.
Panting, Delaney let her head drop back and gave herself up to the building tension between her thighs. Her free hand slid onto her breasts, sliding from one soap-slicked mound to the other, plucking at her nipples with increasing firmness.
“Oh, Sam,” she sighed, completely lost in her fantasy.
Only to have the mood abruptly shattered by the sound of someone pounding on her front door. She shot bolt upright in the tub, water sloshing around her as she wondered who on earth would be on her doorstep so early in the morning.
She guessed who it was at the same time that Sam called out for her to let him in.
“Come on, Delaney—we need to talk,” he bellowed from behind the door.
Climbing from the tub, Delaney hastily towelled herself dry and dragged on her silk robe. It was ridiculous to feel caught out, but she did. She’d been indulging her sexual fantasies about Sam for years, and it had always been hard to look him in the eye the next time she saw him. Now she felt as though she’d been busted in the act.
“Delaney, come on!” Sam bellowed, pounding on the door again.
“Hold your horses,” she called as she made her way across the living room.
Swinging the door open, she gasped with surprise when she saw that he’d shaved his dreadlocks off. He looked younger, oddly, without his now-familiar dreads, and the planes and angles of his handsome face were thrown into sharper relief. She resisted the urge to curve a hand into his cheek, touched by the vulnerable boy she could see in his man’s face all of a sudden.
“You cut your hair,” she said stupidly as he pushed past her into her apartment.
Sam shrugged. “Yeah, well, I had some spare time on my hands last night,” he said sulkily.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
Sam shook his newly shorn head. “Nothing.” Striding into the center of her living space, he propped his hands on his hips and scanned the apartment.
“So, is he still here?” he asked.
There was a definite note of belligerence in his tone, and Delaney bristled.
“Sam, I don’t know what exactly has crawled up your butt this morning, but take it back to your place and deal with it, okay?” she said shortly.
“What’s the big problem? We’re both adults. I’m just asking an adult question,” Sam said.
He was angry, agitated, she could see, and she guessed this was about her pulling out of the business.
“I know you’re pissed about me wanting to sell out of the magazine, but there’s nothing you can do about it,” she said with determination. “I’ve made my decision.”
“Did he stay the night or not, Laney?” Sam asked.
She stared at him. “Why do you suddenly care so much about my love life?” she demanded, utterly bewildered. What was really going on here?
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