Boarding with the Bad Boy [COMPLETE + BONUS published edition]

THE BOARDERS: 07

Lo

I slip back into 202 as a group of guys from the hall turn a corner and catch sight of me.

"Lo-Lo!" one of them calls. I ignore him as I close the door behind me, leaning against it and watching the ceiling as their footsteps near the room. Someone from the group pounds on the door and I leap away from it, crouching for a fight.

"Skittish much?"

I jump again, this time toward the door. Sam's smirking on his bed, his long legs stretched before him.

"Jesus," I mutter, putting a hand to my heart. "I didn't realize you were in here."

"I saw you racing out of the common room and figured you were trying to get a little private time. Wanted to make sure you knew that would never happen." He grins wolfishly and I grimace at the way my stomach clenches.

I turn from him and go to my duffel in search of something to sleep in, reminding my body, forcefully, that I hate him.

"What," Sam urges. "No snarky comeback? No feet to the balls?"

I can't help my bark of laughter. "Keep your balls away from me and we won't have that problem again."

He laughs, and the sound sets loose a flood of warmth in my stomach. Goddammit. Get a fucking grip, Lo. This is not okay. I take my frustration out on my duffel, rifling furiously for the pair of sweats that will serve as pajamas tonight. My typical bedtime uniform—dad's oldest surviving Bob Dylan t-shirt and a pair of underwear—isn't going to cut it. When I find what I'm looking for, I spin.

"Would you mind?" I ask.

Sam's been watching me with a raised brow, but when he sees that I'm holding up my pajamas, he whistles through his teeth and settles back against his pillows. "By all means," he says, gesturing at me to go on.

The same flush of heat from when he put me in this position at the check-in meeting rises in my chest, as does my fight-or-flight instinct. Just do it and show him his shit doesn't work on me? Or circumvent the whole situation with some kind of clever comeback? Only I think I've reached my 'clever comeback' quota of the day (nothing's coming) and it's different to play this game when we're alone. I don't have it in me to do battle with Sam right now.

He watches in amusement, clearly enjoying my struggle at how best to respond. "If you thought bunking together was going to be your opportunity to get all cozy and friendly, you have another thing coming," he says finally. "Ott's been my friend for six years. My loyalty lies with him."

"And watching me change proves that how?" I snap, annoyed.

Sam shrugs. "Maybe it doesn't. Maybe that's for my own pleasure."

I stifle a growl. "Come on." I don't want to beg. Not to this asshole.

He watches me, making up his mind. Come on, I think.

At last he shrugs and kicks his long legs off the bed, striding to the door. He slows as he passes me in the middle of the room and leans down so that his warm breath runs over my face. "Just this once."

I can't hide the shiver that runs over me, but he ignores it and saunters out the door into the hallway.

I make quick work of changing and crawling into bed. When Sam returns a few moments later, I'm facing the wall, pretending to sleep. He drops something on his desk and I hear him come close, until he's standing right behind me.

"Somers," he sing-songs. I ignore him and focus on making my breath look slow and unlabored.

He tries again. "I know you're awake," he whispers, "but are you naked under there?"

My instinctive grab for the sheets makes him laugh.

I roll over to face him. My god he's close, and I can't help but notice that he's clad only in low-hanging sweats, naked from the waist up and sexy in a lean, masculine way. His hair's tousled as if he's just run a hand through it. My eyes drop to his mouth and take in the light spray of freckles just above it. His lips are a shade of pink that—

"Enjoying the view?"

I snap my eyes to Sam's and immediately regret the long close-up I've just allowed myself. His whole face is lit in a mix of amusement and annoyance. Nice one, Lo.

"Don't worry." He's smirking again. "You're not the first girl to look at me like a piece of meat."

"I wasn't—" I start, snarling, but he cuts me off.

"Though there's something particularly insane about the way your brain knows to hate me but your body can't figure it out. That should work nicely to my advantage, don't you think?"

He hits too close to home and my bite returns. "Screw you."

Sam laughs, but his eyes have hardened. "Trust me, I won't be adding my name to that long list."

For some reason, the insinuation hurts more coming from him than it ever has from Brandon. I don't bother responding, turning back to the wall.

Sam waits a moment before saying lightly, "All righty then. Sweet dreams, Princess." I hear him padding to his side of the room. But I don't turn and he doesn't say another word.