He made an obvious clearing of his throat and spoke again. “Are you naked?”
She laughed, because what kind of question was that? “Of course I’m naked. What kind of baths do you take?”
He laughed then, and she could almost see him throwing his head back. “No no no… We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.”
“Okay then. Yes. I’m very much naked.” She was grinning ear-to-ear, feeling giddy and silly all at the same time.
“Are there bubbles?”
She laughed “Yes.” She bit her lip. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m trying to visualize you, and every detail helps.”
“Oh yeah? How am I looking?”
“Hot. Really hot.”
She bit her lip, loving the playful tone of his voice. She leaned her head back, realizing she loved talking to him so much. She loved—everything about him. She sunk a little deeper in the water and whisked up a pile of bubbles with her fingers. “And where are you, Mr. Montgomery?”
“In bed,” he stated. There was a seductive tone to his voice, but he didn’t elaborate. Which left her mind running with possibilities. With naughty thoughts of what he could be doing there.
The line went silent again, and soon she sat forward wanting to ask where he went. But before the words crossed her lips, his rich sexy baritone came through the receiver again. “Grab the soap, Samantha.”
She smiled, shocked by the request, and glanced toward the small box of soap sitting on the side of the tub before leaning back again. “I’m not grabbing the soap,” she said firmly, but she couldn’t quite contain her grin.
“Why? Do you not like soap?”
“No.” She laughed. “I just know what you want me to do and I’m not about to do it.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’m not having phone sex with you, Tristan,” she whispered, grinning ear to ear.
“I didn’t ask you for phone sex. I asked you to grab the soap.”
“Why do I feel ‘soap’ is the code word for phone sex?”
He laughed. “Because you’re a prude?”
Her mouth fell open in shock. “I’m not a prude, I—”
But before she could finish her sentence, he cut her off. “Then grab the soap, Samantha.”
She narrowed her eyes, because there was no denying the blatant “I dare you” in his request. She bit her bottom lip again, begrudgingly leaning forward to grab the little box. “Fine. You win.”
“Good,” he said in a cocky voice. “I like winning.”
She smiled again, and slid the soap from its silver housing. “Well I like cocky men, so I guess we’re both winners.”
He laughed again, but only for a second, because the mood had suddenly changed to something more serious. She slipped the soap under the water, getting it good and wet before she spoke again. “Now that I have the soap, sir, what do you want me to do with it?”
He groaned, and she sunk deeper still, letting her head loll back until the tops of her breasts were all that could be seen above the water. But she could feel herself getting aroused, even though he hadn’t touched her at all. Even though he hadn’t even looked at her.
“Rub it between your fingers, Samantha. Squeeze it, until a thick white foam builds between your hands.”
She did as he said, manipulating the soap and building the suds between her fingers, until they were slick.
He paused for a second, and she could hear his breath getting heavier. “Now place your hands at the top your knees. At the very top, where you have that one little freckle on the left side. Do you see it?”
She glanced down, placing her hands on the spot he spoke about—but she was choking up inside, because she was sure he was the only person in the world who knew about it. “Okay,” she whispered. “It’s there.” How in two days had he memorized her so well? How in a matter of days could she love him this much?
“Now slide your hands down, slowly,” he whispered. “Imagine my hands with yours, sliding the slick soap all the way down your thighs, until our fingers tangle in the hair between them, until we feel how wet you are.” He paused for a long moment, and she could hear him breathing. “Are you wet, Samantha?”
Her body shuddered, and her stomach constricted as she touched herself. “Oh God, Tristan.”
“Answer me.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
A loud knock sounded at the door, and she almost dropped the phone. She sat up, letting the soap drop to the bottom of the tub and grabbed her robe off the floor.
“I gotta go!” she said quickly. “Someone’s here.” She slid the phone across the bathroom floor, quickly rose out of the water, and stepped out of the tub. “Just a minute!” Then she pulled a fluffy white towel from the rack and wrapped it around her head.
She was still tying the belt at her waist when she got to the door and stretched up on tiptoe to look out the peephole.
A bellhop stood in the middle of the hall. There was a hopper full of luggage behind him, and she mentally cursed him for interrupting them.
“What the hell does he want?” she whispered, but opened the door anyway and smiled. “Hi there. I think there must be a misunderstanding, because all my luggage is already here.”
He glanced at his tablet, checking the room number, then back up to Samantha. “Are you Miss Smiles?” he asked, his brows rising as he waited for her response.
“Well yes, but—”
He then lowered a dolly from the hopper, and soon her bubble wrapped creation was positioned right in front of her door. “Is this not yours, Miss Smiles?”
She covered her mouth, shocked she’d been able to forget such a thing. “Yes, that’s mine,” she clarified. “I—forgot.” She scratched the back of her head, and glanced around her hotel room, looking for a place to put it. “Would it be okay for you to put it in the bedroom? I don’t want my friend seeing it when she comes over.”
He nodded quickly, then disappeared to the bedroom a moment before Renee appeared at the door.
“What’s going on?” Renee said, grabbing hold of a strand of Samantha’s still dripping hair that had escaped from her towel. “You ruined your hair.”
Samantha closed the door behind them, and stepped into the room. “It’s not ruined. I took a bath.”
Renee shrugged, just as the bellhop came back from the bedroom with the empty dolly. She raised her brows suggestively, then hung her garment bag up on the back of the bathroom door. “Sowing your oats already?”
The bellhop turned bright red, but came to stand in front of Samantha anyway. “Ma’am,” he began. “Is there anything else you’ll be needing this evening?”
Samantha shook her head, not knowing if she should tip him or not, but after Renee’s comment, she fetched a twenty off her dresser and curled it up in his hand. “Thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate it.” She then escorted him to the hall, locked the door, and turned around, seeing her best friend lounging on the couch with her feet up.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked Renee. “I thought you were taking a nap?”
Renee shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. Plus, I thought it would be more fun to get ready together.” She rose to her feet and unzipped the garment bag before turning around. “I brought you something to wear.”
Samantha laughed. “I brought my own clothes, you know.”
Renee bit her bottom lip, “But your clothes are boring. Besides, I brought you something special. Something hot.” She pulled a wooden hanger from the bag, and Samantha gazed at the small piece of black fabric that hung by straps as thin as spaghetti.
She raised her brows before looking at her best friend again. Because it barely looked large enough to fit Renee, and Samantha was much more voluptuous. “That’s not going to fit me.”
Renee pulled a pair of five-inch heels out of the bag. “Don’t be silly.” She then took Samantha’s hand and began pulling her toward the bathroom. “Now, let’s get your hair blown out and get you ready.”