Sam glared at the elevator doors and cursed himself for being a fool. She’d manipulated him and he’d succumbed despite his better judgment. Because he wanted her. Because he didn’t want her surrendering to anybody else. Watching her with Douglass, he’d realized that single truth. He might not trust that she knew what she wanted, but he knew himself well enough to accept when his wants outweighed his good sense. When the elevator reached his floor, he was relieved to find the corridor empty. He wanted Melanie to suffer the embarrassment of walking around stripped bare, since it was her idea, but he didn’t want to share the view with anybody else. Stepping aside, he waved her out of the elevator ahead of him. “We’re going to room 703,” he said. “It’ll be on your left.” “Could I have your shirt?” Melanie bit her lip before adding, “Sir?” “No.” He fixed her with an expectant stare and gestured toward the hall. To her credit, she didn’t fuss over his refusal.
