If We Were Perfect - Ana Huang Page 0,45

and awareness sizzled in her lower belly.

Olivia shook her head to clear the unwanted thoughts and immediately regretted it.

The room spun, causing her to lose her balance. In her panic, she grabbed onto the nearest source of stability...AKA Sammy.

Her hands clutched his rock-hard biceps, and her body pressed against his naked, chiseled torso. The sudden urge to wrap herself around him like a vine curling around a tree trunk overwhelmed her.

Olivia tilted her head up, and her stomach swooped and dipped faster than a roller coaster ride. Because the look in Sammy’s eyes? Hot enough to set the iceberg from Titanic on fire.

A heavy ache blossomed between her legs, and her nipples tightened. She wondered if he could feel them through her thin bra and top. She wondered a lot of things, actually—like whether Sammy was as good a kisser as he used to be, or if he’d gotten even better over the years (a pox on any woman he’d kissed who wasn’t her!), and if his tastes in bed had changed, or if he was still as adventurous as ever (dear God, please).

Olivia’s thighs clenched when she remembered some of their reenactments of the scenes from her books. There was one scene in particular from tonight’s book club pick that Sammy would knock out of the ballpark—he would look hot as hell in a CEO getup. Suit and tie, black-rimmed glasses, a nice watch on his wrist. Yum.

Olivia found guys who wore watches hot as hell, especially if they paired it with a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Maybe it was because she valued punctuality? Whatever it was, it got her going faster than one of the cars in those Vin Diesel movies guys liked so much.

The molten heat in Sammy’s eyes turned to lava. “Olivia.” Her name came out as a hoarse rasp. “Stop looking at me like that.”

She sniffed him discreetly. God, he smells good. Clean and fresh, with a hint of sandalwood. “Like what?”

“Let’s get you to bed. You’re drunk,” he said, ignoring her question.

“No, I’m not,” she slurred. Okay, maybe a little. But she only had, what? Three margaritas? Three was nothing, even if said margaritas had been jumbo-sized. On a scale of one to drunk, she was not. Or something like that.

Olivia squealed when the world tilted upside down and she found herself staring at the ceiling. The blood rushed to her head, precipitating what she suspected would be a massive headache in a few hours. “What are you doing? Let me down!”

“No. You might knock down the poor coat tree again.” Sammy marched them down the hall toward her room.

“This is kidnapping!”

“Yes, I’m kidnapping you inside your house and bringing you to your room. The horror,” he said, tone dry.

“This isn’t my house.” Olivia blinked. The hallway looked so different upside-down. Is that a smudge on the ceiling? How did that get there? She made a mental note to look for a stepladder so she could clean it tomorrow. “This is your house. I’m only living here. Temporarily.”

Her apartment search hadn’t been going well, in the sense that Olivia had stopped searching. It was unlike her—usually, she’d already have dozens of viewing appointments lined up—but work had been crazy. She’d get around to it. Eventually.

Sammy nudged her door open with his foot. “How much did you drink tonight? I haven’t seen you this hammered since K-town karaoke.”

Olivia giggled, remembering her and Sammy’s epic night in New York’s Koreatown years ago. Their innocent dinner had segued into an hours-long party at a nearby KTV (karaoke) spot with a bunch of Russian tourists who’d ordered enough alcohol to down a large elephant. Sometime between knocking back vodka shots—blech—and belting out the lyrics to The Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way,” she and Sammy had snuck into one of the bar’s bathrooms for sex.

The bathrooms had been surprisingly clean, though Olivia had been too inebriated to dwell on the hygiene ramifications of their actions, anyway. She didn’t regret it—it had been the hottest sex of her life.

“That was a good night,” she mumbled as Sammy set her down on her bed. “We had a lot of good nights, didn’t we?”

A small pause. “Yeah,” Sammy said softly. “We did.”

Olivia closed her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when she felt Sammy unbuckle and tug off her shoes. She hadn’t realized how constricting they were until they were off.

“Sammy?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

He froze, his hand lingering close enough to her calf for the warmth to soak into