Worth the Risk by Melinda Di Lorenzo

slid his knee between her thighs and slammed his lips to hers. Hard.

Chapter 9
    M eredith’s body burned. And not with the flickering, banked kind of fire, but with flames to the ceiling. Searing and soaring. Hot enough to light up a lake. Scorching enough to wipe away the world. That was the kind of burn she felt as Sam kissed her against the back of the elevator.
    Meredith didn’t want the kiss to stop. And Sam started to pull away far too soon. She lifted her arms to his neck, digging her fingers into the hair on the back of his head, trying to prolong it. But he murmured something against her lips and it puzzled her enough that she let him go.
    “Hmm?” she mumbled.
    “S’getting a free show.”
    “What?”
    “Bellhop.”
    Sam inclined his head to one side and Meredith gasped. Sure enough, a gangly youth, dressed in the stereotypical uniform—complete with floppy epaulets—had managed to make it into the elevator without her noticing. He now stood to one side, his face turned politely away. But the purple in his cheeks and the bob of his Adam’s apple gave away his discomfort. Meredith wasn’t sure if she should laugh, apologize, or simply die of embarrassment herself.
    And apparently, Sam had his own idea of what she ought to do. “Thank him.”
    “What? Why?”
    “Because, dearest wife, while he doesn’t appear to have noticed we don’t have any luggage, he is the only thing standing between a publicly ravished you and a publicly unravished you.”
    Sam’s statement sent Meredith’s heart racing all over again. Was he kidding? Or was he truly tempted to be as roguish as he sounded? But before she could examine his face thoroughly enough to determine which it was, the elevator came to a smooth stop. And when the door slid open and the bellhop all but stumbled out, Meredith heard Sam chuckle under his breath.
    “You’re terrible.” She pushed past him to smile at the bellhop. “Which room is ours?”
    The kid cleared his throat, gave her a grateful nod. “You’re in 1003. If you come this way, I’ll show you to your door.”
    “Stop, right there,” Sam ordered.
    He blinked. “Pardon me, sir?”
    “Did you say 1003?”
    “Yes.”
    “We’re supposed to be in 1006.”
    Meredith shot him a dirty look. “I don’t see why it matters.”
    Sam lifted a hand. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We can tell him.”
    “Tell him?”
    Sam turned back to the kid. “My wife’s first husband died on October third. We specifically asked for any room but 1003. The concierge gave us 1006.”
    The bellhop’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry— I didn’t— She didn’t— I’m sorry.”
    “Do you have a key for 1006?” Sam asked.
    “I have a master key, but I’ve got you listed as—”
    “How about you just get our stuff from 1003, and we don’t mention this mistake to the concierge, and everybody stays happy?”
    As the kid nodded, then moved down the hall, Meredith clued in to what Sam was doing. Creating a cover. Buying them time in case someone did find them.
    “Still think I’m terrible?” he asked.
    “Yes. Deviously terrible.”
    “And deviously brilliant?”
    “You wish.”
    The bellhop clanged back into the hall, dragging one cart behind him and pushing another in front of him. “1006?”
    Sam grinned and said, “Exactly. Lead away. And don’t forget to give us the full sell.”
    “The— Okay.” The kid guided them down the hall, doling out a practiced spiel as they walked. “There are only six rooms on the tenth floor. Each one is a luxurious suite with a separate bedroom, open-plan office space and spa tub.”
    Showing a little more confidence with each sentence, he slid the key card into the slot, then held the door open and let them enter first. “As you can see, the bedroom boasts French doors, a king-size bed and also has its own bathroom.”
    Whatever else he said faded into background noise as Meredith’s mind paused on just one dangerous phrase.
    A king-size bed.
    Her eyes