Triple Score. Regina Kyle

      Sara waved an arm, gesturing around the room. “Everyone else is otherwise occupied. Besides, you know where his room is.”

      “I...I do?” Noelle stammered. “I mean, I do, but how do you...?”

      “He told me you took my advice and apologized for listening in on us and thinking the worst.”

      “Oh.”

      “Yeah, oh.” Sara squinted at her. “You’re holding out on me.”

      “I don’t know what you mean.” Noelle wiped her suddenly clammy palms on her shorts.

      “Yes, you do.” Sara put her hands on her hips. “Something’s going on with you and Jace.”

      “What... ?” Noelle lowered her voice. “What would make you think that?”

      “First, you all but refuse to bring him his phone. Then you get squirrelly about being in his room. Seems pretty suspicious to me.”

      “Well, it’s not.” Noelle stamped her good foot for emphasis. “There’s absolutely nothing going on between us. I barely know the man.”

      “Good. Then it won’t be a problem for you to give him his phone.”

      Trapped.

      “Of course not,” Noelle said with forced lightness. “I’ll see you in sixty.”

      Woman up, she told herself as she limped out the door and down the hall. You got this. Just knock on his door, hand him his phone and go. No smiles. No small talk. And definitely no steamy kisses.

      The first part of her plan was no problem. She made her way to his room and knocked. And knocked. And knocked. She even tried calling out his name.

      No answer. Too bad the darned phone wasn’t thin enough to slip under the door.

      In a last-ditch move, she tried the knob. If she was lucky, she could leave the phone just inside the door and slip away unnoticed.

      She was lucky.

      The knob turned and she inched the door open. The sound of running water greeted her, explaining why Jace hadn’t answered the door.

      He was in the shower.

      Which, of course, conjured all sorts of X-rated images in her head. Like Jace naked. And wet. And best—or worst—of all, hard. Every naked, wet inch of him.

      Noelle shook her head to clear her thoughts—fat lot of good that did—and stepped gingerly into the room. She was all set to drop off the phone and hightail it out of there as fast as she could with one good leg when she heard a thud, then a moan, from the bathroom.

      “Jace?” She froze, the phone still in her hand. “Are you okay?”

      Another moan, this one longer, more guttural, almost a growl.

      She put the phone down on the nightstand and pressed her ear to the bathroom door. “Jace?”

      Still no response.

      Damn.

      How did she get herself into these predicaments?

      He was probably fine. Doing what guys did in the shower when they were horny or bored or whatever. She’d done what she promised, brought him his stupid phone. And now she could—should—leave.

      But what if he wasn’t okay?

      Double damn.

      She eased the door open, telling herself her motives were noble, not naughty. She’d only look long enough to make sure he wasn’t crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the bathtub. And if she happened to get a glimpse of a bulging bicep or slick pec or—heaven forbid—stiff cock, she’d just look down and back away quickly.

      Very quickly.