I See London. Chanel Cleeton

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      Chapter 3

      For a moment I couldn’t move. I just stood there, gaping at him, convinced this was some sort of nightmare I would eventually wake from.

      I blinked.

      Still there.

      Samir lay sprawled on the empty bed—Fleur’s bed—his hands behind his head, his ankles crossed. He looked perfectly comfortable, lazy even—except for his eyes. His eyes blazed as they explored my naked body—starting at my breasts, roaming lower…

      His gaze lingered like a caress over my bare skin, leaving a flash of heat in its wake.

      I shrieked.

      Lunging to grab the towel from the floor, I wrapped it hastily around my body, as if its mere presence was enough to erase my nakedness from his memory. “What the hell are you doing here?”

      He didn’t answer me. Instead his eyes lifted back to mine, slowly, his lips quirking.

      “What is wrong with you?” I snapped. My cheeks reddened. Hell, I blushed everywhere. “Are you some kind of perv or something?”

      He laughed, the sound rich, filling the dorm room. It should be illegal to laugh like that. “That’s one I haven’t been called before.”

      “Well, maybe you should be. Why the hell are you spying on me?”

      He grinned. “I wasn’t spying. I was waiting for someone. The show was just an added bonus. One I thoroughly enjoyed, by the way”

      I crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to die. More accurately, I wanted him to die.

      Samir laughed again, the sound sending a flutter through my body.

      I needed to put on clothes—sweatpants, preferably, and a parka.

      “I’m pretty sure I’m going to be enjoying this little memory for a while.” He rose from the bed, his body uncoiling, the move graceful and unhurried. He had style, I’d give him that.

      I expected him to walk out the door, but instead he moved toward me, each step bringing a new set of nerves and anticipation.

      “What are you doing?” I stumbled over the words, my voice coming out as a squeak.

      This had to be a dream.

      His gaze never left mine. I wanted to look away, wanted to turn around. I wanted to bolt, but something kept me in place.

      My feet were rooted to the floor.

      “What are you doing?” I repeated when he stopped inches away from me, close enough that the scent of his cologne teased me. He was taller than I’d originally thought, forcing me to tilt my head up to meet his gaze.

      He reached out, his finger grazing my collarbone. The touch of his hand against my bare skin sent a shiver through me. No one had ever touched me like this. I sighed, the sound filling the room. He froze, his finger hovering over my flesh. I opened my mouth to say something—to push him away—but I came up blank. All of my thoughts were focused on the point where his finger hovered over me, mesmerized by the sight of his skin against mine, of the possibility of that hand dipping lower…

      “Samir!”

      The voice broke me out of my stupor. I whirled around, staring at the door.

      A girl stared back at me through narrowed eyes and a pissed-off expression. She was tall. Way taller than me. Her thin body was encased in an outfit that looked like it belonged in a magazine. Shiny brown hair and boxy bangs framed a slender face with high cheekbones. One perfectly shaped eyebrow arched at the sight of me. There was only one person it could be—

      I’d never seen a French rap video, but I could definitely imagine her in one.

      She brushed past me, her eyes only for Samir. He didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. They hugged in a tangle of limbs, my presence forgotten.

      This time I did bolt. I grabbed my clothes, heading for the door. Hell, at this point changing in the middle of the hall was preferable to spending another minute in their presence.

      My roommate’s boyfriend was the hottest guy I had ever seen.

      And he’d just seen me naked.

      * * *

      Fifteen СКАЧАТЬ