Page 135 of Little Sunshine

I wasn’t sure if I was more pissed that she was already planning the end or amused that she thought she had a choice once she agreed to be mine.

“This would be a different conversation if you had your dream career, but we both know that’s not the case. And my woman isn’t going to be on her hands and knees, cleaning jizz stains out of a hotel carpet.” She opened her mouth, but I cut in. “And if you’re thinking that’s not something that happens at the nice resorts, you’re wrong. Nebula is one of the best places in all of Vegas, it costs a shit-ton a night, and we’ve got a diplomat who was banned for leaving a room covered in piss. It was on the damn ceiling.” Mila already looked green at that, but I still tacked on, “And that’s not the worst story I have.”

“It was… why? Was he drunk, or was the bathroom broken?”

“It’s a kink.”

She grimaced at the visual and moved on. “If I’m not working, what would I do?”

“You want to pick up a hobby, great. You want to take some classes, also great—so long as your schedule is flexible around mine.” She opened her mouth to argue further, but I reminded, “I already told you I’d be selfish with your time.”

She remained silent while she thought that over for a minute. “When we… When things are done, will you pass along my résumé to the housekeeping department at one of the hotels?” She didn’t give me the chance to respond before she amended, “Not necessarily at Black Resorts since that’d be awkward. I’m fine with any you have connections with.”

A few things struck me.

For one, she could’ve asked me to guarantee her a job. Instead, she just wanted me to hand off her résumé.

For another, she could’ve asked me to guarantee her a job working reception, in the offices, or, hell, as a fucking showgirl. Instead, she hadn’t tried to take advantage.

But I focused on the most important part.

No longer amused, my fingers that’d been playing in her long dark hair fisted. She turned her wide eyes to me as I tugged harder. “Gotta say, sunshine, I’m not big on your use of the word when.” At her lowered brows, I explained, “That’s twice in this conversation alone that you’ve talked about when this is over. Kinda hurts my ego that you’re ending shit in your head before you’ve even agreed to anything.”

“Sorry.”

“Mila.”

“Sor…” She smiled shyly. “I’m a planner.”

I went back to gently playing with her hair. “That’s fine. Plan something else. Not that.”

“Right,” she whispered.

“What other questions do you have?”

I watched as she started to shift before catching herself. “Would you tell me what to do in the bedroom?”

In the bedroom. The office. The kitchen counter.

This couch, if the conversation goes well.

I didn’t say any of that out loud and turned it on her. “Would you like me to?”

Her small but immediate nod sent a surge of blood to my dick. “I, uh, don’t really have much experience, so I think it’d be reassuring to know I’m doing the right thing. I’ve always been a quick learner, so?—”

“Camila.”

Her words cut off as she looked at me.

And that made me harder.

“If you want to finish this conversation, you gotta stop torturing me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

That time, her smile wasn’t shy. It was a real, full smile that held a hint of satisfaction.

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