Page 34 of Burn for Me

“And one more thing, Sam… " Caspian pauses, and I draw in a deep breath, stealing one more glance in the rearview mirror, expecting to see another flash of skin, but deep golden eyes stare back as she leans forward between the seats while pulling up her skirt.

Even when it's in place, she doesn't budge. Her face is close enough to mine that if I turn, she won't have much chance to pull away this time. She’d be forced to accept the way I'd devour her mouth. I could pull the car over now and test my theories on how she’d sound or if she's as submissive as I think she is below that bratty behavior.

“I know things are different for you, but try to play your part. Weneedto accomplish our mission, or everything we've done will go to waste. Remember your training withme.”

Typically, Caspian's words would be enough to pull me from my thoughts, but as she applies a deep red gloss to her lips, all I can think is how good the color would look if it were stained on my cock. I hang up the phone without saying a word and turn my attention to the directions, trying to find the best route to make this thirty-minute drive a ten-minute one. Her lips pop, and I shift my hips in my seat.

I just have to get there first. I don’t mean to the hotel by'there,'but in her head. Until then, I can't allow myself to feed into these urges and intrusive thoughts.

This is going to be the mission that ruins everything I was created to be.

“All better now?” I strain the words.

“Much.” She mumbles and leans back in her seat.

We stay quiet for the rest of the ride until we’re pulled in front of an elegant hotel with white-painted brick and red details along the siding. Looking around, I can spot plenty of dark allies that dip between contradicting towering business empires and quaint shops. Who knows how many crimes are committed at night when it's dark and there’s no one around to see? Two large doors swing open on the hotel only to shut as a new person joins the people waltzing along the pavement. They make the perfect victims with how completely unaware they are of their surroundings. They are utterly oblivious to the world around them–too busy studying their phones or sipping whatever drink is in their warm mugs.

I cut the engine and pull at the collar of my button-up. I guess they can handle their own, though, considering Jasmine is one of them. She looks just as sweet and innocent, but she's a criminal.

It makes me wonder, the same way I always do, what she could've possibly done. Was she a notorious thief or a pyromaniac? Does blood paint her hands like mine?

“What were your crimes?” I finally ask. I shake my head, knowing all too well that I won't get an answer and the subject will be changed, so while reaching for the handle, I mutter, “Never mind.”

“I took the fall for someone else, but in the long run,” she pauses, so I do the same, studying her in the rearview mirror.Her attention is averted to the crowd, and her brows are pulled together, deep in thought.

“Betrayal seemed to become my crime.” She's so quiet that I have to process if I heard her correctly. After exiting the vehicle, I open her door and grab our belongings from the trunk.

What does she mean?

Her hand wraps around my elbow, pulling me from my thoughts to see how tiny it looks in the crook.

“What if I mess this up?” she nearly whispers, and my attention is quickly pulled to hers, which is averted. The pure innocence in her voice almost causes me to drop to my knees right then and there.

“Just hold onto me like you love me, and I thinkwewill do just fine,” I mumble, and her fingers flex into my skin in response, but she still doesn't look at me. As we walk through the doors, I look down at her, and it’s like I’m seeing a new person. She's put together, smiling, almost looking relaxed–confident.

It's a complete contrast to all of her other forms I've witnessed. The way she struts to the front desk makes her seem like she was born for a life like this, slipping into the role naturally and drawing the attention of any person who walks past.

The only person who doesn't seem drawn to her aura is the receptionist, her nails clicking against the board rapidly while she doesn't so much as glance in our direction. I tilt my chin, looking down at the woman while clearing my throat, and Jasmine squeezes my arm in warning.

“Morana,” Jasmine states in a sweet voice that has the receptionist looking away from her work and between us. I look away.

“Of course, you're just on time. I believe it's room 405.” The woman's voice comes out smooth, like it's trying to glide over my skin, making me look back with a cocked brow. I'm no stranger to flirtation, but being so open in front of the woman on myarm is irritating. Before I can open my mouth, Jasmine steps between me and the counter, leaning over the desk. The woman behind the counter swallows at the proximity.

“Card, please.” Jasmine purrs, and I clench my teeth. There's something evil and so goddamn addictive below Jasmine's composed exterior, and I'd give anything to take a peek.Does she know she's testing my restraint, or is it natural for her?I thought I had eased the raging hard-on during our ride, but it comes back tenfold when she leans over the desk pushing her arse into my crotch while pointing at the screen.

Trying to distract myself, I drop my hand to her waist, ensuring she doesn't fucking move and make it even more difficult for me to survey the area.

Thankfully, she listens for once, and I can note a grand staircase leading to who knows where, three different exits, and multiple cameras poorly concealed throughout the area. I can have Moe access and upload the systems to my phone without raising alarms.

“How sweet of you. I'll let management know how much I'veenjoyedyour service.” Jasmine's sarcasm pulls me back to where she's pulling the card from the woman.

“Come on, darlin’, leave the lady be. You're just tired.” I say slowly.

Jasmine looks back at me through her lashes, poking her bottom lip out in a mock pout. I roll my eyes and move my hand to the small of her back, urging her off my lap but keeping her in front of me.

“I can take those for you, sir.” Ignoring the man trying to grab our bags, I make a straight line to the elevator. The last thing we need is for our equipment to be flagged, and honestly, I bloody need to adjust my pants.

Once in, she steps away from my touch, and I stare at our reflection in the mirror sliding doors while subtly kicking out myleg, hoping it'll do the trick. She's so smooth compared to me; she doesn't have scars from her past or wrinkles in her features from years of wear and tear. My brows furrow, confused about how I'm so adamantly studying the sight, but her attention stays on her shoes.

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