Page 116 of Burn

“Why’d you get whip cream?”

And there’s the smile I’ve missed. Sigh. “Well, that’s for you to decide. I was going to bring ice cream, but I thought about the choking hazard.” The grin widens, but he’s trying to remain serious as he adds, “You can choke on this instead.”

You’re thinking, no, he didn’t just grab his junk in the middle of a five-star luxury hotel surrounded by guests who probably make upwards of six figures a year. Oh, but you’d be wrong because he does, and it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

I shake my head when he grabs his junk, the same hand that has a bag of candy in it I hadn’t noticed until now. “Really?”

“Uh huh.”

“And those?”

“Those are Swedish Fish.”

“Can I have some?”

He rips the bag out of my reach. “No. These are for me. The whip cream is yours.”

I attempt to smack him on the shoulder, but he catches my wrist in midair and yanks me to him. I land against his chest with a gasp.

Sigh. I missed this.

“Will you come back to my place with me?”

“Hold on.” And then I take off back to the front desk with adrenaline shooting through my veins. I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t, but I want him alone. All alone and I know if we’re at his place, Jacey’s there and sometimes Owen. If we go to Scarlet’s place, we do it on the couch and she conveniently finds ways to walk in on us.

You’re going to hell for this. I tell myself swiping the card key from the drawer to the penthouse suite. It just finished its remodel and I should check it out, right?

This is where I should listen to the pathologically moral side of my brain that keeps me out of situations like this. But I don’t. She’s dumb. Might as well become Peter Pan because I’m never going to grow up.

With my heels clicking across the marble floor of the lobby, I run back over to him, hold up the card key and drag him to the elevators with me. “I have an idea.”

Not a good one but an idea.

CALEB GLANCES AROUND the penthouse suite as we step inside but never gives away much of a reaction. Most people gasp when they walk in. Not Caleb. I’m beginning to understand he’s not impressed by much of anything. “You don’t have to clean these rooms, do you?”

“No, thank God.” I flip on the lights, and we find ourselves in the bedroom, conveniently. “But I used to when I was younger. I started working here when I was sixteen, and my dad made me work every job so I knew how it all worked. He always said you can’t manage a hotel if you have no idea what your staff goes through each day. He lives by the motto,you don’t judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes.”

“Sounds like a good man.” Taking the few steps toward me, he backs me up against the bed, drops his candy and the whip cream, and puts his hand up my dress. Sliding it slowly up my thighs, he rubs my clit over my panties, making me crazy with need. I want all my clothes off and something filling me. Now.

Reading my mind, Caleb starts tearing clothes away and pushes me back on the bed.

I release a tiny gasp of surprise when he’s crawling up my body. It’s the most erotic crawl I’ve ever seen. He smiles, gazing down at me on my back before grabbing my wrists and securing them above my head.

“Did you miss me?” he asks, dragging his thick cock between my slippery folds and grabs the whip cream bottle with the other hand.

“What do you think?” I whisper, trying not to blush.

Lowering himself so we’re skin to skin, he growls in my ear, “I fuckin’ missed you.”

Just when I think he’s going to enter me, he doesn’t and sits up moving backward until he’s on his knees. Taking the whip cream bottle in his hand, he grabs the bag of candy, rips it open with his teeth, so the bag breaks apart and tiny red candy fish fall over the white blanket.

He picks up two, one for him, one for me and places the candy fish on my lips.

Rising up on my elbows, I smile, the sweetest of the candy hitting my tongue, my shoulders rise and fall with quick breaths waiting to see what he’s going to do next. I can never tell with him.

Chewing on his own candy, he shakes the whip cream bottle and then sprays the thick white cream on his cock. “Suck,” he demands.

That’s what the whip cream was for.

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