Page 161 of Burn

Curving his finger under my chin, he tilts my chin, and my gaze finds his. A smirk greets me. “You want my dick, don’t you?”

Leave it to him to turn a tender moment sexual. I fucking love it.

Licking his lips, he looks at me like he’s about to speak. I blink and swallow, afraid of what he might say. Pushing his thumb over my collarbone and over my chest to my heart and the puckered skin of my scars, my eyes hold his.

Caleb leans in so our noses and foreheads are touching before kissing me softly. “You’re beautiful,” he says softly, kissing my scared skin. “And I’m sorry for these.”

“Don’t be.” It’s not the first time, nor is it the last time he’s going to apologize for that night. I let him because it makes him feel better.

I don’t hate my scars. Beauty isn’t defined by great skin. Don’t get me wrong, it pisses me off I was burned so badly wearing a tank top isn’t ideal, but it doesn’t dictate how I live my life.

What happened—and everything that happened between Caleb and me—it changed the dynamic of our relationship. If I’m honest, I would say that this, between us, is a work in progress and might never be what it needs to be or even what some would consider healthy, but that’s okay. It doesn’t have to be. I want his demons and the destruction that comes with it. Some would say that’s bullshit and we can make it what we want, but they’d never met Caleb Ryan or been through what we have. It’s not up to them to decide what’s right for us.

BACK AT WORK on Monday, I can barely keep the smile off my face when I’m walking inside the hotel that morning.

Everything seems perfect, and there’s even breakfast waiting for me in my office. Not from Caleb. His idea of breakfast would be me with my head between his legs drinking his protein.

The pancakes on my desk are from Henry, our cook, with a note that says, “Today’s special. Let me know what you think.”

He’s always making me food. While he’s enthusiastic about his inventions, I think he’s trying to fatten me up and then eventually I’ll find myself in a dungeon where he throws lotion down to me and I apply it faithfully. Wait . . . no, that’s a movie, isn’t it?

Same difference though.

It took four months from the fire for us to be able to open the doors at Wellington Plaza again. It took me three just to be able to do any work at the hotel with the medical issues I had, but I still worked nearly every day from my laptop.

In many ways, I felt responsible for the fire, but my dad and I kept pushing on and didn’t let it destroy his and my dream. For a while I thought to myself, is this my dream? Do I want to one day run this hotel? Maybe there’s something to stepping back and doing something less demanding.

The moment those thoughts surfaced, I thought of Caleb and what he does for a living. He makes me try harder, be better and for that reason, I kept going, because giving up wasn’t an option.

I’m in my new office, eating my blueberry and honey pancakes, on the first floor this time with Scarlet sitting on my couch. Though this is a familiar situation, one I’ve longed for over the months with my best friend, a lot has changed between us.

She’s no longer a maid. Girl got promoted after my dad fired Heather.

She also fulfilled her lifelong dream of sleeping with Shade Sawyer. Last night actually.

It’d been a while since Shade stayed at the hotel. I’m sure you can imaginewhy. Various reasons. Mostly because we were down for renovation with the fire, but I think in some ways, he was afraid to return after what happened the last time he was in Seattle.

But he did return and found his way between Scarlet’s legs when she presented herself, naked, in his room. I may or may not have given her the passcode to the newly remodeled penthouse suite.

“How’d he seem?” I ask, waiting for her to tell me every detail, but starting with how Shade was handling life. Last time I saw him he was crying.

“Fucked up, but whatever. It was still fun. How was your weekend with the firefighter? He knock you up yet?”

I smile, the memories of our last night and the lock flooding my brain. “Maybe.” I laugh, teasing. Caleb always uses protection so no babies just yet. I still plan on making him give me some though.

I motion to her vagina. In an attempt to make my next question more apparent. “Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

Scarlet shrugs, never appearing overly excited about anything, and then a wide smile cracks her face into a beaming glow. “Fuckin’ right it was. It’s no wonder that motherfucker has an endless stream of women in his bed. Dude like that needs to share his gifts.”

Tossing my napkin on my plate, I shake my head at Scarlet. “I can’t believe you.”

“Look at this!” Scarlet stands up, carefully—she appears almost sore—and lifts her shirt up over her head to show me her hips and neck. “He gave me all these bruises and marks. I’ll wear them like bandages of Shade.”

I can totally relate to her. “Maybe you should see Izzy Bizzy this afternoon,” I tease.

Scarlet winks. “Only if you’ll help me stalk Shade in California . . .”

She’s totally serious right now. “What did he say afterward?”

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