Page 79 of Burn

Heather points to the screen in front of her. “Their reservation was deleted somehow. There are no rooms available to accommodate them and their handicapped daughter.”

Below them, I notice they have a child in a wheelchair and guess who’s talking to her?

Caleb. He’s standing next to her now asking her questions about the stickers on her chair. She’s smiling, red-faced and shy. Me and this little girl have something in common.

I end up finding them a room and Caleb hands his BFF a Seattle Fire Department sticker to add to her collection of stickers.

Heather disappears behind the counter, and I’m left with Caleb in the lobby. “That was nice of you.”

He shrugs. “Sometimes you just gotta make a pretty girl’s day.” He bumps my shoulder with his. “How about I make another pretty girl’s morning?”

As appealing as this sounds, underneath these tummy tickles is a nagging feeling I’m getting myself into trouble. I’m trying to run a hotel as successfully as my father hopes to have it run and this, getting involved with him, seems, I don’t know, bad?

“Listen . . .” Drawing in a deep breath, I turn to face him. “This is fun, but we can’t do it here. I have to remain professional here.”

Immediately his bottom lip jets out. “Please?”

Well since he said please, I have to do it now.

I grab his muscle-bound arm. “Okay, fine but not the closet this time.”

His eyes light up. “Your office?”

“No way. Remember, floor-to-ceiling windows?”

“Uh, yeah, Iknow.” And then he glances at me, like what the fuck is the problem with that?

Admittedly, I have a vision of all the possibilities of floor-to-ceiling windows, including the strange rush of emotions I’d probably have being pressed up against said windows with the city below.

No. You can’t do that, Mila.

I give him a look. One that says, not today but we’re not completely discounting that idea all the way.

At the entrance to the guest rooms, I rack my brain of where to take him. Though I know Scarlet would stand watch, I don’t want to do it in a room. Jesus fuck, this is a horrible idea but the spa comes to mind. There’s a bed. It’s quiet . . .

I’m going to hell. Jobless hell.

“I know a place.” And then I’m dragging him to the spa where I steal a room when Izzy Bizzy is occupied on the phone.

Like I said, unemployment is in my near future over dick.

Caleb takes his shirt off, seeming a little eager, and works on his belt buckle and staring at the oils. “Can I stick it in your ass?”

“Can I stick something in yours?”

He actually considers it and then drops his jeans to his ankles. “No way.”

“Then no, you can’t.” I rip my shirt over my head and then my skirt. I don’t need him to take my clothes off. This is dirty fucking. You get right to business. No messing around.

“Damn it,” he mumbles, watching me undress. I get to my heels and he slaps my hand away from my shoes. “Leave them on.”

Like I said, dirty fucking.

Without needing a push, Caleb reaches into his wallet for a condom and then gives the massage table a nod. “Bend over it.”

His demand flushes my cheeks. I do as he says, placing my hands flat on the table with my ass in the air. Looking back over my shoulder at him, he winks, placing his right hand on my ass cheek and then stepping behind me.

Slowly, his other hand slides up my spine to my hair he tangles around his hand and fists it, tugging back slightly. His hand on my ass squeezes and then drops to his cock where he slides it back and forth between my slick folds. “Miss me?”

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