Page 30 of Burn With Me

Her eyes find mine, questioning silently. My gaze slowly travels from hers to the golden wings she wears, then back toher face. Realization dawns when she looks over her shoulder at them.

“We could upgrade to the Dreamers wing?”

Touching. No sex. But I can touch her.

My cock stirs just thinking about it. “That, my Little Ember, is an excellent idea. If you’re up for it?”

“Yes.” Her reply is breathy.Needy. Her nipples pucker beneath the fabric of her top, and all I can think about is that tomorrow night, I can reach out and touch them if I want to.

“Well then, consider it done.” Standing, I drink what’s left of my scotch before adjusting myself with my back turned toward her. When I spin to face her, she’s gotten up as well and is standing so close that I almost take a step back.

Almost.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” she asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Yes.” My hand itches to reach out and touch her. “Yes, you most certainly will.”

Ginny

“Why am I just hearing about thisnow?” Lenni asks as we fill saltshakers at an open table in the back of Decadence.

My best friend fills in once in a while when Carmela needs her, but her primary job is Désirer. She’s one of the best Angels they have, switching between the three tiers depending on her mood.

And excelling at every one of them.

Lenni is their most sought-after Angel. She’s five-eight, has long chestnut hair, and ochre eyes. Her skin is in a perpetual state of looking as though she spent the day at the beach, and her way with men makes me wish I had her confidence.

“It isn’t true. Wearen’tdating,” I tell her as I grab another half-empty saltshaker.

“But are you fucking? If you’re not, when isthatgonna happen? And believe me, Gin, itneedsto happen. It’s been too long, babe. You need some dick. Who better to give it to you than Jackson Tailor?” Lenni flips her long hair over her shoulder and scowls at one of the other women as she passes by and gives me a dirty look.

“Valentina!” Using her full name in hopes of conveyingmy exasperation, I quickly look around to make sure no one heard her.

It’s bad enough all our co-workers are being catty after Jacqueline went and told everyone that Jackson basically alluded that we’re dating.

“Since when are you so enamored with the rich and famously dickheaded?”

“Oh, please. He’s gorgeous. If he wasn’t soenamoredwith you, I’d climb him like a tree and swing from the branches.” She screws a cap back on her last shaker before pushing everything away from her and folding her arms on the table. “Is he really so bad, Gin?”

My thoughts stray to Wednesday night.

No. No, he’s not.

“I don’t want to be someone’s one-night stand.” I shrug as I finish my last shaker. “I don’t know, I feel like I deservemorethan that.”

My eyes dart to my friend, who bristles at my comment and says dryly, “Well, gee, thanks.”

Rolling my eyes, I sit, reaching across the table and container of salt to grab her arms. “You know that isn’t what I mean, Lenni. There’s nothing wrong with having one-and-done meet-ups. It just isn’t whatIwant.”

She places a hand over mine and gives me a warm smile. “I know. And you do deserve more than that. It’s just...it’sJackson Tailor.”

Laughing, I open my mouth to respond when her eyes grow wide as she looks over my shoulder. “Ginny!”

But her warning is too late as something ice cold hits my back. It pours over my shoulders like a waterfall, dripping down my back as it ruins my white button-up, and the scent of coffee fills the air.

“Oops,” a snotty voice says behind me.

Slowly, I turn to see Rebecca, another co-worker who drools over Jackson regularly, glaring down at me. Her pouty, cherry-red lips turned down in a scowl.