Page 85 of The Playboy

I’d deleted Macon’s number when I saw him in the bar with that woman, but it had to be him—he was the only person who would write me something like that.

Something that made me tingle again.

Something that made me smile so hard.

I saved his number and typed out a reply.

Me

Wouldn’t you like to know?

Macon

I do want to know.

Me

I can’t lie … I am.

Macon

It’s all right. I’ve been hard all night, and that hasn’t gotten any better since I got back to the hotel.

Me

At least you’re able to take care of it, LOL. ;)

I’ll be doing homework for the next hour. Jealous?

Macon

Yes, I am actually. Because the homework gets to spend time with you and I don’t.

Me

Aww. Sweet dreams.

Macon

They will be … I’ll be dreaming about you.

* * *

Macon

Good morning, gorgeous.

Me

Don’t even tell me you’re just waking up. Because now, I’M jealous. I’ve been awake for three hours already.

I stilled in the middle of the en suite—a room three doors down from Macon’s that I’d been cleaning for the last couple of minutes—and I watched the dots appear under his message, telling me he was typing a reply.

I hadn’t known he was still sleeping, but I knew he hadn’t left his room. I’d been stalking it since the moment I’d gotten to work, determining when I should attempt to tidy it up.

Since I needed to quickly finish this room and move on to the next and figured he was still in bed, it was safe to run out and grab the glass cleaner I needed for the shower—something I’d forgotten on my way in.

I tucked my phone into the front pocket of my uniform and headed for the door that was already wedged open, a standard practice for our hotel—we never cleaned rooms with the door closed. Just as my hand was running over the numerous bottles, feeling around for the one that was shaped like the glass cleaner, I heard the sound of a door.

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