Burned Deep by Calista Fox

breathe. “Now I’m disappointed. I was hoping you were tossing and turning in bed, thinking about me and wondering what I might be able to do about your restlessness.”
    â€œI—” I shook my head. I was restless. How had he known? Was I really this transparent with him?
    â€œIf you’re interested in a bedtime story, I’d be happy to make one up for you,” he taunted in his sexy voice. “But be forewarned: It’s no sweet, innocent fairy tale.”
    Of course not. Because you are the devil.
    A hotter than hell one at that.
    â€œI’ll pass on the story,” I said. Coward. “Is your site scheduled for maintenance tonight?”
    â€œNot that I’m aware of,” he told me, the discontent over my avoidance thick in his tone. I heard his fingers click on the keyboard, so he must be in his office. Or he could be working on a laptop at home. I almost asked but pressed my lips together to keep from sounding as though I were stalking him. “That’s weird,” he muttered. “It’s solid black.”
    A crack of thunder made me jump. Rain pelted the windows. All I needed now was a terrifying flock of ravens perched on the tree limbs outside and I could call it a day.
    I said, “There was an Under Construction tag with some digits at the bottom, but they only flashed a few times before trickling away.”
    â€œDigits? Do you remember what they were?”
    â€œNot really. Started with a five…”
    He fell silent again. Tension arced between us. I could feel him brooding. Could picture the furrowed brow and the clenched jaw. Something definitely was not right with the problems at 10,000 Lux.
    â€œOne more complication?” I ventured.
    â€œI’ll get it fixed in the morning.” His tone was still low and sexy but decisive. “Now, about the job. Say, Yes, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and then we can wrap up the business portion of this call.”
    That spark only he could ignite made my clit tingle. The ache inside me sprang to life—an incessant need that consumed me. A demanding, erratic pulsing in my core that would only intensify if I stayed on the phone with him.
    â€œAri,” he said, his tone coaxing. “What’s the point in stalling? What more can I offer to make you agree?”
    â€œNothing,” I told him. “Everything you’ve put on the table is … perfect. Yes, everything I’ve ever wanted. The rest, ” as he’d termed it during dinner the night before, “is something entirely different.”
    â€œI’ve explained about Mikaela. And I’ve been patient with you. You can’t expect me to wait forever.”
    â€œDane, we’ve known each other for, like, two weeks.”
    â€œYes,” he said, the sound of his laptop snapping closed and him settling into a chair or sofa echoed his frustration. “And I haven’t laid a hand on you. That’s killing me, Ari.”
    Exhilaration shot through me. The throbbing in my pussy had me squeezing my legs together.
    â€œDane,” I grumbled. God, he lit me up so easily. Too easily.
    â€œTell me what you sleep in.”
    My eyelids closed tightly as magma started to flow in place of blood.
    â€œAri,” he prompted, a hint of need edging his voice, tearing at me. “Give me something to work with here.”
    My cheeks warmed. “Nothing provocative, sorry. I’ve got on a faded Edmonton Oilers T-shirt, ripped at the neck.”
    â€œMm.” He sounded a bit more satisfied. “Number?”
    â€œNinety-nine, of course.”
    â€œThe Great One. Wayne Gretzky. I wouldn’t take you for a hockey fan.”
    Shoving thoughts of how much more thrilling a response someone like Mikaela Madsen would give to his question, I stood and flipped off the light switch, then returned to the living room. The storm was a bad one, and it made me a little nervous as I