Just Sign Here - Cara Dee Page 0,17

so we try to accommodate their needs.”

Peyton stepped forward and handed me a Post-it.

Customer surveys show ratings in service have improved since she started working here two years ago.

I inclined my head in thanks before returning my attention to Sophia. “That’s good. We’re trying to lure them away from Airbnb in many of our other cities. So far, without much luck.”

“Personalization, I believe, is key,” Sophia responded. “Travelers are sharing their experiences on social media today, and there’s nothing new and exciting about a hotel that looks the same in every city.”

She had a point.

We passed all the conference rooms; big and small, some were occupied, some not.

“We have luck on our side,” Sophia went on. “Many guests staying here require space for meetings, for instance. Airbnb won’t help you there.”

I furrowed my brow. That wasn’t luck. It was a well-planned move to provide conference rooms in all major chain hotels.

I let the comment slide.

The tour ended in the executive lounge next to the gym on the eighteenth floor, where Sophia spoke of another change they’d made recently—to offer privacy in the lounge for smaller meetings. She proceeded to tell me she’d taken the liberty of arranging a “nook” for me with coffee and pastries as well as some reports from their in-house surveys.

“Thank you.” It would be nice to get off my feet for a moment. The lounge was almost empty at this hour, and the dark oak wood dividers offered further seclusion. Two low couches and a table filled the little area, and a woman from the lounge staff came to pour our coffee as I sat down.

Then the women left.

“Want me to sort through these, sir?” Peyton sat down across from me and grabbed the stack of papers. “There’s no need for you to read what we’ve already had access to.” He rubbed his forehead and winced, which stole my attention much quicker than the surveys ever could.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Yeah, just a headache. Oh, wait. I have something for you.” He patted his pockets and produced a very small flask.

My eyebrows went up. “It’s a bit early, don’t you think?”

He grinned quickly and poured a splash into my coffee. “It’s hazelnut syrup. Cathryn helped me find it in a store.”

Christ. That did something to me. I reached forward and took a tentative sip, and I felt the strong coffee mingling with a bit of hazelnutty sweetness.

“Good?” He cocked his head.

He looked so innocent. Sweeter than the syrup. Yet, undeniably sexy and far from harmless. Peyton wasn’t new in the world. He had to know of the effect he could have on others. On me.

“Better.” I took another sip and held his gaze. “I want you to kneel at my feet.”

“Wh…” He shut up and swallowed hard. Shock was evident in his expression.

I refused to backtrack. I wanted him to sit on the floor, right here, right now, between my legs. “Come.” I picked up the stack of papers on the table and left them on the couch next to me. Then I parted my legs a bit and waited patiently.

He rose from the couch with an unsteady breath.

I pushed the table forward once he’d stepped to the side, and I patted the edge of the cushion between my thighs. “Down here.”

He stepped over my leg and stared at the floor. “Um.”

“No ums. Sit, boy.”

He cursed under his breath and sank to the floor, folding his legs underneath him.

Desire pooled in my lower body. The sense of control slithered into my veins, a heady feeling I’d missed terribly. I couldn’t hold back any longer.

“There we go.” I threaded my fingers through his soft hair and drew a deep breath. “Rest your head on my leg. Relax for a moment. Shut everything out.”

He needed a break. He was already tending to my needs professionally better than anyone had before, and I was a demanding bastard.

It took him some time to relax, understandably, but I witnessed the tension leaving him slowly but surely. He sank lower to the floor and rested his cheek on my leg, facing away from me, and I kept combing my fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and rubbing his neck.

Letting the silence stretch between us, I picked up one of the reports and went back to work for a while. The guests at this hotel were satisfied with our staff’s service, and I was beginning to wonder if I could somehow orchestrate an exchange program. Say, send a team from our