Page 18 of Fallen Hero

It also reminded me, I had work to do.

No more fantasizing about . . . anything. No lips, no hands, no penis.

“I’m thinking,” I called back.

“About?”

How good your mouth would feel on my breasts.

Lord, I needed a lobotomy.

“If it’s worth dismembering your body or if I should leave it in one piece for your friends to bury.”

I heard his deep, rumbly laugh through the door, and damn but the sound made me shiver.

“I want to be cremated,” he told me.

“Really?” I asked, opening the door to find him lounging on the bed.

His shoulders rested on a pile of pillows against the headboard, long legs straight out, ankles crossed, hands resting on his stomach, eyes trained on the door, waiting. Nothing particularly sexy about the pose, but so totally sexy all the same. I had to swallow a groan and remind myself I seriously disliked Mason Hughes.

“Dead’s dead. Just burn my body and toss the ashes.”

My gaze hadn’t left his hands, or more to the point, his very thick fingers.

I was too transfixed to reply, so he went on. “I take it you want to be put in the ground.”

“No.” I shook my head and repeated, “Dead’s dead. Just burn my body and toss the ashes.”

Not that I’d have anyone to claim my ashes or visit a grave. Two-thirds of my family were gone, and with the state my mother was in, she wouldn’t be able to find her way to the cemetery. I knew because two-thirds were buried, and she never visited. Not that I was in a position to judge. I’d only been to my Lili’s grave twice—first when we put her into the ground, and the second was the day we laid my father to rest. Or maybe I’d laid him to rest, and my mother just sat there next to me, comatose.

“Calista?”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me, sweetness.”

My gaze snapped to his.

“You okay?”

What the hell was wrong with me? First dirty thoughts, now I was letting my guard down thinking about crap I had no business thinking about.

“Fine,” I scoffed. “Your dirty boots are on my bed.”

“So?”

“So? I don’t want to sleep in a bed—”

“You’re not staying in this room alone,” he interrupted me. “We have—”

It was my turn to interrupt, and inform him, “I’m not part of a ‘we.’”

“You are now.”

Shit. I kind of was.

“Okay, hotshot, here’s the deal. I don’t do teams and I don’t do partners, but I thought about it, and since you’re here and it’ll help my cover, you, Pete, and Fallon can act as my security.”