Callan lay sprawled on the bed of his hotel room, a dim golden glow from the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the ceiling.
The girl next to him was pressing kisses along his jawline, her voice low and sultry as she traced lazy patterns around his nipples.
Despite how good she was at what she was doing, it wasn't enough to distract him from the thoughts crowding his mind.
Emily.
Was she asleep? Was her head buried in one of her boring medical texts? Or was she hunched over her laptop writing?
Was she still upset? How long more was she going to stay mad? he wondered.
His eyes flickered toward his phone resting on the nightstand. He chewed the inside of his cheek, debating for the fifth time whether to call her and find out if she was settling in well or just let her be.
She hadn't exactly been warm earlier, but still, she was his guest and it was her first night in his house. Leaving her alone there might not have been the best move.
