I had one job. Watch Nicky’s son. Instead, I was on his treadmill, earbuds blasting, ass bouncing, totally zoned out, and the kid slipped right past me. Nicky came home and fired me on the spot. Ouch. But a good girl knows how to make things right. A few nights later, a brutal snowstorm hits, and guess who’s at his door? Me, soaked and shivering, my thin top clinging to every curve. He lets me in to warm up, and I push him down on the couch. “Let me make it up to you,” I whisper, sinking to my knees. He tries to stay mad. He really tries. But I’ve got a very persuasive mouth, and I know how to use it to get what I want. The couch was just the warm-up. Then I grab his hand, walk right past that treadmill, and pull him into his bed. Forget miles. Tonight I’m racking up reps, riding him nice and slow until he’s the one out of breath. Second chance earned. And honestly? I’m thinking about getting fired again.