I’d be out of the first job I’ve truly loved, and it would be my own stupid fault.
Why did I let myself drink so much last night?
Because it was fun to finally forget about everything and let your hair down.
My vision is blurred for a few seconds as my eyes adjust to the darkness around me, but the moment I recognize the soft fibers of the carpet beneath me, I breathe a huge sigh of relief.
It’s not wet. I haven’t flooded anything.
I flop back into the incredibly comfortable bed, sinking into the memory foam that’s given me one of the best night’s sleep of my life, and close my eyes again, trying to banish the headache with nothing but willpower.
I forget about the sound of running water now that I know I haven’t destroyed the place, and my mind drifts back to what I remember from the night before.
Laughter. I remember a lot of laughter. So much that when I attempt to smile at the memory of dancing with Casey like I didn’t have a care in the world, my cheeks still hurt. That is a definite sign of a good night.
It’s not until the sound of running water stops that my eyes open again.
What the?—
Movement on the other side of the room has me lifting my head from the pillow, and the second the person responsible for the noise appears, I swear my eyes open wide enough for them to pop clean out of my head.
“Holy…wow,” I breathe, unable to hold the words in as what I can only describe as a god walks toward me, fresh from a shower.
Water drips from his hair, running over his shoulders and down his chest. The drips chase the defined muscles of his abs before racing down his deep V lines and soaking into the towel wrapped around his waist.
“I…I…” I try to swallow, but my mouth is as dry as the desert. “W-what…why are you…”
He smirks at my attempt to string a sentence together.
Anyone would think I’ve never seen a naked man before.
I have. I’ve seen a couple, actually.
But not one of them looked anything like Cole.
They were lean and slender.
Cole is…well, he’s huge. His muscles…the definition…all topped off by a scattering of tattoos that make him look even more untouchable.
He’s a man who was made to be worshiped.
He’s…damn. He’s beautiful in the most rugged, manly kind of way.
His shoulders are impossibly wide, his inked upper arms solid with nothing but pure muscle. His six-pack is the thing dreams are made of. And as my eyes drop lower, I swallow again, moisture suddenly returning to my mouth as I try to imagine what he might look like if the towel suddenly vanished.
Phew, is it hot in here or is it me?
No, it’s most definitely him.
I have no idea how much time passes as I lie there blatantly checking him out. Honestly, it could be seconds or an hour. It’s all a blur.
Finally, he speaks, and the four words he says rock me to my very core.
“You’re in my bed.”
I sit up in a rush, the covers falling to my waist. My brows pinch as my eyes jump back up to his.
“N-no,” I stutter, my fuzzy head spinning.
