I can’t be in his bed.
I’m in his guest room. He’s the one who’s in my room.
“Yes,” he breathes, his voice light with amusement.
Ripping my eyes from his, I glance around.
It takes a second for me to really register what I’m seeing. But the moment I do, a loud gasp fills the air.
I’m in Cole Hansley’s room.
I’m in Cole Hansley’s freaking bed.
Practically naked.
My fingers grasp the sheets, and I tug them up, hiding my lace-covered breasts from him.
“Oh my god. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Mortification burns through me. I swear, every inch of my body is red with embarrassment. It takes every ounce of strength not to pull the sheets over my head to hide from this entire situation. “I didn’t know. I came home last night and…and…I was really drunk. I’m sorry. If you could just leave me alone for a minute, I’ll get dressed and leave. You never need to see me again. I’m sorry, I?—”
He moves closer, and my words cut off when he lowers himself to the edge of the bed.
“Freya,” he says firmly. “Will you please stop apologizing?”
I sit there with my eyes locked on the sheets before me, my chest heaving as I spin out.
I’ve screwed this up.
He’s going to fire me.
He thinks I’m one of those bunnies who just want to get into his pants.
I just…I was really drunk.
A sob erupts without permission, and it only makes the situation worse.
Another apology burns on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down. He’s told me to stop, and I figure that I can at least attempt to do something right.
“Hey,” he says softly a beat before his warm fingers press beneath my chin, forcing me to look up at him.
His eyes bounce between mine. Tears balance on my lashes, threatening to spill over as regret rolls through me.
I never should have agreed when he offered for me to stay here. It was blurring the line between employer and employee. I should have been more professional and refused. It wouldn’thave been that much of an inconvenience to just go home last night. A few more dollars on a ride share and a few more minutes before I could have gotten into bed. Certainly not enough to risk my job.
“Deep breath in through your nose, Freya.”
Unable to do anything but what I’m told, I focus on his eyes and fill my lungs.
“And out through your mouth,” he instructs, his voice soft and encouraging. “Again.”
So I do. And after a couple of seconds, I begin to relax. Well, as much as I can while I’m sitting in his bed in only my lingerie and he’s wrapped in only a towel.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, unable to contain the words.
He gives me a hard stare, but he doesn’t say a word.
His hand falls away, and I immediately miss the warmth of his touch.
“Let me get dressed, then I’ll leave you to sort yourself out.”
