Nemesis(11)

“What are we watching?” I ask him, cracking open my bottle of water and taking a sip. “Are you sure no one wants a drink or anything? I can bring out some snacks if anyone is hungry.”

I can at least try to be a good host; the last thing I want to do is come off as rude when really I’m just an introvert who would rather not be in this situation right now. I’m not drunk enough to be happy and social, and Cohen is here. And he’s the real reason why I agreed to the date with Rob, because I was on ‘mission don’t think about Cohen,’ which I’ve obviously failed.

Ian and Sadie want more alcohol, so Sadie brings out some wine and beer, and we all sit there watching some movie that Cohen picked, one that seems way too serious for a drinks/date night, but whatever. My arm brushing his, I feel the warmth of his skin and want nothing more than to melt into him, but I don’t. Instead, I sit there a little stiffly, smelling his spicy cologne and wishing that for one night I could pretend that I don’t work with him, so I can just bring him back to my room and let him have his way with me. Once Rob goes home, of course.

Oh, right. Rob.

I glance over at him to see his eyes on me, not the TV. Sadie and Ian, who are cuddled together and completely oblivious to anything else going on, start whispering to each other. If they leave me alone with Cohen and Rob, I will have to commit murder. Surely, Rob will take the hint and leave though, right? He can’t plan to stay here all night, giving me and Cohen dirty looks. I do feel bad, but not all dates work out well. You win some, and you lose some, and Rob can’t expect me to act how Sadie is around Ian, because there’s just no chemistry there whatsoever. Besides, no man can compete with Cohen, as much as it pains me to admit. He’s too… whatever he is. Just… everything. Everything a woman like me could possibly want in a man.

Cohen casually wraps his arm around me, and I finally get to bury my head in his chest. I know I’m being rude right now, but I hope my actions make Rob leave. He won’t take the hint, and I feel like if I’d have just been a honest * from the start, instead of nice, I wouldn’t be in this situation right now. I stop thinking about all the reasons that this is inappropriate and decide to enjoy the moment, closing my eyes, not caring about the movie. I make a soft moaning noise against his chest, and I know he hears it, because his arm tightens around me.

Fuck.

We’re skating on thin ice right now. I know it, and I know that he does too.

I can’t believe he’s here, in my house, and I’m in his arms. Like we’re a couple or something. Like I’m more than just his work colleague. What the f*ck am I doing? So much for not thinking about it. I keep my eyes closed, and eventually I half fall asleep.

Rob leaves.

Sadie and Ian head back to her room.

And Cohen and I stay here, cuddled together on the couch, wrapped around each other. I lift my head and look at him. His eyes were closed, but they open when he feels me moving. Without a word, I slide off him and offer him my hand.

He takes it.

I lead him through the dark hall, into my room. He takes off his shoes— I had slid mine off earlier—and we both slip underneath the sheets. I usually sleep without a bra, but I don’t dare take it off. I don’t dare to move at all, except to lay my head on his chest once more.

He kisses my forehead, and I stop breathing.

Then, even though all I want to do is jump him, to kiss him, to feel him everywhere, to have him pound into me, I listen to my head over my body.

And I go to sleep.

And Cohen, he does the same.





Chapter Six


When I wake up, Cohen is already awake.

I lift my head and look at his face. I still can’t believe we spent the night in my bed, cuddling. How did this even happen? What do I do now? I have to say that I never thought I’d be in this situation, but here I am. Should I be offended that he didn’t make a move on me last night, or grateful? I really don’t know. I’m glad I won’t have to sit at work, thinking about how I spent one night with him, but we did still cuddle all night, which is, in a way, even more complicated than a one-night stand. We didn’t have sex, but we still wanted to be here, with each other. That reeks of something more confusing than a case of out of control lust. I notice him staring at the wall, brows furrowing in concentration.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” I ask him, my husky morning voice making an appearance.

He looks down at me, his lip twitching. “Just trying to remember the last time I slept next to a woman without f*cking her beforehand.”

“Charming,” I mutter, closing my eyes again. What do I do now? Say, ‘Thanks for the cuddle session, bye, I’ll see you at work tomorrow’? I know, coffee. I’ll offer him some coffee. “I’m going to make some coffee. Do you want some?”

“Yes, please,” he rumbles, but pulls me back into bed when I try and move. “Stop overthinking shit, Jacinta. Nothing happened.”

I know that nothing happened—trust me, I was there—but still, it’s not like it’s normal to do what we did. Who just has casual sleepovers with their boss? Me, apparently.

He runs his hand through my hair, almost roughly, but it feels good. He massages my scalp a little, then lets me go.

“The bathroom is through that door,” I tell him, pointing. “Let me know if I can get you anything.” I pause, committing his ‘I just woke up’ look to memory, before I rise from the bed. “I’ll go make the coffee now.”