Boss I Love to Hate: An Office Romance(60)

I opened one eye and shot up to a sitting position, nearly toppling over again from the wild pounding in my head. But then I realized I was straddling Brad, who was clearly smiling.

Why must I always find myself in the most compromising situations with this man? Always on top of him.

“Morning, Shorts.” He stretched his arms over his head and yawned. He was shirtless and sported the sexiest bedhead I’d ever seen on a man.

I stood straight up on the bed and then realized I was only in underwear and a bra.

I covered myself with my hands, walked off the bed, and face-planted on the floor.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” The pain from landing on my elbow shot up my arm.

Immediately, Brad was beside me, scooping me up and placing me on the bed.

I pushed at his chest. “No.” The dizziness took over, and I fell back against the mattress. I threw one arm over my eyes. “Please tell me we didn’t sleep together.” I rubbed a shaky finger against my temple. “Please. Please. Please.”

The bed indented by the weight of him, and he grabbed my hand and pulled it from my eyes.

“We didn’t,” he said, all humor gone from his face.

I squinted against the sunlight peeking through my curtains. I exhaled in relief. “So, we didn’t?”

“No, Sonia.” There was that I’m up to no good smirk again.

I swallowed hard. “Do I still have a job? Because I really, really love my job.”

He blinked, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say no. And then I would cry or throw up. Because I loved my place and being on my own, and I still felt sick from all the liquor I’d had yesterday.

His eyebrows pulled together as though he were contemplating, but then, with a tip of his chin, he answered. “Yes. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Thank God.” My eyes flew to the ceiling and then back to his face. “Why am I practically naked then?”

“You asked me to help you out of your clothes.” He rubbed his thumb at my bottom lip, and I pushed his hand away.

I tilted my head. “I did? I don’t remember that.” Shoot, when did this happen?

I tried to replay my last memory from the night before and realized I didn’t remember coming home. Well, this couldn’t be good.

His expression was tender. “You don’t remember a lot of things from last night, do you?”

A whole slew of scenarios filtered through my head, but the worst one—where we were both doing the naked dance together—had been avoided. Thank goodness. Nothing would’ve been worse than that.

“What else happened?”

He swallowed, and then the smile slipped from his features.

“Tell me, Brad!” I held my breath. My voice was whisper soft, and my body lay still, as I was afraid of what he was going to say. “Brad …”

“Well, what’s the last thing you remember?”

I paused, trying to recall. “I remember the ceremony and …” I cringed. “… part of the reception but not too much. I had a lot to drink.”

“You didn’t throw up. I’m pretty impressed.”

“I never throw up,” I said matter-of-factly. “But I never black out either.” I guessed there was a first for everything. I blinked up at him.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve never had that much to drink either.”

He lay beside me, one arm behind his head. It should’ve been uncomfortable that I was practically naked beside him, but shit, I simply lay there as though I were fully clothed. Plus, he wasn’t looking at my body like a creep; he was scouring my face.

“I have never, ever been that drunk.” I rubbed at my temple, and the pain seemed to subside. “And I never will again.”

Brad held this secret smile as though he were replaying all the embarrassing things I’d done last night in his head.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What else did I ask you to do? You’re holding back. I know you are.”

He held a secret smile. “Kiss you.”

My eyes widened. “When?”

“Last night, after you told me to undress you.”

“All right then.” But then I remembered he had kissed me. “We kissed after the ceremony.”

“We did.” He dipped his chin. “There was more.” And his stupid smile appeared then.

“When, where, how? Just tell me.” The back of my neck turned unbelievably hot, warmth spreading down my body. Could your stomach flush with color? ’Cause I was pretty sure mine was right now.

I didn’t know what was worse—not knowing or having to relive the whole ordeal by him repeating it.

“Kisses on the dance floor and some more back here.” He laughed.

“Like peck kiss? Muah or … more?”

“So much more.” His tone was cocky and indulgent. “So much. We made out for hours.”

I groaned and threw one arm over my eyes again. “You are so enjoying this. I hate you.”

He chuckled, a deep sound in the back of his throat. “You wouldn’t be able to tell from how you were acting last night.”

This was way too amusing for him. I slapped his chest, and when I tried to hit him again, he held my hand and intertwined our fingers.

Awk-freaking-ward.