Sophia
I wake up in a haze. The urge to pee is so strong it’s like there’s a dumbbell on my bladder. I wobble to my feet and keep my eyes mostly closed to try to keep my sleepiness.
I wander into the hall and turn right. It’s not until I feel the warm floor on my feet that I remember where I am. Shit. I’m not in my apartment.
I’m in James’s penthouse. And this place is dark . The blinds are closed over the windows, and there is no faint light coming from any electronics to lead the way. It’s like I’m in a cave. I should’ve brought my phone, but I thought I was in my own apartment, where I don’t keep it casket black.
I turn to retrace my steps to the bedroom. I never had to leave in the first place since it has its own bathroom, unlike my own apartment. I’m walking in the dark, hands patting the walls like I’m Velma.
I’ve already walked too far. I must’ve missed the doorway. But how? I swear I couldn’t have come from anywhere else. This place is a maze in the dark, and I can’t even find a light switch.
I walk a little faster with my arms sticking out in front of me, and eventually I find a bathroom. I take a pit stop to pee before resuming my journey.
I think I remember passing this little half bath on the way to the guest suite. If I don’t take any turns, the bedroom should be at the end of the hall. I hate all this thinking. It’s waking me up. I sleepily close my eyes while sitting on the toilet.
When I’m done, I walk slowly down the pitch-black hall, and sure enough my bedroom is at the end of it. Mission accomplished.
I paw my way to the bed, open the covers, and throw them over me. I take a big sigh of relief, and by the time the air is out of my lungs, the world is blurring back to sleep.
I wake up to warmth. I’m too hot. Uncomfortably, hot. My face is pressed against something—warm, too, and not as soft as a mattress or pillow.
I frown and lean back. My heart jumps. It’s bright enough to see from the dawn light that comes through the window that there’s a man in my bed.
Or wait… I’m in a man’s bed.
Shit, shit, shit. I didn’t get back to the right room when I woke up in the middle of the night. Did I seriously stumble into James’s bedroom in the dark?
He’s going to think I’m some hair-smelling stalker.
I’m lying on his chest, to make matters even worse. Luckily, he seems to have stayed asleep. It’s dawn, but barely. It’s just light enough to make out the soft shapes of things.
I move my arm back that was draped over him, and my heart flutters as it hits a speed bump. I know what I felt. My fingers grazed the hard outline of his cock pressed against his boxers.
My heart beats violently. Maybe he has his left hand in his pants. Maybe that was his arm. That would make much more sense than the shampoo bottle sized obstruction I just felt. But I’ve touched enough penises to know. So James wasn’t just joking about eight inches in the car.
I start to scoot silently to begin my escape, but just as I do, James stirs and shifts so he’s facing me. His hands fall directly on the crotch of my underwear.
It feels like a hot iron sizzling into my core. I can feel the weight of his big hand against my clit, and then to my absolute shock, he rubs me, just once, strongly, passionately, but it’s enough to make my vision go starry. His hand rests still. I think he’s still asleep. Maybe his subconscious just senses there’s a woman in his bed.
The pressure of his hand drives me wild. It’s just a thin layer of fabric away from my skin. I lie there for a moment, letting the fiery feeling of lust bloom out from my panties.
This can’t go any further. I’m just picturing him waking up mad. How can I explain this? He’ll think I’m batshit crazy. And I am, for staying here so much as an extra second.
I need to get out of here. I move his arm off my crotch and position my feet on the floor to stand, but just as I do, his alarm starts to go off.
Oh no. I should just run. Use the sound of the alarm to mask my escape, but before I can summon the guts to do so, James stirs and turns it off. I watch him frown. He can sense my presence.
He raises his head and looks at me. His bedhead shows off the incredible volume of his thick hair. I’m too nervous to speak.
“Um… Good morning, Goldilocks.” James sits up on his elbows.
“I went to find a bathroom in the middle of the night. It was super dark. I must’ve thought this was my bed. I swear I’m not a psycho.” I try to laugh but fail. I also fail to not sound crazy. I’m talking at a mile a minute.
He stretches like this is no big deal. He is an expert at making people feel comfortable when they’ve fucked up, I’ll give him that. “It’s a bit of a maze, I’ll admit. And I do keep it dark.”
“It’s like the Bat Cave.”
“It’s not that dark,” he teases, like maybe this wasn’t an accident on my part, and then he gets up out of bed as casually as if we dated. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers, and I can still see the bulge of his length. I don’t dare let my eyes linger there, but they do get stuck on his abs.
They fit into each other like razor-sharp puzzle pieces. Above is his broad chest and the long sexy clefts above his collar bones.
I should get someone to sculpt him. I wouldn’t mind having an entire James Callaway collection at the gallery. I don’t care if the era isn’t classic—the lean, muscled look sure is.
He puts on a pair of sweatpants, and his abs flex as he does, showing their jagged geometry. “You don’t work today, do you?”
I’m embarrassingly slow to speak. What did he say? I’m busy staring at his body. “No,” I finally say. I still can’t bring myself to get out of his bed.
“Okay. Tomorrow there’s going to be a meeting at the gallery. It’s about our next focus in terms of collections.”
“Oh, so things are changing?”
“You could say that. My ownership is going to come with an influx of new purchases. I didn’t buy it to keep the status quo.”
“That’s not what you said in your speech.”
“With sudden news, you don’t want anybody getting scared. You bring change on subtly. Slowly. Art majors scare easy.”
“Hey, I’m an art major.”
“Case in point.”
“What makes you think I’m a scaredy cat?”
“Um… you’re sleeping in my bed.”
“Because you Hulk smashed my door. You don’t know what it’s like to be a woman. No one is after your ass, James.”
“You’d be surprised,” he says and tilts his head with a grimace, like he’s had some incidents.
He’s right about that, I realize. I’m sure a man as rich and handsome as him gets some inappropriate attention from women, but the power dynamic simply isn’t the same. I try to explain it.
“Okay, so if the craziest girl you know lived in this building, would you sleep with your door wide open?”
“Fuck no.” His eyes flash like he’s picturing what might happen to him if he did, and then he tells me, “I’d wake up in a tub of ice, castrated.”
“So imagine every woman could be a threat to you like that, because that’s how we have to think of men.”
James squints. “Sounds awful.”
“It is.” I nod. “So don’t call me a scaredy cat.”
“Fine. You’re not a scaredy cat.”
“But speaking of which…” I look around the bedroom as if Steve might be here. “I have to find my cat.”
“And I’ve got to get dressed for work. It’s late.” He nods at the clock, which reads 6:33. “Your door is probably being fixed already.”
“Thanks.”
“Least I could do. I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow.” James goes into the bathroom and starts the shower. This seems to be my dismissal.
I want to thank him for letting me stay over and not flipping out over the fact that I ended up in his freaking bed.
I’m not about to bake him cookies. But… maybe I should? If nothing else than to just see the look of confusion on his face as I come knocking on his door to hand them over.
The bathroom door isn’t quite shut all the way, and just hearing him splash in the shower is making my heart hammer. He’s in there, naked and steamy. I get up and leave, listening to the water trickle. For some reason, something left in the air from our conversations, I don’t think he’d protest if I joined him.
But that’s all the more reasons to get out of here as quickly as possible.