Chapter 23 Freya
FREYA
The brass band that seems to have taken up residence in my head is the first thing I notice as I begin to wake.
The second thing is the sound of running water.
For a moment, I don’t think anything of it. But then the panic hits.
My eyes fly open and I surge forward, propping myself up on my elbow before rolling toward the edge of the mattress.
I’ll never forgive myself if I drunkenly ran Cole’s bath when I got in last night and flooded his beautiful penthouse.
God, how embarrassing would that be?
I bet just the carpet in this room alone is worth a fortune, let alone the wooden flooring that covers the living area.
I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again.
I certainly wouldn’t be able to step foot back inside his home.
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.
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’t have 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.”
His eyes hold mine for a few more seconds, as if he’s waiting for me to argue.
I swallow any words that want to spill free, because more than saying them, I really need to get out of Cole’s bed and put some clothes on.
Not a second later, he’s standing to his full height and turning his back on me.
My chin drops at the sight of his muscles rippling as he walks into his dressing room. Jesus. The back is just as incredible as the front. I can’t even begin to imagine how many hours it takes to create a body like that.
He shuffles around while I continue sitting there with the sheets clutched to my chest, waiting for him to emerge so I can dart across the hall and into the room I’m meant to be in.
I could go now, but Murphy’s law tells me that the second I attempt to escape, he’ll appear, and he’ll get an eyeful of my ass as well as my tits.
Christ.
With that image in my head, I stay put and just wait.
The scent of his cologne wafts through the air a beat before he emerges, now dressed in a pair of sweats and a fitted white T-shirt. He might be covered, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have the image of his almost naked body burned into my brain.
“Take your time. I ate before we left, so I can wait a while yet,” he tells me as he makes his way to the door. “There’s a bottle of water and some Tylenol on the nightstand for you.”
My head twists, and just like he said, there they are, waiting.
“Thank you,” I breathe as he walks out the door.
“Don’t beat yourself up over this, Freya. I know it was an accident.”
“I still have a job?” I ask in a rush before he disappears.
He chuckles. “Of course. I’ll see you in a few.”
I sit frozen in the middle of his bed until his footsteps have long faded.
Once I’m confident that he’s as far away as he can be, I drop the sheets and eagerly reach for the painkillers.
What I really need to do is curl back up under his soft sheets while they begin to kick in and lessen the pounding in my skull. But I can’t stay in his bed any longer.
I count to ten, and then I throw the covers off my body and slowly walk toward the door.
My head spins, and my stomach sloshes a little. I’m desperate to pee, but I need to be in the safety of the guest room before I do anything.
I pause at the door, trying to summon up the courage to dart across the hallway.
Cole has gone. He’s not out here waiting to watch your walk of shame.
I shake my head, wishing the embarrassment would subside. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be something I’m forced to live with for a while.
Who the hell gets so drunk that they sleep in their boss’s bed instead of the one they’re supposed to?
It’s like something you watch in a movie or read in a book. Although, usually, I’m pretty sure that would end with a little more…pleasure.
Christ, Freya. Get your head out of the gutter.
Just because you’ve almost seen the guy naked, it doesn’t mean you need to start fantasizing about him.
But those shoulders…
Forcing the images from my head, I straighten my spine and pull the door open.
The guest room is right across the hall, waiting for me.
I glance out, just to double-check he isn’t waiting to laugh at me. And once I’m sure the coast is clear, I dart across.
My heart is in my throat as I close the door behind me and rest against it. Anyone would think I’d just run a marathon, not a few feet between bedroom doors.
Unable to wait any longer, I march toward the bathroom and pee.
“Jesus,” I mutter when I get to the sink and look in the mirror hanging above it.
I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge and then back again.
My makeup is smeared everywhere. My smudged eyeliner makes me look like a panda, and I’ve got red lipstick up my cheek. I’m sure in the darkness of Cole’s room, I could have been mistaken for a clown.
Reaching for my toiletry bag, I attempt to fix the situation before I peel my lingerie off and step into the shower.
The water is scalding hot and my skin prickles, but I don’t adjust it.
Instead, I embrace it and hope it can wash away all my regrets and embarrassment.
Somehow, I’ve got to walk out there and face him.
I have no idea how I’m going to manage that when all I want to do is run and hide.