8. Meghan
EIGHT
Meghan
I think I might throw up .
Too many cocktails last night have left me with the hangover of all hangovers. Gingerly rolling onto my side so as not to upset my stomach any more than necessary, I feel around for my phone to check the time.
Urgh, it’s four in the morning!
Why am I even awake?
Shoving it back on the side table, I roll onto my back to be met with an unfamiliar ceiling. A frown creases my brow as I lean up onto my elbows to look around the entirely unfamiliar bedroom and the sheet slides down to reveal my bare chest.
Something isn’t quite right.
Even taking out the fact that this isn’t my room, I don’t ever sleep naked.
There are no mementos, or family photos, or… anything, ju st furniture. The room is practically bare, with white walls, dark side tables, a bed and a chair in the corner.
Have I gone home with a serial killer?
There are three doors in the room, one I assume leads to the bathroom, one to the hallway and the other, which is slightly ajar, looks to be a walk-in closet. There’s artwork on the walls, but with the lights off and the floor-length curtains closed, it’s hard to be certain what they are of.
There’s a warmth radiating from beside me and I close my eyes, praying to God that he’s at least hot.
Sucking in a deep breath, I turn my head to the right where the sleeping face of none other than Cooper fucking Jackson greets me.
I smack my hand over my mouth, internally screaming at myself as my eyes grow wide.
What the hell happened last night?
Why the hell am I naked in my boss’s bed?
As soon as I ask myself the question, a montage of images flashes through my mind. They start at the club with me kissing him, then pulling away. Him devouring my mouth like a starved man. In his car, with me straddling his lap in the back seat.
Oh God.
I sucked his cock.
I’m going to have to quit my job .
He ate my pussy, and I begged him for more.
Yep, definitely quitting my job .
Realizing I need to get the fuck out of dodge, I slowly lift the covers to get up. My damn eyes betray me and dart over to his body, as if trying to get one last look at him.
Shit.
My teeth dig into my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning, both at my predicament and the fact that temptation is lying next to me. He’s semi-hard, but even so, his cock is impressive as it lays heavy against his stomach, thick in girth and long in length.
Moving my eyes up over his taut abs, I can tell he works out but doesn’t spend hours upon hours in the gym. My eyes settle on his face as I slowly settle the blanket back against his sleeping form. As quickly and quietly as I can, I slip out of the bed.
I’m going to have to dissect last night when I get home, or at least out of this building.
Grabbing my phone as I search the dark room for my dress, I’m grateful for the slivers of light sneaking through the gaps in the heavy curtains.
I wish I had more time to stop and take in the glimpse of the man I work for.
Correction, worked for, because I can’t carry on working for him. Not now.
As I’m about to make my way to the door, my dress clutched to my chest, there’s movement from the bed.
Freezing in place and trying to hide in the shadows of the room, I glance toward him as he rolls over onto his stomach.
I hold my breath for fear that he will hear my breathing in the silence of the room and I’ll be forced to address… this.
As soon as he’s settled, I race across the room as quietly as I possibly can, praying the door I’ve chosen isn’t the door to the bathroom. With my hand on the doorknob, I fall still when I hear another moan and more movement coming from the bed.
“Meghan,” he murmurs.
Please, don’t make me do this, not right now.
“You like that, baby?” he moans.
Thank God , he’s just dreaming.
But also… what the fuck? He’s dreaming about me? I’m going to have to pack that away for later.
Stealing one last glance over my shoulder, I open the door and slip out, closing it behind me. My heart races and my palms sweat. I feel like I’ve just got away with breaking out of the White House.
In the hallway, I step into my dress and smooth my hands down the front before searching for my shoes and purse, both of which I locate near the front door. Checking that I have everything I think I came with, I place my hand on the doorknob and take one last look around.
Wait, where’s my coat?
I don’t remember picking it up from the cloakroom and a quick glance in my bag for the token confirms I didn’t.
Great, I’ll have to freeze my ass off waiting for an Uber.
Opening the door, I step into the safety of the corridor, before closing it quietly behind me. I move down the hallway before stopping to put on my shoes, not daring to make a noise on the hardwood flooring.
At the elevator, I request an Uber and pray it’ll be outside by the time I reach the lobby before pressing the button to go down. Much like Cooper Jackson, the building is suave and gives off a ‘rich vibe’.
How much must I stick out ?
I can imagine I’m giving off Pretty Woman vibes, with my too short dress, makeup that must be long gone and hair in desperate need of a brush. The flooring in the hall probably cost more than all the furniture in my apartment, and that thought alone causes me to clutch my purse even harder.
Maybe I should’ve put my shoes on outside.
When the elevator arrives, I step inside and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored walls.
I look like I’ve been well and truly fucked.
It’s just as I predicted; my hair is a tangled mess and my makeup is pretty much non-existent other than the smudges of mascara under my eyes and some patchy eyeliner.
My lips are swollen from kisses and there’s a slight rash across my chin from his stubble.
I lift my hand to my lips, running my fingers over them, tracing the marks he’s made on my body.
A need builds in my core and I rub my thighs together in an effort to ease the ache the memory of last night causes, berating myself for still wanting more of him.
I’m still staring at my reflection, lost in my own thoughts, when I reach the lobby. The doors open behind me and are about to close again before I snap myself out of my haze. Rushing through them, I make my way across the lobby.
Thankfully, it’s quiet, although I make brief eye contact with the elderly concierge before I divert my gaze and rush through the double doors. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see my Uber sitting at the curb. A perk, I guess, of needing a ride at four in the morning.
Sitting securely in the back, I can finally take a minute to comprehend what has happened. The Uber is cruising down the streets of Manhattan when the gravity of what I’ve done hits me.
I slept with my boss .
How could I be so stupid?
I bring my hand to my mouth in an effort to muffle the sob that is trying to break through. How could I jeopardize my livelihood over something as silly as getting laid? I guess I only have myself to blame for making such a stupid mistake. I shouldn’t have drunk so much. Or kissed him.
I’m going to have to find a new job, or move back home if I can’t find one.
It was a mistake and there’s no getting around it.
I can’t leave my job straight away, so I’m going to have to face him on Monday with my head held high and tell him it was a mistake and we should forget it happened.
Maybe then I stand a chance at not completely ruining my life.
I had the best sex of my life with the one man I’ve wanted for months. That doesn’t seem like a mistake… except he’s my boss.
Argh! He’s my boss.
I don’t sleep with people I work with. He was supposed to be unattainable.
My mind continues running over last night and before I know it, I’m home, rehydrated, showered, in my PJs and climbing into bed.
Lying back against my pillows, I close my eyes in an effort to get some more rest and sleep away the rest of the alcohol still coursing through my veins.
Flashes of vivid memories from last night play out behind my closed eyelids like a movie.
I didn’t even know it was possible for me to come that many times in a row.
Mr. Jackson. I guess I can call him Cooper now .
The feel of his warm, rough skin on mine when he’d dragged me across the dance floor. Cooper thrusting his hands into my hair, cursing under his breath before his lips crashed into mine as he pressed me against the wall in our dark space.
I need to get some sleep.
Maybe when I wake up, it will turn out this is actually a dream. Or if it isn’t, I can at least have a clearer head and be able to come up with a plan—like finding a new job.
Punching my pillow, I turn over and banish the images from my mind.
Or, at least I try to.
In the distance, I can hear a banging noise, like someone’s smacking a nail with a hammer but constantly missing and hitting the wall. Turning over and burrowing further into the covers in an attempt to ignore it, I give up the pretense when it gets more insistent and wakes me up fully.
I’m going to hunt down whoever it is and make them pay for waking me up. Don’t they get that I’m trying to sleep away a night of mistakes?
Wiping the sleep from my eyes as I sit up in bed, I realize the banging noise is coming from my front door.
Is someone hammering something into my door?
I climb out of bed, and grab my robe from behind the bedroom door as I head toward the noise.
Maybe I can get whoever it is to quit with the noise and get some more sleep.
Looking through the peephole, I’m greeted to the sight of Alex, with her fist raised to bang on the door again. Pulling it open, I paste a smile on my face, if only to hide my hungover state.
Thank God I showered when I got home .
“You look like crap. Where did you disappear to last night?” Alex declares as she breezes into my apartment.
I close the door before turning to face her. “I… uh… I wasn’t feeling great, so I decided to call it a night,” I lie.
There’s no way I can tell Alex that I had sex with our boss. She’s a great friend and I have no doubt that she would be super supportive, but something tells me this is something I should keep to myself. Nobody besides me and Cooper needs to know about our little… indiscretion.
“Are you feeling better now?” she asks, her eyes roaming over my face.
“Oh yes, I just needed some sleep. ”
“Good. You should’ve said something. I would have left with you.
” Before I can respond, she continues, “After I couldn’t find you, I went out to grab a cab.
I figured you’d met someone or something, and I got to talking to that bouncer.
Oh my God, Meghan, he’s so funny…” Alex continues on about the bouncer as she leads the way into my kitchen.
Did she not drink as much as me last night?
She’s way too perky for my liking this morning .
I know my friend and something seems off, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is…
My galley kitchen is barely big enough for me and Alex to have a coffee and a chat.
The cabinets are white, with light oak-colored handles that match the countertops, and at the end of the room is a window with a view of the street below.
I try to keep my space, as small as it is, as free of clutter as possible—so the counters only have the basics on them, allowing me room to cook.
I’m half listening to what Alex is saying, while making us both a drink and grabbing myself something to line my stomach. I’m hungover, and in the back of my mind I’m having a panic attack at the thought of what I’ve done.
Was it a mistake? Yes.
Would I do it again? Also yes.
Am I angry at myself for having fucked my boss? No, not really.
I’m in this weird sort of place where I know we shouldn’t have done what we did but I feel like it was bound to happen at some point.
It was inevitable.
I just wish we could have made a plan before we crossed the line.
“Coffee?” I ask, grabbing mugs from the cupboard as I make a pot, trying to distract myself.
“Sure. So… did you have fun last night, before you went home sick?” Alex asks.
“I did. I had a really good time. It was the most fun I’ve had in ages. Did you have a good night?”
“I did. We should go out more often. I liked the club. Maybe we can go again.”
“Sure. Maybe your bouncer boyfriend can get us in,” I joke.
“Umm, yeah. I’ll see what I can do,” she murmurs as I hand her a mug of hot coffee.
There’s definitely something she isn’t telling me. I guess we’re both keeping secrets from each other today.
“Are you excited for the Miami trip?” Alex asks.
“Honestly?” She nods, encouraging me to continue. “I’d rather not go.”
“What? Why? It’s Miami. I’m jealous that you get to go.”
Thinking on my feet, I say, “Well, it’s not exactly going to be warm, and he’s probably going to make me work the whole time, so I won’t even get to enjoy it.”
Alex’s face scrunches in disgust before she responds, “Urgh, that’s so true. Okay, I was jealous, but not anymore. ”
Alex doesn’t stay for long, and she leaves with a promise to see me tomorrow for our regular Sunday dinner.
I spend the remainder of my Saturday trying to sleep off the hangover from hell and ignoring the fact that I don’t see or hear from Cooper at all.
My anxiety over whatever may wait for me come Monday morning only increases over the weekend.
I have a million questions running through my mind. Do I want him to act as if nothing happened? Ask why I left? Or do I want him to demand that I give him a chance? In a perfect world, I would choose option three. But this isn’t a perfect world.
One thing I do determine is that I can’t work for a man that would see me as just another notch on his bedpost.
Over the Christmas break, when I’m back home with my parents and away from the noise of New York, I’ll evaluate my next steps and look for a new job.