Happy New Year, everyone!

I am so thrilled at the response from the previous chapter! From the reviews, to the PMs, to the Tumblr messages, the amount of support you've given me is amazing! I am so sorry it took me as long as it did to post this chapter. Between my father-in-law passing away right before Christmas, the craziness of the holidays, and having an awful case of writer's block, it took me a little longer than I had hoped to get into the swing of things. However, thanks to some fabulous advice shared by my SUPER AMAZING BETA, I was finally able to unclog the block and get this thing going!

Which brings me to my SUPERSIZED KUDOS to Pia Bartolini and the time she took out of her own busy life to help make really polish this chapter. Thank you so, so much! Your edits and epic comments really helped get this chapter ready. I am so, so thankful for your help!

I hope all of you enjoy this chapter... Please let me know what you think!

The brim of the ceramic mug reaches my lips once more. I quietly sip the weak tea I attempted to make in the dark, but the taste of the drink is the last thing on my mind.

Currently, I am seated on the arm of the oversized chair in the corner of the hotel room, my eyes trained on my bed. Correction: who is currently sleeping in my bed. As I take in the sight of his torso and how enticing his facial features are as he sleeps, I can't help but feel my anxiety rise with the sun.

What the hell happens now? Now that I've slept with my boss… I mean, Darien, last night.

I mean, for starters, he is my boss. My boss. Not some colleague, or someone I met in a bar last night, but the person that I report to each and every day. The person who determines whether or not I remain employed at the company. Who decides my salary. All important things I apparently didn't bother to take into consideration the moment we kissed.

Second, that kiss. Holy fuck, that kiss. And not just that, but his hands, his fingers, his mouth, his … I clear my throat surreptitiously to calm myself. I don't know what he would rate last night's performance, but, hot damn, I can't remember my toes ever curling like that. And then I passed out in exhaustion shortly thereafter, completely drained from the raw, sexual intensity of last night. Satisfied in every sense of the word.

Which leads me to my next thought. What does this mean for… uh, us? I mean, is there even an us? Was this a one time thing? A weekend thing? Do we start seeing each other, do we casually sleep together, or pretend nothing ever happened and move on with our lives?

Could I even do that?

I bite down on my lower lip. I don't think I could pretend that never happened, but I also don't know if I could be in a relationship. Not yet, not right now.

I tip my head back and silently groan. You've put yourself in a real good situation here, dumbass, I chastise myself. Professional boundaries are long gone, all because I left my stupid binder behind last night. And like a damn gentlemen, Darien returned it to me. Helped me bring them to my room when I struggled to balance them. Looked so damn attractive in his jeans that a Calvin Klein model is below his league. And that shirt. How it hugged his muscles as my hands explored. So defined, so firm, so… so…

Shit.

There's no denying I wanted him. Bad. I'd be a liar if I said I didn't want him, still.

But, I'm not in college anymore. I'm a thirty four year old divorcee with kids.

Everything I do has a repercussion. Every choice I make, carefree or painstakingly picked apart, will somehow trickle into my life. And boy, oh boy, will this decision make an impact on my livelihood. I'd be an idiot to think it wouldn't.

But the question is: do I regret it?

"Hey."

Darien's voice, deep with sleep and oh-so-sexy, startles me to the point that I nearly fall off my chair. Thanks to the faint glow of the sun peeking through the sides of the curtains, I am gifted the sight of watching the comforter tumble to his waist as he sits.

"Hey," I answer softly, my train of thought interrupted. He digs the heel of his hand into his eyes as the silence hangs between us, and awkwardness washes over me. After all, I've never had a one night stand before, let alone someone wake up in my bed the next morning. What the hell are you supposed to say in a situation like this?

"Sorry, I, um, didn't mean to stay here all night."

That works. "No worries, it's okay," I dismiss with the realization that waking up to him isn't a bad thing. Although, with how awkward this whole morning after thing is, also can see the appeal of a nighttime exit.

He lets out a sigh, although I can't tell if it's contented or concerned. Part of me wants to decipher it and get his opinion on what happened between us. But, another part of me realizes it's only 5:50, and conversations don't happen at 5:50. At least, not conversations that heavy. A more appropriate conversation would be asking someone if they'd like –

"Coffee?"

At this point, I'm really wishing there was a light on. In the dim I can't see clearly enough what Darien may be thinking. Right now, the silence between us is filling my mind with every worst-case scenario. At least if I could see his face, I'd be able to see an element of some emotion. Surprise? Taken aback? Dread? Worry?

"Uh, yeah, sure," he hesitantly responds, and I can hear his uncertainly clear as day. Yup, he definitely wants to get the hell out of here. Regrets it already. Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

"Unless, you have to go now, then, uh, no worries," I rambled. I can't believe I screwed up already. He obviously wants to get the hell away from me as soon as he–

"No, no," Darien quickly replies, ceasing my internal berating. "Coffee would be nice," he adds in a softer voice, effectively calming my worry.

"Okay." Okay. This is good. Maybe… maybe he really wants to stay? I feel my cheeks burning something fierce as angst turns to elation; he wants to stay! He wants to stay! I hoist myself up and towards the direction of the lamp but immediately stub my toe on the leg of the desk.

"Ah, crap!" I wince in pain before falling over into the bed, my throbbing pinky-toe and gracious tumble now making this whole endeavor even more awkward. Way to have a klutz-attack, meatball brains! I lift my leg up and quickly grab the tender spot with a wince. I hear the rustle of bedsheets. The pounding in my foot subsides as the pounding in my chest increases tenfold at Darien's glide across the mattress.

"Are you okay?" And at this point I don't know if I want to laugh or cry. He hesitated at staying for fucking coffee, now I have to go and act all dumb-blonde on him? Ugh! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Yeah," I give a pathetic chuckle, "I just, um, stubbed my toe."

Darien lets out a whistle, and now I am ever more thankful the lights are off so he can't see my tomato-red face. "Ouch," he says softly. "Which leg?"

"My right," I sigh as I continue to knead the spot, my shoulders slumped in defeat. Figures this would happen to me. Just when I think that maybe, just may-

My thoughts cease, a shockwave ripples through my system the moment I feel his fingers brush against my foot. Gently, he cups it, and I allow my leg to be guided towards him. His fingers begins to gently massage my toes, each stroke sending both a calming, yet erotic feeling with each motion he provides. I drop my head to my knee, the heat in my cheeks rising from both contentment and embarrassment. After a few moments go by, I pick my head up and place my chin against my knee, leaning into my thigh. I feel my heart pound when he lets out another deep chuckle, accompanying a smile. "How's that feel?"

"Better," I murmur into my leg. "I'm such a klutz."

"No, you're not."

"Yeah, I am."

"Okay, yes you are," he ribs, and I favor him with an incredulous look. "I mean, you did run into me that one day, after all,"

"Hey, no I didn't! You ran in to me!"

"Nope."

"Yep! You were on your phone when you did it!"

"Was I?"

I poke him in the shoulder. "Yeah, you were," I confirm. "And you ripped my pants!"

Darien tips his head back and lets out a laugh so rich that I can't help but laugh along with him. The earlier tension seems to fade away, and suddenly we're in this little, rosy bubble. As our laughter subsides, so do his massaging fingers. Instead, they've found their way to the base of my ankle, his thumb stroking against my bare skin.

"What time is it?" he asks, his voice lower in tone, shooting straight through my core.

"Around 6," I respond, my eyes never leaving his. His fingers begin to travel up my leg tantalizingly slow, gliding against my skin. Every inch he moves up my leg I feel my breath quickening, my leg lowering in his direction. His fingers skim my calf, to my knee, traveling higher. I feel his weight shift against the mattress, and as he closes the already small gap between us, my hand skims his bicep and shoulder, raking my fingers at the nape of his neck as he places a tentative, soft kiss against my lips. One kiss turns to two, three before he pulls me into his lap, and I savor the feel of his lips against mine as his hands grip at my waist.

"If you want me to stop," he whispers against my mouth, "tell me now." When I don't respond, he places a chaste kiss on my neck. "Or now," he adds as his hands slip up the back of my shirt to graze the hollow of my back. Whimpering, I feel his lips press against my collarbone, exposed by the oversized t-shirt I threw on not too long ago. "Or—"

"Don't stop," I whisper. Head tipped back and eyes closed, I relish the sensation of his lips pressed against my neck, his fingers running against my curves, the awareness of how hard he's growing. The sheet is our only barrier, and the moment he lays me back on the bed, it is long forgotten.

#

"Not only will we look at our strategic plan, but I am going to challenge you to think of how you are living out this plan. What are you doing to remain inspired by our company's vision? How are you using our cornerstones in your work, or with your clients, or in your sales? Why do you continue to-"

My hand smothers a yawn as Ed Wilford continues his introductory rambling. Unfortunately, with the retirement of Damien, Ed stepped in as the keynote speaker. It's sensible, as he's the 'W' in 'W&S', but the man is a damned bore! It's not like what he is saying really contrasts with what Damien would have said, either. These retreats always serve the same purpose: discuss the history and the trends in the sector. Gather input from partners. Discuss how to attract a different client profile. Explore what improvements could be made. Yadda yadda yadda.

A facilitator from Chicago is usually flown in to help keep it structured, hot topics and healthy dialogue are often presented, but once you've been to one and you're not directly involved, they tend to get redundant. After all, what say do I have in trying to revise the firm's mission?

I quietly hunt for my steno notepad and pen inside my bag. A long list of to-do's immediately greet me, my eyes absorbing what feels like endless items I need to address throughout today's meeting. I scratch off a few tasks right away with a dash of my pen, finding a brief flicker of satisfaction that I've already handled a couple of items. Once Wilford decides to wrap up the introduction, the group will immediately move on to discussing how the firm performed this year. Again, nothing that is of too much interest to me, aside from the size of the deposit into the bonus pool.

I look up from the paper to the front of the room, desperately fighting the desire to spy on table four. To spot the sight of midnight black hair and reminisce in how soft it felt as I ran my fingers through it again. But for the sake of decorum, I force my eyes to stay trained on Ed.

"Also, we have a real treat for you," Ed announces to the group. "We have Ken Listenbee, a published author and top-notch life skills coach, coming in to work with us tomorrow. He will provide us with–"

Yawn.

I cross my legs at my ankles, a slight twinge between my thighs bringing me back to the events that unfolded this morning. I look down bashfully at my notepad as the highlight reel streams through my consciousness: the way that Darien's silhouette looked in the dim light of the sunrise peeking through the window, the way he touched me all over, how he responded when I reciprocated. It's crazy to think that six hours ago I assumed he would think this was all a mistake; instead, we've had a repeat of last night's events. I don't know what's happening between us, but whatever it is, it's more than just a two-time fling. However, that's a conversation for another day.

The applause of the group brings me out of my thoughts and I clear my throat quietly to regain my composure. I definitely should not be thinking of hot sex with Darien when he's sitting not ten feet away from me. Of course, just as I think of him, my eyes dart towards his table. At the round table set for eight, he's seated on the left side, allowing me a perfect side profile of his features. Welp, might as well check him out while I'm here. Must that man look so damn fine? Seriously, he has to get his clothing custom tailored. The way his charcoal dress pants rest on his hips and hug his butt? Not to mention the way that dress shirt clings to his muscles? I groan inwardly; this is going to be a long day.

Ed swaps spots with the CFO, Carl Guy, and he launched into the firm's financials. I pay attention for a moment, mainly making sure that his presentation loaded properly and that the clicker is operating correctly, before zoning back out. Now that I've gone and worked myself up by staring at Darien's delectable derriere during the applause, I can't focus on anything else. I rest my chin against my palm, eyes traveling along the room to survey the attention span of everyone else. Every so often I glance at the PowerPoint slides, but when Carl begins discussing budget allocation and chargeable hours, I turn to the room again.

I sweep my gaze to each of the tables, noting how they're all paying attention, until I reach table four. Darien's arm is propped on the table, his chin is resting against his fist. My eyes trace down his bicep, around his elbow, and up his forearm. I take note of the finest sprinkling of dark arm hair, finding allure in the sight of it. Blinking a few times to bring myself out of my stupor over such a small detail I continue my mapping, only to freeze when I catch his mischievous smile tipped my direction.

Girl, you busted.

I immediately snap my eyes down to my paper, ears pounding so loudly that I can't hear the presentation. Stupid, stupid, stupid! You had to go and look at him. Had to check him out. Of course, as I stare helplessly at my stupid to-do list, I can feel his eyes on me, taunting me to look up at him. Hesitantly, I flick my eyes back up in his general direction to confirm it. My lips press down into a tight-lipped smile, desperately trying to push down any and all desire to look back up again, and yet, I like that he's looking at me. I raise my eyes up once more toward him, allowing our gazes to lock with a smile. In return, he tosses me a wink before turning his attention back on the CFO, leaving me completely and totally flustered. Damn him!

Thankfully, I am brought out of my current state when the group applauds once more, signaling the end of Carl's presentation. I take a look at my watch, eyes wide; lunch already? How long was I spacing out for?! The sound of chairs scraping against the wooden floor fills the room along with the chatter of the Partners, various discussions of this and that going on.

I casually glance towards Darien's direction again and immediately notice that Anne has taken to walking alongside him toward lunch. Of course she's clothed in a khaki-colored pencil skirt and slim-fitted, white button-up top, dressed every bit polished and professional as she aims to be. Her auburn hair is pulled back into a tidy bun, her bangs falling around her forehead delicately. Ugh, must she be so damn attractive?! And, of course, she has her eyes set on the hottest guy around. I internally growl.

Back off, bitch.

The room continues to clear, everyone heading into the adjacent room to have lunch before we dive into the nitty-gritty of the meeting. Typically I forgo eating lunch with everyone and get my plate once they begin Session Two, but my curiosity is piqued. What harm would it do if I checked to see whether Anne was trying to sit next to Darien. I chuckle; not like it would matter. He's already informed me he can't stand her.

But, it wouldn't hurt to look… would it?

After hemming and hawing over it for a few minutes, I finally bite the bullet and head toward the lunch room. The clattering of silverware and conversation is prevalent, everyone laughing and gossiping away about the happenings in their lives. Honestly, I find it a nice reprieve from our tedious work days for all of us to get together under one roof and unwind like this. It's a different way of thinking; not torts or bylaws or case studies, but collaborating together. Working alongside each other towards a common, business-approached goal.

I walk up to the buffet table and pick up a china plate. As I dig the tongs into the salad, my eyes flutter up and out to the crowd. Just as I suspected, Anne is right next to Darien. Her body is tilted toward him, her head tipped back and laughing. I feel a minuscule swirl of irritation, but swallow it back down. I know she's nothing to him, just vying for his attention. But when her hand reaches up to touch his bicep, I find myself squeezing the tongs hard enough that spring mix suddenly flies into the air like confetti.

Get a grip, girl! Get your food and get the hell out of here before anyone notices you're causing a mess!

I shimmy on down the table, quickly scooping some vegetables sides on to my plate and high tail it from the line. Thankfully, I don't think anyone noticed.

"Throwing salad around, are we?"

Or not.

"Eh, not on purpose?" I stammer awkwardly. "The tongs got the best of me."

Darien chuckles beside me as I reach for my silverware. "Do you have the time to help me with something?" he asks, "Shouldn't take more than two or three minutes."

I nod my head in compliance. "Of course."

"Okay, perfect. Um, when you're done?" he suggests as motions towards my lunch.

I shake my head in dismissal. "It can wait. Let me put it down in the other room," I say as I make my exit, him following behind me. For a moment, I am amused at how quickly I changed back into my professional self. I also take in how he addressed me; would anyone be able to tell there was something between us? Truthfully, I think that sounded pretty normal. As we cross the hallway to the meeting room, he holds the door open for me, which allows me to quickly drop my plate off at the table.

"So, what's up?" I ask as I reach for my pen and pad.

"It's down by the podium," he replies as he ushers me toward the front of the room. I follow him immediately, recalling he has a presentation of his own later today. My eyes widen; did we not do something? Oh boy. All the handouts are printed out already. What if something needs to be changed? Or what if something isn't loading correctly? Worry begins to crease my brow once we reach the front of the room.

"Over here," he instructs as he leads me to the control panels on the side of the wall. I raise my eye in curiosity. I don't really know the AV well. Lunch is only about 15 minutes in; I'm sure I can get the AV guy down here once Darien explains what the problem might be.

"Um," I stammer, "I don't really know much abou–"

My voice catches in my throat the moment I feel him pulling me in. In an instant his is mouth crushed against mine, and I welcome the surprise as I rest my hands against his chest, taking in the feel of the exquisite fabric. His hands rake through my hair, and I let out a small groan of appreciation.

The moment is painfully brief. As we separate, I wipe my thumb across my bottom lip to remove any evidence he kissed me. The tingle, however, remains.

"Um, yeah, uh, glad I could help you with that," I sputter as I regain my composure.

Darien nods, and his playful smile is infectious. "Yeah, I definitely had to have that taken care of before the afternoon sessions."

"Ah, yes, for sure," I grin.

"I'll leave you to your lunch," he says as he touches the side of my arm. I nod, knowing he needs to get back, only to be knocked off kilter when he turns back around and gives one last dazzling, heartwarming kiss that sends rockets shooting off into the sky and fireworks exploding all around me. He winks as he makes his exit, and I can't help but smirk.

Eat your heart out, Anne.

#

"I love you, too, baby. Goodnight," I reply to Elsie with a smile as I disconnect the call.

The smile, however, quickly drops when my phone returns to my lock screen, the clock mocking me. 10:30 at night and I'm still crunching away at here in the meeting room. It would figure that the facilitator would bring his Macbook. And, it would also figure, that he did not bring his Mac-to-Windows adapter. And of course, his presentation would NOT configure with my computer.

It's 2019! Isn't everything supposed to be, you know, seamless nowadays? Interchangeable, even?

I run my fingers through my bangs in frustration. I managed to get the presentation transferred over into PowerPoint 365, but of course there were glitches. Four hours later, there were still freaking glitches. Honestly, who needs that many transitions and animations in their slide deck? Yeah, the word "procrastinate" might have a bomb land on it and explode the word, but if you want to use that stupid animation PLEASE remember to bring your damn adapter!

I rub at my tired eyes, desperately wishing I could retreat to my bed and hide under the covers. I've determined that I have to be awake by 6:00 tomorrow to set up the tables and pass out the packages. But it's already almost 11 pm. With this stupid conversion fail monopolizing the evening my patience is thin. And, if this transfer isn't done correctly, it's going to come back on me. After all, I didn't think to bring an adapter, either. Had I been, you know, one step ahead of the game, none of this would freaking matter. Add in the fact that this guy is charging us five grand to be here, it needs to be right. It needs to be.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. Nothing is going to get done if I sit here and stew over it, I lament. I take in a deep, calming breath, followed by a slow exhale. Before I open my eyes, however, I hear a clanking noise on my desk. I open my eyes to reveal a short glass of amber liquid, and I don't think I've ever been so grateful for hard liquor in my life.

"You look like you could use this."

I nod my head enthusiastically as I let out a sequence of stressed out breaths, almost like a silent snicker. "You have no idea," I intone, reaching for the glass eagerly. The liquor touches my lips, sweet apple and caramel notes filling my nostrils, as I take a sip of the quality whiskey. "Oh, ohhhh," I moan into the glass as I savor the drink. "This is good."

Darien occupies the empty seat next to me, a grin splashed across his face. "Tullamore," he replies. "Irish whiskey."

"Mmmm," I hum with appreciation, allowing a second taste of the drink. "Thank you," I add, tossing Darien a smile. "Very sweet of you."

"Anytime," he adds. "So, what's keeping you in here all evening?" he inquires as he looks at the two laptops. I respond with a dejected sigh.

"The facilitator for tomorrow's meetings created all of his material on his Mac. Which would be fine, except that he didn't bring his adapter. So, I've been trying to transfer all of his work onto our laptop, but it's not going as smoothly as I had hoped," I explain.

"We don't have an adapter?" he inquires.

I shake my head. "No, unfortunately. Now I know for next year," I add, blowing a frustrated breath into my bangs. I'll never not bring one ever again.

Darien purses his lips in thought. "How much do you have left to do?"

"Thankfully, not much more. Really all that's left is adding in the last of his animations and slide transitions to his slide deck. I've been going slide by slide on each computer to compare and contrast the animations and make sure they're correct."

Darien winces. "That sounds terrible."

I laugh wryly. "It really is. I probably have another hour left and then I should be good."

"Here," Darien says as he reaches for the keys on the Mac. "You work ours, I'll work his."

My eyes widen as I shake my head. "No, no; you don't have to help, you go enjoy yourself out there," I insist, surprised and touched that he offered to help me.

"Please, I insist," Darien urges. When I don't respond, he flashes me an encouraging smile. "Trust me, there's nowhere else I'd rather be right now."

I feel my cheeks tint as I return a bashful smile. This man, this beautiful, wonderful man! My goodness! I sing inwardly. Yet, as much as I would like to continue to grin goofily at him, I know that if I don't keep working, I'll never get out of here. Although, being in here with him all night might not be so bad.

I really need to cease my sex-occupied thoughts. Now.

"So," I finally sputter, "I'm on slide 40."

"40?" Darien confirms. I nod. "Geez, how long is this thing?"

"62 slides."

"Ugh," he groans. "Long day tomorrow," he laments as he keys through the slides. "Ok, I'm here. Now what?"

"Ok, press this button," I instruct him as I lean towards him, taking a split-second to inhale that delicious scent of his that I've become accustomed to. And just like that, I'm thinking about how fucking good he smelled this morning, my head buried in the crook of his neck, my arm draped around him while my other gripped the sheets so tightly they popped off the mattress.

Down, girl.

"Here," I finally squeak out. He complies, and the slide fills the screen, animations and all.

"What the fuck?" he mutters as words suddenly twist and turn onto the screen, his eyes narrowed with one eyebrow raised. The look of distain on his face is too much, and I lose it.

"Yup!" I say between giggles. "Ridiculous, right?"

"This is insane!"

"Yup!"

"Like, a high school kid could do better than this!"

"Yup!" I repeat, still laughing helplessly.

"Geez, no wonder you've been in here all night! Is that… did that just, did the next screen come on in the shape of a star?"

"Wait, what?" I stop laughing and scoot in closer to him. He hits the back button, and sure enough, the current screen disappears and the next screen tumbles on, star shaped and everything.

My jaw drops, and for a moment we're just staring at the screen in disbelief. The next, we're both laughing loudly, shaking our heads and relentlessly mocking the hot mess slide effects that everyone is going to have to take seriously tomorrow morning.

Sure, it took two hours longer than I thought. Darien retrieved us one more round of drinks, and despite the laughter and poking fun at the presentation, we completed the transfer. We even managed a few trial runs to make sure the animations ran correctly, and when all projected onto the big screen in the front of the room without issue, Darien and I high freakin' fived.

"Thank you. Seriously, you saved me hours of work," I enthused, laying my cheek against a propped up fist. He returns the gratitude with one of his dazzling, earth-shattering smiles.

"Anytime," he responds. "Glad I could be of some help."

I nod my head lazily. "You were."

"Good."

"Mmhmm."

A comfortable silence settles between us. I study his face, locked in his deep eyes framed with heavy lashes. I took note of his once styled black strands, now flopping over his face as the evening marched on. I trace his blade nose and strong cheekbones, down to his jaw and up to his lips. He was perfect, by every definition of the word; handsome, charming, sensitive, hardworking. As much as I want to reach out and touch him, to run my fingertips over his jawline and press my mouth against his, I know that I shouldn't.

After all, anyone really could walk in if they wanted to.

"I should probably go to bed," I finally say, but my voice is strained. I don't really want to go to bed. At least, not to sleep.

"Yeah, we've got a long day tomorrow, don't we?" he agrees, even though he's unmoving. I nod slowly and shift my weight up out of the chair and on to my feet, saddened somehow that this time spent together is ending, even though it was work that kept us here. My sadness only intensifies as he follows suit, the two of us taking a slow walk to the back of the meeting room and toward the exit. I peek up as discretely as I can to marvel in his generous height, how he carries himself. Those shoulders, shoulders I've run my fingers against, are so broad, and those muscles, those impressive muscles, fill the sleeves of the sky blue fabric to the point that it almost appears painted on.

Once we reach the door, I grip the metal handle and begin to push it down, only to stop the moment I feel his hands land on my hips. I tip my head back slightly as I feel him take one step closer to me. His warm breath tickles my ear, eliciting a shiver that courses through my body. I drop my arm to the side, allowing the handle to spring free, and he whirls me around, my back pressing against the doorway as he kisses me. My hands immediately fly up to his face, fingertips tracing his contours of his face. I continue my trail and weave a path into his hair while I simultaneously press in closer to him, as if I need him closer. Like he is my air supply.

A passing cluster of voices behind the doorway eventually separates us, but does nothing to calm the burning desire I have for him. I struggle to catch my breath as I stare at him, watching as he runs his fingers through his bangs in his own attempt to calm himself down.

"I, uh," he pants, "probably shouldn't do that again. In here," he quickly adds. I let out a breathless chuckle.

"Yeah, uh, probably," I agree. "In fact, I should probably get up to bed."

Darien places his hands in his pants pockets as nods his head in agreement. "Yeah, I should get some sleep, too."

Decision affirmed, I pull at the door handle and yank the door open, leading us to a nearly empty lobby. Two employees behind the front desk are typing away at their computers, but I see no one from our firm in sight. Either they've all retreated to their rooms, or they're still at the bar. My bet is on the latter.

We make our way to the elevator in silence, pressing our own floors once we step inside. A comfortable, mutual silence lingers between us, drastically different from how I felt this morning. We smile at one another as the elevator comes to a stop, the bell dinging once it reaches my floor. However, before the door springs open, he leans in from behind.

"Dream of me," he says in a low, husky voice, and I feel my core reignite once more. I gasp, both in surprise and arousal, before turning my head to return a coy look as I step out into the hallway.

"I will," I respond, my insides turning to goo as I watch him fold his arms together while wearing a seductive smile. In a moment of boldness, as the doors begin to slide close, I toss him a wink for good measure, and am rewarded by the gleam of his teeth as his smile widens.

I turn away from the elevator and shake my head, completely mindblown by the events that have occurred in the last 24 hours. I've had sex. I've had sex with Darien. Twice. I caught him looking at me. He caught me looking at him. He flirted with me at lunch. Helped me out when I was stuck working late. Kissed me breathless in the conference room. So much in such a short amount of time that I feel like I'm on a rollercoaster, my adrenaline pumping nonstop, my heart beating rapidly.

When I reach my room, I tap the keycard against the door and let myself in, slightly bummed when I hear the door close with a soft 'click' and I'm alone. But it doesn't last. Even though went our separate ways to get some sleep tonight, somehow, someway, I feel even closer to him.

And despite crawling into bed by myself, completely and utterly exhausted, I don't feel so alone.

In fact, I feel like I am laying on cloud nine.