I couldn't even lie about not enjoying that night. The way his hands were as delicate as the wind… while he caressed me and made me feel loved and treasured in ways I could never anticipate; I do not know what to do anymore.
The memory of his touch lingered on my skin, a phantom sensation that both comforted and terrified me. His fingers had traced patterns of tenderness, each stroke full of intimacy that I had never known before.
I felt cherished in those moments, his gentle touch deliberately defying the harsh reality I often faced at work. It was as if the barriers between us had melted away, leaving only raw, unfiltered emotion in their wake.
But now, as I lay next to him, the early morning light filtering through the curtains, fear gripped my heart.
Waking up beside him, seeing Nathaniel's peaceful, sleeping form so close to mine… How could I possibly predict what was about to unfold?
My mind raced with questions, each one more urgent than the last. What would this mean for us? For my job? I wished desperately for a glimpse into the future, something to calm the burden of anxiety raging within me.
I slowly brushed the strands of hair away from his closed eyes, my hand trembling. This was the first time I had been this close to him, so close that his presence seemed to fill the air, making it difficult to breathe.
My heart pounded in my chest, each beat making me see the amount of stupidity in this precarious situation I found myself in.
His eyes gently open, and for a moment, our gazes locked. The intensity in his eyes sent a jolt of panic through me.
My heart plummeted as the full weight of our actions crashed down on me.
What had I done? How could I be in the same bed as my boss? The absurdity of the situation hit me like a bullet, leaving me reeling.
I shifted, intending to slip out of bed and put some distance between us, but Nathaniel's arm tightened around me, pulling me into a firm embrace.
My body went rigid with shock, every nerve ending tingling with an electric charge. His hand rested on my stomach, his warmth seeping through every inch of my body, and I could feel the unmistakable presence of his manhood pressed against my back.
Our skin touching sent multiple volts of energy coursing through my veins, igniting a fire that excited and terrified me.
My breath caught in my throat as his left hand moved over my chest, his fingers gently massaging me. A shiver ran down my spine, making me feel pleasure and fear.
"Good morning…" Nathaniel's voice was a low, sweet murmur, like honey dripping from his lips. The sound of it made my heart race even faster, a symphony of emotions playing in my chest.
It seemed he had been awake the whole time, aware of my every move.
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my racing thoughts. "Good morning," I whispered back, my voice barely audible.
His arms tightened around me, his body a solid, comforting presence against mine. "Don't be afraid," he said softly, his breath warm against my ear. "Last night… it wasn't a mistake."
I wanted to believe him, wanted to trust in the sincerity of his words. But doubt has eaten me up, warning me of the potential consequences. "Nathaniel," I began, my voice trembling, "what happens now? What does this mean for us?"
My face felt like it was heating up by itself. I bit my lip, trying to stifle the moans that threatened to escape, drowning in the sensation his hands were giving me.
The conflict within me was almost unbearable; every touch was a cruel reminder of the line we had crossed, a line that should never have been breached.
"Five minutes," Nathaniel said, his voice frustratingly calm. It was as though he was deliberately avoiding my questions, responding with phrases that had no connection to my desperate inquiries.
I felt a surge of irritation mingled with my confusion and shame. He was skirting the issue, and it only added to my growing anxiety.
I am not that low of a woman… I have no plans of letting him know that I indeed had fun during the night we spent familiarizing ourselves with each other's bodies.
I thought I would not regret anything once I woke up… but right now, I feel like I have made the most foolish decision from which there is no escape. There is no door through which I could easily dash, and there is no way to undo what has been done.
"Sir?" I tried to speak, my voice trembling. He continued touching me, and my body betrayed me, responding to his caresses despite my internal turmoil.
"You have to get up now… it's past eleven and you're not the kind of person to be late." I tried my best not to stutter, focusing on maintaining my professionalism.
I completely disregarded what I felt because, to me, it seemed like he had no intention of addressing my concerns about our future, about what we had become overnight.
Because for all I knew, in this kind of position, I was not just a private assistant or a secretary. The fact that he bedded me… how else was I supposed to think that he didn't do this with some ulterior motive?
We were not drunk or anything. Everything that happened was according to my own will. I was the reason why we spent the night together.
Nathaniel's grip softened, and I seized the opportunity to pull away from his embrace. I immediately wrapped myself in the blanket, not daring to look back, and began picking up my scattered clothes. Each piece of fabric felt like a shard of glass, being the symbol of my indiscretion.
I could hear Nathaniel rising from the bed, his gaze fixed on me. The intensity of his stare sent shivers down my spine, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Goosebumps erupted across my skin as I hurriedly dressed, my hands shaking.
Every movement felt like a struggle, each breath a battle to maintain composure. The room seemed to close in on me, the walls pressing down with the consequences of my choices.
I dressed quickly, my mind filled with thoughts of what lay ahead. How would I face him in the office? How could I ever look him in the eye again?
"Are you not hurt anywhere?" Nathaniel's voice broke through the fog of my thoughts, a clear, insistent sound that rang in my ears as I struggled to process his question.
I was hurting everywhere. A deep, throbbing pain pulsed from below, and something stung inside with every movement. My entire body ached, my head felt like it was about to explode, and I was acutely aware of the bruises and hickeys scattered across my skin.
Each mark, each love bite on my shoulders, was the only remains of the previous night's intensity. They hurt more than I cared to admit.
"No," I lied, my voice barely steady. "I am fine, sir."
"Why are you suddenly calling me with such formality?" he asked with genuine curiosity and a hint of confusion in his voice.
"Of course, I would call you that," I whispered, my throat tight. "You are my employer; I cannot just call you by your first name."
I heard the sound of his feet hitting the floor, the bed creaking just as it had when we were caught in the throes of passion.
The memory flooded back, the pleasure and regret that twisted my stomach. We had been so lost in each other, and now, in the harsh light of morning, I couldn't help but hate myself for it.
It aggravated me, I had lost my sanity, the idea that I had submitted so completely to someone. Why had I agreed to this? Why had I given myself to him? My only solace was the small comfort that I was apologizing for now because I knew I was in the wrong.
Nathaniel had shown signs that endeared him to me—buying me clothes, offering to sleep on the couch because I had booked the wrong rooms, and accepting flowers despite his allergies. I had confused basic human decency with affection, and now I had to redeem myself.
As I continued dressing, I suddenly noticed two feet in front of me. I gulped hard, unable to bring myself to lift my head and face him.
Nathaniel sighed before speaking, "But you did not call me 'sir' or 'boss' when you were moaning my name last night."
My cheeks immediately burned with embarrassment. His words felt like daggers, each one stabbing at my pride, making me wish I could take back everything I had said and done.
"Can't you remember?" he continued; his voice soft but insistent. "You were doing things I did not know you could do."
A wave of humiliation is killing me, intensifying the heat in my face. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the vivid memories of the night before.
"Nathaniel," I said, my voice trembling. "What happened last night… it can't happen again. We can't afford to let it affect our professional relationship."
He was silent for a moment, and I dared to look up. His expression was a mixture of hurt and understanding, a reflection of the conflict I felt inside.
"I understand," he finally said, his voice soft. "But you can't deny that there was something real between us last night. It wasn't just a fling."
I bit my lip, struggling to find the right words. "It might have felt real, but it complicates everything. We have to draw a line, Nathaniel."
"A line?" He was shocked.
"How can we draw a line when you, yourself, know how much you want me?"