What did the CEO do?

Chapter Six - Sunday

Sunday morning was surprisingly peaceful.

I woke up without a headache, which was already a significant improvement over most of my weekends, and for a few blissful seconds I had absolutely no idea what day it was or what had happened the night before.

Then I remembered — Solomon, the bathroom, the kiss, the hickey.

I pulled the blanket over my face.

“Oh, God.”

At least I had gotten home early enough that I hadn't drunk enough to wake up feeling like death. Unfortunately, being sober meant I remembered everything perfectly, including the way he'd looked at me before leaving.

I spent most of the morning trying not to think about him. It didn't work.

By noon, I had given up pretending otherwise. I was sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch when someone knocked on my door.

I wasn't expecting anyone. Again.

I got up, walked to the door, and opened it. Solomon stood on the other side.

I stared at him. He stared back.

“Hi.”

“Hi?” I blinked.

“You sound surprised.” He smiled slightly.

“I am surprised.”

“Why?”

“Because it's Sunday.”

“I know.”

“And you're here.”

“I know that too.”

I looked at him for another second.

“You're very annoying.”

“So I've been told.”

I stepped aside, letting him in. He walked into my apartment like he had every right to be there, and considering what had happened over the last two days, I wasn't entirely sure he didn't.

We talked for a while. Nothing particularly important at first. He asked what I'd been doing that morning. I told him I'd been trying to recover from having a very complicated weekend. He asked if the birthday had been fun. I looked at him.

“You know it was.”

“Good.”

“And you?”

“I had dinner.”

“With yourself?”

“Yes.”

“You followed me into the bathroom.”

“I remember.”

“You left me with a hickey.”

“I remember that too.” I touched my neck automatically, making him laugh quietly. “You're enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe.”

“You're impossible.”

“And yet you let me in.”

That shut me up. For a moment, neither of us said anything.

Then Solomon stepped closer. The teasing disappeared from his expression. He reached up, touched my face gently, and kissed me.

Unlike the kisses from the previous two days, this one wasn't sudden or demanding. It was slow, warm, almost careful, as though he was giving me every opportunity to pull away.

I didn't. I kissed him back.

One kiss became another, and before long we were moving through the apartment without either of us paying much attention to where we were going.

We ended up in my bedroom. Solomon stopped for a moment, looking down at me. There was a question in his eyes. I answered it by pulling him closer.

After that, everything else seemed to disappear.

The worries about Monday.

The fact that he was my boss.

The questions I knew I'd eventually have to ask.

All of it could wait.

For once, I didn't want to analyze anything. I just wanted him.

Several hours later, I lay exhausted beneath the sheets, staring blankly at the ceiling. I was pretty sure every muscle in my body had filed a formal complaint. Solomon was beside me, looking considerably less destroyed than I felt. I turned my head toward him.

“You're enjoying this.”

“Very much.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

Unfortunately, he was right and I sighed.

There were several moments of comfortable silence before Solomon noticed the discomfort in my expression.

“You okay?”

“Just sore.”

His expression immediately softened. He got out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom before returning a moment later.

“Come here.”

“I can walk.”

“I didn't ask whether you could.”

Before I could argue, he carefully picked me up. I stared at him.

“You know, this is humiliating.”

“You're allowed to be embarrassed.”

“Thank you.”

“But I'm still carrying you.”

He took me into the bathroom and helped me get cleaned up, moving with a gentleness that was almost ridiculous considering the man had spent the previous few hours completely overwhelming me.

When we were done, he brought me back to bed, pulled the blankets over me, and climbed in beside me. I rested my head against his chest.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

Then I said quietly, “What are we doing?”

Solomon looked down at me.

“I don't know.”

“That is possibly the least reassuring answer you could've given me.”

“I didn't say it was a bad thing.”

“You're my boss.”

“I know.”

“You're also the guy I met drunk before my interview.”

“I remember.”

“And now you're in my bed.”

“I noticed.”

“You're incredibly calm about all of this.” I laughed despite myself.

“I'm not calm.”

“You're not?”

“No.”

There was something different in his voice this time. Something honest. I studied him for a moment, but he didn't elaborate. Instead, he brushed a strand of hair away from my forehead.

“Do you regret it?”

I thought about the question for a moment, then I shook my head.

“No.”

“Good.”

I settled against him again.

We talked for hours after that, about stupid things and serious things, about work, food, childhood memories, places we'd been, places we'd never visited, and all the little details that somehow seemed easier to share when we weren't standing on opposite sides of a desk. At some point, I realized it had gotten dark outside.

“You're staying?”

“If you want me to.”

I hesitated for half a second and I moved closer.

“I want you to.”

“Okay.” He said and his arms tightened around me.

And for the first time since all of this had started, I fell asleep beside Solomon without wondering what would happen next.

Monday could deal with itself.

For tonight, I had him.

And that was enough.