Page 41 of Falling for the Bosshole

Epilogue

Even before Killian Churchcould fully disengage from the clutches of deep slumber, she knew she was in deep shit. She wanted to succumb to the fingers of bliss that were pulling her back to oblivion so she could absolve herself and not have to face the truth that she just broke her own rule.

Her conscience was screaming inside her head — she had no other choice except to open her eyes in mute surrender. She turned her head to that side of the bed where her indiscretion should have been and gasped. It was empty. But the imprint of a head was still visible in the crumpled pillow beside hers.

Killian couldn’t believe her luck. He was gone. Jean-Paul was not in bed beside her or anywhere else inside her bedroom.

“Thank you,” she murmured in a stage whisper to no one in particular.

Fate had just thrown her some slack, it seemed. Bringing a man home with her and spending the night was a huge no-no. It was either the man’s place so she could leave quietly before morning came or a motel room. She had no qualms about splitting the bill either. Both options allowed her to leave anytime she wanted, no drama, no false hopes or promises, just a silent exit from whoever she shared the night with.

She didn’t need another Brad who she took home to her apartment. She’d woken up to find him gone… together with the rent money. Or John, who she met at the gym. After a few dates, she decided to bring him back to her apartment and introduced him to Lizzie, her roommate. They ordered pizza and drank beer. She fell asleep with John beside her. A few hours later she woke up to pee. Hearing strange noises from the living room, she went outside and found him fucking her roommate.

The past only proved it could be painful, so she’d made that vow never to bring anyone home to her apartment. And she had been true to her vow…except for last night. She had only the Shiraz to blame. She did not realize there were boxes of the Australian wine ready to fill every glass.

Linda Evan’s farewell party was wilder than Killian expected. They were both nurses at the ICU of the Maxwell Saint Senior Memorial Hospital. Linda was migrating to Australia with her new husband and the nurses on the floor decided to give her a going away party. As the night wore on, nurses from ER as well as other departments kept showing up. Wine bottles were emptied as soon as they appeared, the music blasted, and the nurses grew rowdier with every passing bottle of Shiraz.

Killian caught sight of a lanky sunburned man with shredded arms. It was obvious he took pride in his body from the way he carried himself. Their eyes met and the man made a beeline to where Killian sat by the bar. He said his name was Jean-Paul and he spoke English with a delicious French accent.

Killian had no expectations about hogging his attention the whole night. She never really did with most men. She expected him to move on to the next pretty face he saw at the party.

Surprisingly, Jean-Paul stayed beside her all through the night. He told her stories from when he was a young boy in the small town of Bayeux in Normandy, France. He was attentive and attractive. Because he spent the entire night by her side, and they consumed three bottles of wine between them, he no longer seemed like some random stranger she’d just met that night.

Their bodies automatically moved closer as the night wore on. Killian laughed throatily at a funny joke Jean-Paul shared, brushing against him and lightly touching his arm as she did. Sometimes their heads were so close together there was hardly any personal space to claim. The heady effect of alcohol plus the physical intimacy between them only hinted the obvious conclusion.

Killian was old enough to know the proprieties practiced in these parties. Those married, with husbands and children waiting at home, left early. The singles were left behind to party even harder. If you weren’t interested in a hook up, a girl stayed within the comfortable confines of friends… or coupled up with whoever took their fancy. Through her alcohol-infused brain, Killian remembered Jean-Paul mention that he was staying with friends of his mom as he trained to become an EMT. That meant they couldn’t possibly spend the night in his place.

There was probably a motel somewhere near, but by this time, Jean-Paul’s fingers were inside her skirt and inching their way slowly up her thigh. Her apartment was only half a block away and she doubted her lust would allow her to go in search of a motel room somewhere in the city. She could end up fucking him on the sidewalk if they waited that long. So they headed in the direction of her apartment.

The door barely closed behind them and they were tearing away at each other’s clothes. They made it to the bedroom, bumping into furniture along the way. The crash of a falling chair hardly registered in Killian’s brain. She was totally naked before her ass hit the mattress of her bed. The last thing Killian remembered was feeling totally exhausted after a huge orgasm hit. She waited till Jean-Paul got off her before she turned on her side and succumbed to an exhausted sleep.

It had all seemed so right at the time.

Now, Killian stepped out of bed, shrugging off the blanket that covered her naked body. She glanced at the clock on the table and saw she had a few hours to spare before she was needed at the hospital. The thought of a long and lingering shower felt very inviting. She stretched her arms over her head and purred like a cat. Killian was one of those women who found it difficult to feel good, bad or neutral about any man, especially after having sex.

She seldom broke her own rule about never bringing a man home. It spared her from having to deal with inane chitchat or fake promises of wanting to see each other again. Still in awe of her luck that she didn’t have to go through the motions of a morning-after-sex routine with Jean-Paul, Killian headed for the bathroom outside her bedroom.

Killian jerked in surprise as he came into view and seemed headed back to her bedroom. She scrambled for anything to cover her nakedness, which in hindsight was rather lame because he had seen every part of her body the previous night.

“Jean-Paul,” Killian shrieked, “I-I thought you left already.”

The man smiled broadly and encircled her with his arms. “Surely you didn’t expect me to just leave without saying goodbye, ma cherie?” Jean-Paul replied.

Yes, yes that is exactly what I expected, Killian replied silently in her mind. She gave an uncertain smile as she wriggled out of his embrace.

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” She hoped he wouldn’t hear the desperation in her voice.

“My class is at 1 pm,” Jean-Paul replied, trying to grab hold of her once again. Killian sidestepped in search of a towel. Being naked wasn’t helping her situation. She could see the desire in his face and the bulge of his cock outlined the front of his trousers. The sight only panicked her somehow.

She was back to being 10 years old again and playing outside in the porch when a stranger approached her. He opened his zipper and fondled his penis before taking it out of his pants. Killian couldn’t take her eyes off it. She was fascinated and at the same time turned off by the sight. Since then, she’d had a love-hate relationship with that part of a man’s body.

The question did flash through her mind why she had been crazy about it last night, but she didn’t feel the same way in the light of day. She shrugged it off because she knew exactly what. But now wasn’t the best time to delve into her lack of EQ when her IQ was taking a beating.

Ensconced in the safety of a robe, Killian summoned her wits about her. She smiled casually and ushered him innocently toward the door, thanking her lucky stars he already had his clothes on.

“I had a great time last night but I need to be at the hospital in 30 minutes,” she lied.

“But I remember clearly you said you had till noon to stay in bed. You were even happy to know that my class would be around the same time too,” Jean-Paul protested.