Page 37 of Game Night: Truth or Dare

We walked up a flight of stairs, and I would have fallen right on my face had my boss not had a tight grip on my arm.

I swore I was getting drunker by the moment, and I wasn’t even drinking anymore.

“Keys,” he said when we stopped in front of my door.

I dug into the pocket of my pants and pulled out my keys before dropping them.

“Mr. McCoy…” His breathy sigh was exasperated.

“I’m so s-sorry.”

He bent over to pick them up and opened my door. I sure hoped my place was picked up and that I hadn’t left dirty underwear on the floor of my bedroom. Embarrassing!

Mr. Harrington took in the small space as he led me back toward the only bedroom. “Sit,” he ordered.

I sat on the edge of my bed, watching my boss dig through my drawers, pulling out a T-shirt and pajama bottoms as if he knew where everything was.

God, he was so cute taking care of me. Sexy, too. I should’ve been more embarrassed, but I was too drunk to care. My hot boss was making sure I was alright.

He tossed the clothes at me. “Get changed.”

Mr. Harrington walked out and came back a few moments later with a large glass of water, stopping in his tracks and eyeing me up and down.

“You’re only in your underwear, Mr. McCoy.”

“I don’t like to wear clothes to bed.”

His eyes turned dark, and he growled again. I closed my eyes to the sound, willing my dick not to get hard. Fortunately, it was too drunk right now to do much of anything.

I grabbed the water that he thrust at me. “Drink it all,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” I whispered and chugged the entire glass as Mr. Harrington stood there with fisted hands and frowning as if he was trying desperately not to stare at my body. Well, I could’ve been projecting.

He took the empty glass from me and set it on my dresser with his aqua eyes, never leaving mine. God, he had gorgeous eyes. I never got tired of looking at them. Whenever we had a meeting, I would watch his face as he spoke every word just to fall into those eyes that were like jumping into the warm, calm Caribbean waters.

“Do you feel like you’re going to be sick?”

I shook my head.

“Get in bed, then, Mr. McCoy.”

Why did him saying my last name do weird things to me? I never cared before, but now it had a different connotation to it, like it was sprinkled with hints of something sexual.

Again, you’re projecting, dumbass.

I climbed into my bed and got under the covers. When I pulled the blanket up to my neck, Mr. Harrington visibly relaxed. “You good?”

I nodded.

He grabbed my glass without another word and left my room but returned shortly with more water and a couple of Advil, which he placed on my nightstand. “For the morning. You’re going to be hurting.”

Fuck, I’m crushing hard. What a good boss.

He sighed loudly and narrowed his eyes. “You’re speaking your thoughts again.”

My eyes widened as I slapped my hand to my mouth. “Sorry,” I mumbled through my fingers.

“Roll over onto your stomach and go to sleep.” My boss turned off the lights in my room. “I’ll see you first thing Monday morning. Good night, Mr. McCoy.”

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