Page 10 of His Curvy Obsession

“No? You changed my clothesforme?” I ask weakly.

“You’d rather I let you sleep in a soiled dress?”

I fold my arms over my chest, conscious that without a bra my nipples must be clearly showing through the thin white shirt.

“Nothing sexual happened between you and me last night,” Eric continues. “I brought you home. I took care of you overnight. That’s it.”

Took care of me overnight.

I look at his face and see the shadows beneath his eyes.

“Did you sleep?”

“Very little.”

“And you slept…beside me?” I ask in a small voice. “In the bed?”

He shakes his head and points a finger at the wooden straight-backed chair next to the bed.

“You slept inthat?”I ask, blinking at it.

“Like I said, very little,” he answers grimly. “I wanted to be alert in case you got sick again.”

I can’t look at him anymore. The shame of getting so drunk last night, of my boss witnessing me in a state like that, throwing up on myself…and then him changing my clothes and babysitting me all night long…

It's too much humiliation to bear.

“You didn’t need to do all of that,” I whisper.

“I don’t think you understand the seriousness of what happened last night,” Eric growls.

I sigh and look at him.

“Idounderstand,” I say. “And I’m very sorry. It won’t happen again, you have my word. I don’t know what came over me…normally I’m fine after two or three glasses of wine…”

Eric tilts his head.

“You don’t remember much about last night, do you?”

“I guess not, if I had to ask you whether we slept together,” I sigh.

Eric walks to the wooden chair, taking a seat and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, interlacing his fingers and bowing his head.

It’s a pose I’m very familiar with, having worked with the man for over seven years. It’s the pose that Eric strikes when he’s stuck on a difficult problem, deep in thought, and likely frustrated.

Over time, I’ve learned that it’s wise not to interrupt Eric when he’s in this mode, to leave him alone and wait for him to speak again—even if this takes hours.

So instead of speaking, I just watch him, gazing at the wide expanse of his muscular shoulders, his rounded biceps…and the raised veins that wind from his thick forearms all the way to the backs of his large hands.

Eric has nice hands. How have I never noticed this before?

Finally he looks up at me.

“Why are you taking fertility medication?” he asks.

I blink at him.

“Excuse me?”

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