I turn and look at his face again. The dark hair, the stubble a little longer than yesterday night, the fringe of eyelashes, the strong jaw. He's definitely beautiful, and also definitely trouble. I need to get out of here.
Carefully extricating myself from under his arm, so as not to awaken him, I slide out of the bed. Luckily its one of those mattresses that feels like a soft pillow wherever you lay, and I don't bounce him awake. I try a door, and it's a huge walk-in closet. Oh yeah, forgot he's rich. The next door leads into a sumptuous marble bathroom, all black stone and mirrors—in which I can see my shame all too clearly.
It's that moment that I realize I’m supposed to be at work for my first day. My phone must be in my pocket or purse, and I have no idea what time it is. Oh Lord, Odell, what have you done? You're always such a good girl! I splash soap and water over my face to rid myself of the raccoon eyes that are the remains of last night's makeup, and dry on the plushest, softest towel I've ever felt. The way my head feels I want to curl up in this towel and try to die, but I can't. Gotta get home stat. I hope it's early enough I can just rush out and grab a taxi. It's time to get out of here.
Slipping out the door as quietly as I can, I see that lover boy is still sleeping. Perfect. I slide my jeans on, grab my purse and tiptoe as soundlessly as I can out of the nicest apartment I've ever been in. So strange when he's so rough and ready. Who is this guy?