I was drunk and his hand felt nice in mine. I knew that. But I also knew that I shouldn't be doing this again. The first time I had been ignorant to the things that would come. I had no idea that it would risk my job. I could not use that excuse this time. Once more I was leaving a bar with alcohol heavy in my system and Miles by my side. But this time I knew I was climbing into my boss's car.

Still that little voice in my head wasn't enough to stop me from moving forward when Miles opened the passenger door on a bright red coupe and waited for me patiently. The hand that touched my back so gently when I moved to seat myself was enough to make me shiver. I knew I couldn't have it again, but I wanted him so bad.

While the other men in this club had made me feel uneasy and disgusted he had made me feel unbridled and exceptional. I wanted that more than ever now.

As I clicked my seat belt into place I took note that this was not the same car that I had ridden in before. For one it had almost no back seat as it was a two door and the sharp colour was a contrast to the silver one from before. There was also no driver to cart the two of us around. Still, this car was just as luxurious with its smooth seats and high quality sound system.

"How many cars do you own?" I asked, almost sounding exasperated when Miles climbed into the driver's side. The words were out of my drunken mouth before I could even consider whether the question was inappropriate or not. I wasn't an expert but I assumed that asking my boss about his cars- often seen as status symbols- may be a little too bold.

"A few." He answered, but his eyes were on his mirrors. A second later his hand grabbed the shifter, his blinker was on, and the engine roared as he sped into the busy street. Once he was in the flow of traffic he drove with a smoothness that I appreciated.

"Stick," I mused, "it's a dying art, you know."

"Maybe, but it's more fun."

The conversation died there. I didn't have the ability to keep it up and my mind was already distracted by all of the lights floating by the car window. For a brief moment I could only think about how beautiful Anaheim was at night.

Unfortunately, Miles was not done with me.

"Did you leave anyone behind at the bar?" I just stared at him blankly, "Do I need to go back and pick up a friend. I don't want someone calling the cops because you left unexpectedly and the rule is that you never leave a friend alone at a bar, right?"

"I went alone," I said, hoping to ease his mind.

That only seemed to set him off more.

"You went to a club alone? And you came out this drunk? What if someone had put something in your drink? What if some girl had tried to get in a fight with you or you lost your wallet? What if some guy wouldn't take no for an answer?"

"I wasn't planning on getting this drunk!" I defended. I hated the way that he spoke to me like I was a child. It reminded me of how Bella would talk to me after I had done something stupid. "Besides, what difference does it make if I go home with a guy from a country bar or if I go home with a guy from a place that plays decent music? At least this time I would know that I wasn't having sex with my boss."

"No one ever plans on getting smashed." He snapped back, "I'm just thankful that I showed up when I did. Were you just going to walk home?"

"What were you even doing there?" I shot back. My eyes ran over his dark suit and styled hair in the passing street lights. He looked handsome, he always did, but he would've been way over dressed for a place like that. Plus, I would imagine that it would be quite hard to dance in a suit.

"We're here." He announced, slipping the car into neutral. "Come on, let's get you inside and into bed."

"I can handle myself from here, thank you."

Miles didn't even flinch at my venom filled words. His blue eyes drifted over my face, almost looking lazy or annoyed, "I would be a lot more comfortable if you would let me take you to your apartment."

"Fine, whatever." I couldn't help but think about the possibilities that would come from him being in my apartment with me again.

As it turns out my smart mouth would've gotten me in trouble if Miles hadn't been bold enough to overcome it. While climbing the stairs to get to my apartment I stumbled twice. Miles always had one hand on my elbow and each time I wobbled in my heels his grip would tighten and he would keep me upright. And when I reached my apartment door my hand eye coordination was so bad that I almost couldn't get the key in the lock.

Once the door was open I staggered inside, but Miles didn't move to follow me.

I knew I should've been relieved, but I only felt disappointment.

"Do you need anything else for the night?"

"No thank you."

But as I spoke there was a low, rumbling growl. One that was ominous. But one that I knew so well.

"Jesus Christ!" Miles shouted.

His hand groped at the wall and all the light switches he could reach were flicked on. My whole apartment was illuminated in seconds. And perched on the kitchen counter was Mickey. But the sweet raccoon who loved snuggles was not impressed with the new visitor. His teeth were bared and his eyes looked feral.

There was a moment of stillness. Miles's eyes bounced from Mickey who was up on his hind legs and hissing, to me. I was staring at him with my mouth flopped open, wondering what would be the right thing to tell him in this moment before he blew up and the whole complex heard his outburst.

But Miles was faster. He always was.

"Alright, just come towards me really slowly." He whispered to me.

"Miles, it's alright."

"Exactly, just stay calm and come towards me. It won't attack you if you don't aggravate it."

"It's just Mickey."

"No, that's a raccoon. Now I need you to come here."

Not knowing how else to demonstrate just how safe I was I moved out of the living room and into the kitchen with enough speed that Miles wouldn't have time to stop me, but not so fast that I would fall. And when Mickey saw me coming for him the rumbles coming from his chest ceased. After I scooped him up and cradled him to my chest like a baby he began making his usual chattering noise instead.

"Are you crazy?" Miles demanded, but then he saw just how calm Mickey was in my grasp.

"This is Mickey."

"You named a raccoon? Don't you know they are one of the biggest carriers of rabies and they can transfer an intestine worm to humans?"

"He has been vaccinated and he is routinely checked out by my vet. He is one of the only people that know that I have Mickey. Having a raccoon as a pet is illegal, but the situation made it necessary. So please, calm down before someone overhears you and calls animal services."

Miles scraped his hand down his face as my words fell over him. There was a tense moment when he looked torn and my heart rate increased. It had taken every functioning cell in my body to conjure up my previous attempt to calm him down. In my state I couldn't do any better and I didn't know what I would do if he decided not to believe me and called animal control.

"I'm going to let this go for tonight, but we are going to have a long talk about this at work when you're sober," he warned. "Now, come on, let's get you ready for bed."

At the mention of the bed I tensed up. Yes, he had been in my apartment before. Yes, he had taken me home from a night of drinking before. But that was where the similarities between these nights ended. I knew I couldn't be alone with him in my bedroom this time. that didn't stop me from wanting it though.

"I'm not tired," I argued.

The corner of his mouth quirked up as if he expected me to say that, but he only nodded his head. While I all but fell onto the couch with mickey still in my arms, Miles disappeared for a moment. I absently turned on the television, but my wandering eyes and short attention span couldn't follow the story line of the drama I was watching. Then Miles returned. There was a second of hesitation. His eyes locked on Mickey who couldn't be bothered by him now and he decided it was safe to approach.

"Alright, my little goddess shut your eyes," he murmured while his fingers gently turned my head upward.

The sober part of me knew that I shouldn't be so willing. But the drunk part of me was stronger. I wanted this man all over again. My head tipped up, just as his fingers suggested, and I felt my chest rise and fall a little faster. He was going to kiss me. I was sure of it and I wanted nothing more.

Then something wet swiped my cheek. My eyes opened.

"Shut them," he ordered again, "I can't imagine make up remover in the eye feels very nice."

My eyes fell shut again and I snapped my mouth shut. I felt like a fool and was immediately chiding myself. I was a fool for thinking I should kiss him. He was my boss now. He controlled my livelihood. And I was even dumber for thinking he would want to kiss me when I was like this: drunk, mean, and holding onto a raccoon.

Miles was either pretending like he didn't notice or he truly hadn't. He was humming to himself and the cleansing wipe was rubbed over my skin. He was careful and attentive around my eyes, nose, and lips, but he was very thorough. After about two minutes and three cleansing wipes he made a sound of approval and moved away.

"You're all good. No premature wrinkles for you."

"Thank you," I mumbled through a yawn, "For everything."

"You are more than welcome, Nike. Now, get yourself to bed soon. I want to see at work bright and early on Monday."

He shot me one last smile before leaving. And I was left wishing that he had just kissed me a taken me to bed again.