Yes, Chef

Chapter 11: Straying Further

~Mads's POV~

A loud boom jolts me awake followed by a high-pitched whine. "Oh for fucks sake! Seriously?!"

The sound of a clearing throat and movement beneath me draws my attention immediately. I lock eyes with Benedict and I'm immediately flooded with regret. Snippets of the evening run through my mind. Not good, Mads. Not fucking good.

"Are you two fucking back here? Is that what's going on?" Our attention is drawn to Hillary, who is glaring at us from the doorway.

"Fuck off Hillary." Benedict grumbles, stifling a yawn and standing. My eyes widen as I take in his bare upper body but then I recall my hands on his skin, tracing the mesmerizing lines. I must have fallen asleep. God, I hope that's all it was!

"Oh my God, you are fucking back here! I can't believe Rod is okay with this." She shakes her head and turns on her heel. But before she goes, she flips the light off. "Get out, we're closed."

"Real fucking mature." I hear Benedict grumble before his tone and demeanor change. "Let's get you home, Mads. You feeling okay?"

My eyes have adjusted to the dim light. I see two empty water bottles on the floor and vaguely remember Benedict insisting that I hydrate. My head's a little foggy but it likely would have been worse without his advice. The motion of Benedict putting on his shirt distracts me for a moment but then he's offering me his hand.

"We need to walk back to the restaurant for my car." He says as I rise with his assistance. My body feels heavy.

"What time is it?" I croak out.

"Well don't you sound sexy at four o'clock in the morning?" He answers my question and I can't tell if he's joking or if he legitimately thinks I sound sexy. Either way, my hackles are raised.

"Did we..."

"Oh numerous times. Don't you remember?" He asks incredulously.

Oh no. Did I black out? I feel myself start to panic. I mean what I remember is bad enough but if I slept with him too...oh fuck.

His chuckle snaps me out of it. It's muffled for a second as he pulls on his hoodie. "No Mads. But you were pretty obsessed with checking out my ink. You offered to let me see yours too." I cringe. "But I declined."

"Thank you." I squeak.

Thankfully we don't run into Hillary as we exit. I stop walking, shivering once we hit the cold air. "I can, uh, just get an Uber."

"No, I'll take you home." He wraps an arm around my waist and I don't hesitate to cozy into his warmth. When I dressed earlier, I hadn't checked what the windchill would be at 4am because I expected to be home in bed!

Outside of his car, he opens the passenger door but halts me before I sit. I look at him with wide eyes uncertain of his intentions. He pulls his hoodie off and gestures for me to wear it. I try to protest even though I'm freezing. "No, I'm fine..."

He smirks. "Should I repeat what you told me when I used that phrase earlier?"

I vaguely remember admitting my attraction to him crudely. It's now the second time I've offered up that information. I accept his hoodie and pull it on, pressing my nose into the fabric and inhaling his scent. I feel like a perv but it does something to me. I can feel myself slipping. He leaves my side without a word and I sink into his vehicle. He drives to my place without needing my instruction.