His files had looked the same since he had sat on his desk an hour ago. He was late in his meeting and distracted. Now, he could hardly concentrate on the words before him.
He grabbed his phone from the table but dropped it immediately, recalling the message he had sent her just moments ago.
"What was that?" He mumbled to himself, feeling more frustrated by his situation. "What have I done?" Rubbing his palms across his face before dropping his elbows on top of the table.
Instead of clearing one problem by getting rid of the reporter, he believed he had just created one massive problem that could bite him in the ass in the long run.
He was not drunk.
He was sane at the time.
But he was horny as hell.
Still, that was not an excuse for what he did last night. But was he guilty, ashamed, happy, satisfied, or regretful? He was not entirely sure what he felt about it.
