A One Night Stand With My Boss

Chapter 169

Camila felt a rush of panic and lowered her head. She took deep breaths, trying to stay calm, but the fluttering in her heart would not settle.

It wasn't until Connor slumped down like a sack of potatoes that Camila suddenly tightened her grip around him.

Their bodies pressed closely together, and Camila could distinctly feel the man's breath and heartbeat. Her cheeks instantly felt as if they were scorched, burning hot.

"Mr. Connor..." Camila whispered softly, her voice slightly husky.

Connor seemed to hear someone calling him. He opened his mouth slightly, as if he wanted to say something. However, his speech was slurred from the alcohol, only a few muddled syllables escaping.

"What?" Camila couldn't make out what he was saying.

She took a deep breath, intending to help Connor to the bedroom. But her strength was limited, and the weight of a drunken person felt heavier. She struggled just to move him a few steps.

Unable to move him further, Camila shifted her efforts, managing to get him onto the sofa with difficulty.

Thud—

Following Connor's momentum, Camila fell onto the sofa with him, collapsing into his arms.

The closeness sent a wave of panic through Camila. She immediately scrambled up from Connor.

Camila stood next to the sofa, taking deep breaths, fanning her face rapidly, but unable to cool the heat on her cheeks.

She went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face, slightly easing the burning sensation, and dried off. She then fetched a fresh towel from the cupboard and dampened it.

Back in the living room, she sat beside Connor, gently wiping his face with the towel.

Connor's breathing was deep and slow, his head tilted, eyes tightly shut, his perfect features outlined in the soft light. NôvelDrama.Org (C) content.

Camila watched him quietly. She lowered her head and gently placed a kiss on his cheek, which was faintly flushed from the alcohol. It seemed as if the scent of the liquor seeped from Connor's cheek to Camila's lips, slowly fermenting.

Camila felt intoxicated, her soul drunk. "Connor, I like you." She murmured shyly, her voice almost drowned out by her breathing.

Connor still had his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling lightly. He was clearly still in a deep sleep.

Camila stood up to grab a blanket, gently covering him before dimming the living room lights. She sat on one side of the sofa, picking up a book, occasionally glancing at the sleeping man.

Soon after, Connor suddenly frowned in his sleep. Following that, his body twitched slightly, and his breathing became erratic.

He suddenly opened his eyes, but his gaze was blurry. He struggled to sit up, but his body seemed uncooperative, flopping back onto the sofa.

Camila immediately put down her book and rushed over to help him, asking anxiously. "Mr. Connor, are you okay?"

Connor's face turned pale, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, looking like he might vomit. "I feel sick."

Camila gasped, "Wait! Hold on!"

The carpet was underneath, and it would be hard to clean. She turned and ran to fetch a trash can, placing it in front of him, gently patting his back.

With a slightly commanding tone, she instructed, "Vomit in here."

Connor struggled to swallow, trying to suppress the rising nausea. However, the discomfort intensified, and eventually, he couldn't hold back and vomited violently.

The scene was somewhat messy and distressing. Camila immediately handed Connor some tissues and continued to pat his back gently.