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“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, though my voice wavers. My eyes catch the bruise under his eye—a reminder of what happened earlier. “I hate seeing you like this.”
“I know,” he says as he breaks away from me and opens a drawer. He drops our phones inside, locking it with purpose, and then he tucks the key into his pocket. “No distractions,” he says smoothly, staring at me. “No outside world.”
I somehow manage to speak. “Of course.”
A reassuring smile spreads across his face as he pulls me into his arms. His hug is warm, but there’s something boiling underneath that I can’t shake off.
His mouth crashes against mine, and it’s unsettling.
“After all this time, my dreams are coming true,” he whispers against my lips, his breath mingling with mine.
His words hit me harder than I expected, and so does the nagging feeling.
Micah’s lips move to my neck, and his hands tangle in my hair. I know where this is headed, and I’m not feeling it.
“I’d prefer not,” I say.
“Oh, come on. It’ll make you feel better,” he suggests. “An orgasm always does.”
“No.” I shoot him a glare. It’s a complete sentence.
“Fine,” he says, getting snippy.
I refuse to feel pressured into having sex with anyone. No means no.
“Thanks for understanding. I’m just exhausted.”
The truth is, I’m still upset about what happened earlier.
He steps closer and kisses my forehead. “I’m sorry. Just get some rest, baby girl. We’ve got a big week ahead of us, spending every minute together.”
I crawl under the blankets and pretend to fall asleep right away, but I stay wide awake in my head for what feels like hours. This is starting to feel like a weird nightmare that I woke up in the middle of, and nothing adds up. It takes all my willpower not to freak out.
* * *
The next morning,I wake up to an empty bed, exhausted. For a second, I’m totally disoriented, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. Panic flutters in my chest until reality kicks back in. The memories of last night’s tension linger at the edges of my mind, softened by the gentle morning light coming through the sheer curtains.
I sit up, let out a slow breath, and look toward the balcony. Beyond it, the calm sea stretches out, with boats lazily drifting on the water. It’s beautiful, but I have no idea where I am.
I stretch, shaking off the lingering discomfort, and head into the bathroom. The white marble feels nice under my bare feet, and the golden fixtures are cold against my fingers. The room is fancy, definitely my style, but it feels too sterile and fabricated. There’s an emptiness in this house that I can’t shake as I go through my morning routine.
Everything is impersonal, like a set that was put together just for me.
Once I’m dressed, I head downstairs, searching for Micah. My eyes scan over the paintings on the wall, and I don’t like them. I spot Micah on the back porch, his dark hair a mess, and he looks relaxed. Muscles ripple down his back, and I never realized how clean-cut he was. He’s not normally the type I would date.
I usually go for the rough-around-the-edges, tattooed-bad-boy type. The ones my mom always warned me about when I was a little girl.
A faint smile creeps onto my face as I watch him through the window, admiring his confident stance. As if he senses me, Micah turns around, and his green eyes light up when he sees me. He waves me over, and I notice he’s on his phone, like the rules don’t apply to him. I instantly grow frustrated.
I step onto the porch, joining him.
Micah pulls me close with one arm as he continues his conversation. “We can talk about this later. My fiancée just showed up. Absolutely. Bye.”
As he hangs up, the screen of his phone lights up for a second with a text, and I can’t help but glance at it. I thought I saw a woman’s name, and curiosity eats at me. He puts it away before I can see anything more.
“Good morning, baby girl. How’d you sleep?” he asks, kissing my forehead.
“Great actually,” I reply with a lie, taking in the fresh morning air and trying to shake off my worries. “I’m starving.”