The thought of merely showing herself naked overwhelmed her. She had been foolish, thoughtless, and hastily, she began to draw back. It had been a mistake, this. She shouldn’t’ve incited him to cross his boundaries, the boundaries that for years, they’d abided by.
The blood inside her began to boil, and she could feel her heartbeat increasing; the heat between her legs, the fluttering butterflies in her stomach— the craving that always meant she had to pull away, almost unbearable. Michael, stop it.
He kissed her, hungrily, his tongue pushing harder into her mouth, drawing the breath out of her, hand cupping her cheek, possessively, as she tried to pull back. He wasn’t going to let her get away again. Oh, no. Not this time. Michael, I’m serious. But she wasn’t serious, and she knew that this was clearly what she wanted: one last night with him. And she knew that if he stopped— if he dared let her get away, she would hate him.
Suddenly, she pushed Michael away violently. She couldn’t take it. It had been enough, she told herself. It was already late, and she needed to get home before things went too far. “What, am I not good enough anymore?” He asked angrily, sitting up on the bed, and slamming his fist on the mattress. “ What the hell does Cassian have that I don’t?” He stood up. Samantha turned away, looking around for her black purse as Michael paced about the room, panting frustratedly. She had to get out.
“Michael…”
“Before, I was the one who had to call out it was enough, and now—“
“Michael, you don’t understand! Cassian is not—”
He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand anything of what was going on. Bit how could he? All he knew, was that there was a new man in Samantha’s life, the raven haired man, with the electric blue eyes—Cassian, and that the more time she spent with him, the farther she drifted from within his reach.
Rapidly, Michael grabbed her by the shoulders, and pinned her against the wall, kissing her, his body pressing against hers, wantonly. “Michael, I don’t love you!” She blurted out, the sentence bursting in the most abrupt, and unexpected manner, as she shoved him to the side. “…What?” He looked at her, dark brown eyes staring back at her own, shocked, bewildered. She couldn’t’ve said that… Had she really just told him she didn’t love him? Told him, Michael Raleigh, she did not love him? Michael, her high school sweetheart. Michael, her intimate friend, and confidant. Michael, her beloved. A dark, ugly feeling passed over him.
“You don’t mean that.” He said, but her words had already taken effect, and he felt his heart stop.
