Chapter 2: Building Tension
Michael and I had been dating since we were in high school, but we never took things to the next level. Not until tonight, his twenty-first birthday. We'd driven three hours from home to get to this fancy-ass hotel in the city. Frankly, I'd never been Kent's luxury hotel before. A night like this was always something I pictured on screen, where the characters wore elaborate costumes and the set was a theater for their self-indulgences.
But here I was.
Me, Alice, a small-town girl living in a decidedly non-small-town setting. The walls were covered in plum velvet, and the bedspread felt like silk against my skin. In this moment, I wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in it, and wrapped up in Michael. I just never imagined it would play out quite like this.
Michael emerged from the bathroom, drying his short black hair with a white hotel towel. When he saw me standing there, eyes wide, he knew something was wrong.
“Alice?”
I looked at the ground before whispering, “I’m scared, Michael.”
Without hesitation, he threw down the towel and approached me, wrapping his thick arms around my shoulders, and said, “There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m here with you, and I’m not going to let anything bad happen.”
As I looked up at him, enveloped in his embrace, I believed him. “But, it’s just, I don’t know what to do,” I admitted, embarrassed.
I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I hadn’t expected these feelings of self-doubt to bubble up. I had always imagined I would be brimming with confidence, but I guess there’s always that gulf between imagination and reality.
He responded with a gentle laugh, took my hand and, with a mischievous spark in his dark eyes, gave a slight tug, leading me into the room. “ Trust me, Alice. I’ve got this covered.
Close your eyes,” he instructed softly, and I obeyed, letting out a shaky breath. I could feel him close, sensed him moving around me, bringing the room’s lush textures together with the softness of his movements, allowing the scents of him—soap, sweat, and something just so incredibly him—to wash over me.
Michael’s fingertips brushed my neck and he carefully unfastened the clasp of my teal earrings, placing them on the velvet-covered bench at the foot of the bed.
The silky fabric tickled my bare arms as I shivered slightly. Then, he found my hair-tie, and long strands cascaded down my shoulders. With infinite patience, he undid the buttons on my blouse, lingering to kiss my collarbone, the hollow of my throat, and the moles scattered across my chest.
As he worked his way down, I felt my breathing become more shallow, more urgent.
My heart raced. When I sensed him on his knees, the breath caught in my throat. He eased my skirt down, kissing my hips before it reached the floor. All that was left were my lace panties and the tension in the air as we teetered on the precipice of the unknown.
But I trusted Michael. He had never steered me wrong before. And this moment was no different. My partner in crime guided my body towards the bed, encouraging me to sit down with a tender hand on my lower back. My pulse quickened as he nestled between my knees.
He gently lifted each leg, slipping my shoes and socks off. His fingers traced the curve of my calf before angling my body back, urging me to lie down on this strange, yet inviting bed. I was an open book, waiting to be explored by the love of my life.
Michael's gaze met mine, true warmth emanating from his eyes. I was empowered to let go of my anxiety. I felt seen, completely understood. It made me bold. I brushed my fingertips against his cheek, craving his mouth on mine at the very moment.