I don’t move while he starts out of the kitchen. “What? Now?”
“Yes, now,” he says, looking over his shoulder with narrowed eyes.
“Shouldn’t we maybe talk about it first?” I ask, my heart already starting to pick up, sweat prickling my face. “Like, make a plan?”
“A plan.” He repeats, flat the way his voice has been since I got back from Christmas. One foot already out the door.
“I just—”
“Alex.” He sighs, his eyes meeting mine, the warmth draining out of them at my protest. “This is a one-time offer.”
It doesn’t feel the same this time, I can’t help but think as I cross the threshold into my room behind Mike. We’ve done this countless times. Slept together in this bed every night for months.
But it doesn’t feel the same.
“Close the door,” he says, already moving toward the bed.
I follow his command silently while he sits on the edge of the mattress, elbows on his knees, watching me with an expression that makes me want to hide.
This isn’t the soft Mike who goes on and on about my body and hugs me for no good reason and steals my clothes. Who always has a smile.
This Mike is closed off.
Expects the worst from me.
Was hurt by me.
“Take your clothes off,” he says. “And get on the bed.”
I grip the hem of my shirt, my hands shaking, but I pull my shirt over my head anyway, dropping it on the floor. My jeans next, fumbling with the button until it comes free. I can feel his eyes on me the whole time, and the room feels too small.
When I’m down to nothing, my clothes a pile on the floor, I stand in front of him, shivering even though it’s warm in here.
Mike’s gaze travels down and back up, taking in my body. This is familiar. Normal. What’s not normal is the pause in the middle where his eyes linger, and he raises a brow in question.
I don’t have to look down at myself to know I’m not hard. Not even close. My body has decided that whatever is happening right now isn’t safe, and no amount of wanting to fix things with Mike is enough to override that.
“Relax,” he says, like the thought of getting fucked is enough to elicit this reaction.
“Sorry. I’m good. Relaxing.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he gestures toward the bed anyway. “Lie down.” I crawl onto the bed and settle into my usual spot, but he shakes his head. “Flip over.”
I hesitate long enough for him to cross his arms, but I do it, moving onto my hands and knees, staring down at the mattress, trying not to shift too much. I focus on the sound of Mike standing up behind me, the familiar sound of him undressing. The clink of his rings coming off one by one and being set on the nightstand.
Something about that makes my eyes sting.
He cares about me.
It might not be love to him, and he’s angry with me right now, but he wouldn’t hurt me.
The bed dips when he gets on behind me.
I keep my eyes squeezed shut, a few tears slipping free while I take deep breaths, trying to stay calm. I’m safe. Everything is okay. It’s Mike.
His hands land on me at the same time, warm and steady andhis, and I tell myself over and over, this is Mike.
Mike.
