The chase

12

Strong arms are wrapped around my bare stomach tight enough to keep me in place.

And just like that I remember it all.

We fucked.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

I wait for the guilt to hit me like a truck but all I get is a heartache as I remember where it started.

I swallow the uneasiness settling in my core at the memory and try to move but I can't.

I slowly touch his arm to remove his grip but it doesn't budge.

I look at him to see his usually tight expression relaxed making him seem almost....angelic.

I know the word doesn't go with him but it's what I'm seeing.

His soft black hair is over his closed eyes, his lips are a dark shade of pink softening his features all together.

At this moment, the only things giving away the softness is the tattoos on his neck and the memories I have of him.

I slowly and carefully try to remove his arm again not wanting to wake him up.

I'd like to think it's because I don't want to face him but deep down, a fucked up part of me knows that's not the only reason.

He looks peaceful sleeping.

I succeed but soon face another difficulty, I'm sore.

Really sore.

I slowly stand up searching for my clothes from last night.

I put them on when I find them and walk out to Ivan's room to get ready because all my stuff are there.

I try so hard not to think of what happened yesterday but my brain sends tingles down my spine and puts pictures of his soft lips against my skin in my mind.

I should regret this.

I fucking begged him to fuck me. Him.

My mind decides to remind me of what I did but I push it aside.

I refuse to think of Mia or what happened.

I don't want to deal with it and if by running from it I'm a coward then be it.

I need a break.

I get in Ivan's bathroom and lock the door with my back against it.

Shit.

I don't how I take off my clothes or how I get under the warm water because I do it all on autopilot.

I shouldn't think of what happened this much.