Addicted To You #1 || MJ

8.

His expectations were darkness. Just darkness. And he was right. He closed the door slowly behind him. He could feel her presence. It was too strong. His eyes endeavoured to adjust to the darkness but it was no use. This darkness wouldn't allow Michael's eyes to adjust.

His feet stood firmly on the carpet. He could hear the soft taps of her heels making contact with the floor. Michael knew that her identity wasn't going to be revealed. At least not today.

Two warm hands pulled him forward. The hands moved Michael's hands down to her waist. Her face came towards the lower side of Michael's face. He could feel her lips on his neck-though they were not on his neck. She smelt very womanly. She smelt of dark roses. Her breathing made Michael's pulse rise. And not for any good reasons.

He felt her full and plump lips on his cheek. Her lips felt hot against his skin. Her lips moved slowly downwards to the corner of his lips. Michael felt so wrong. He needed to pull away. But he needed the evidence..

He then felt her lips. All of her lips on his. Her hands moved to his back. Michael felt himself shaking as if he were cold-on the inside. For one split second, and one split second only, he thought her lips were Chantelle's. It was just how gentle she was being. He didn't expect her to be like this. He expected her to be rough and demanding.

Michael removed his lips with immediate speed. He forced himself not to lick his lips, an automatic thing which happened to anybody, or to touch them.

"Who are you?" Michael whispered, almost sounding inaudible. He dropped his hands from her waist. But, almost instantly, she took his hands and placed them on her waist.

Michael felt her lips again. How badly he wanted to pull away. Her hands trailed down his back. He felt parts of her hands enter his back pocket. She was slipping something into his back pocket.

She quickly pressed her lips on his once again. She removed her hands. Michael slowly dropped his hands from her waist. He turned around and fortunately managed to find his hands on the door. He pulled it open. The dim lights seemed, peculiarly, to enter the room. He could turn around. He could. So he did. The darkness had been lifted up a little to a point where Michael's eyes could adjust.

But she wasn't there.

Michael wasn't going to waste his time. He covered the side of his face to cover what probably had many red smudges on.

He jogged down the two flights of stairs. He saw the receptionist giving him a weirded out look. He turned away and pretended to be interested in a sign which said, 'Fire exits in office rooms'.

Michael went out of the building. He looked into the front mirror. Big red smudges on his cheek, and one on his lips. He sighed. How was he going to cover this up without getting stares from other drivers? He turned the lights off in the car. Maybe that would reduce any attention.

He called Luna.

"Luna, where are you?"

"Michael, you're going to have to meet me here," she gave him the details. "I don't really want to walk. It's too dark."

Michael sighed, understandably. "Alright. Don't move from where you are."

"Promise," she disconnected the call.

Michael started to drive, still thinking about how he was going to tell his family how the smudges had gotten there.

★★★

Michael saw Luna standing on the pavement with her arms crossed.

"It's three o'clock in the morning. Get in the car," Michael demanded.