Elusive

[ chapter two. ]

At this point, I don't want to think, breathe, or speak, I just want to continue to pack my bags. I can't stay here. Not with a liar for a fiancé. I make up my mind to stay at my mother's - I knew she would receive me with open arms. I don't even think she likes Michael. When we got engaged she didn't have much to say and didn't seem very enthusiastic that her only daughter was getting engaged to the man she loved. Maybe she knew something I didn't. Because one thing I didn't know was that Michael would betray and hurt me like this. My vision became blurry as tears continued to flow profusely like a faucet that wouldn't turn off, but I couldn't help but to notice the gleaming of my 18-karat diamond engagement ring - a reminder of the lifetime I so desperately want with this man. The tears stung as I cried harder every time I caught a glimpse of the precious jewel.

"Babygirl, stop," I faintly hear.

I stop my frantic motions to close my eyes for a moment, just to calm myself down. I could feel his presence at the door, making me cringe inwardly. What more could he possibly say? I'm done.

"Babygirl, stop," I mock, slamming my suitcase shut, facing him standing there with a pleading look on his face. I shift, feeling a bit uncomfortable - I probably look a mess right now as my tears streak and stain my face, messing up my mascara.

"Hannah was just a friend," Michael starts, and I shoot daggers at him with my eyes. The immense hurt I feel was quickly transforming into that familiar rage. I could feel everything, even every passing second that went by as Michael began to explain himself. This time, I don't think I could stop myself if I happen to slap him across his face. I don't deserve this.

"She's tried to get with me," I look at him while he talks, surveying his features to assess whether or not he's about to tell a lie. "But, after that, I stopped talking to her, and I just feel guilty about entertaining her, that's why I haven't been myself lately I-"

I raise my hand up to interrupt him. I've heard enough. The look in his eyes told me enough, he couldn't have been lying - his eerily calm voice spoke volumes. Maybe, just maybe he was telling the truth. I've made up my mind.

"You need to keep your fucking entertainment on stage, Michael."

Michael cautiously fills in the space between us, cupping my damp face in his comforting hand before whispering against my lips,

"Babygirl, could you ever forgive me?"

It's something about the way he calls me "babygirl" or the way he touches me that turns me into putty in his hands. The intense, sincere look in those glorious, dark brown orbs of his have my knees threatening to buckle and my panties quickly dampening. Sure, he probably led the girl on unknowingly, thinking he was just being polite, but he didn't do anything, and that's all that mattered, right? He had already beat himself up about it so what was the point of punishing him for it? I missed him, I missed his intimate touch, and now, we can move forward and focus on our engagement.

"Take me to the bed." I softly say, smiling against his lips before pressing mine against them. I let out a small gasp as Michael picked me up bridal style and carried me into our bedroom. Our lips never disconnected, our tongues began dancing together as I wrapped my arms lovingly around his neck while his big hands explored and caressed my curves. The feeling of cool sheets against the skin on my exposed back along with the sensation on Michael's tongue now rolling against the heated flesh on my neck leave goosebumps. The familiar feeling of his succulent lips against mine still lingered, just like it used to when we were sexual.