Games and Pleasure

Prologue

PROLOGUE

Sin became a luxury, a flower set in her hair, a diamond fastened on her brow.
~ "La Curée" Émile Zola

The first words he said to me were still clear in my head, the fire that hid behind them was enough to make me come back to him.

He was a man full of spirit, conviction and lies. His lies hurt but his spirit, his tenderness, made him who he was and right now he was mine and I was his. No one matter outside of this hotel room, no one.

The pain he went through could easily shatter a persons life into a million piece but not his life, no, he only grew stronger, angrier even and I was his shield, his protection, even if he was too stubborn to admit it.

I didn't understand how we ended up at this hotel again. We met here one year ago, July 20th, my sister's wedding. I was the maid of honor, he was just a guest. I didn't love him back then, I respected him and I wanted him. Everyone knew who he was but no one understood him. His mind was too complex for a young 22 year old man, but he managed to make every little thing seem perfect.

I took one last look at his face, his sleeping body lay next to mine and his face held a frown, maybe from the sun shining through the huge windows or maybe because that was his signature look. It was hard to make him smile, not a lot of things made Harry Styles happy, you had to really know how his mind worked to bring some happiness into his small world that only revolved around him.

I tenderly ran my thumb across his left eyebrow, analyzing every corner of his face. I wanted to enjoy the moment because I knew it wouldn't last. He was too toxic and I was too in love. We couldn't keep playing games with each other. He couldn't keep playing games with me. I knew what I wanted, him. But he wanted more and I couldn't offer him more. I was just a 17 year old girl who fell deeply in love with the wrong man.

He wasn't holding me, he never held me in bed. But he was facing me, for the first time since we started sleeping together he faced me and I enjoyed it. He told me before I came to this hotel room that he was changing, changing for me and when someone like him, so used to the pain, tells you something like that, you don't believe him, you shouldn't.

Carefully I stood up from the bed making sure not to waking him up. I didn't want to hear what he had to say, because I knew he would convince me to stay. He needed me and I wanted to be there for him but just for once I had to be selfish, I couldn't keep putting his needs before mine. I was drained.

Taking my folded clothes from the sofa under the window I entered the bathroom, slowly locking the door behind me. I placed the clothes on the white counter, next to the sink and I took a long look at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were red from the lack of sleep and tangles began to form on the tips of my hair. My freckles, the freckles he loved were fully on display, no make up to cover them. He said he liked me better like this, he made me confident and stronger but at the same time he managed to destroy me.

Taking a shower would make too much noise, he was a light sleeper and any sound could wake him up instantly, I couldn't risk it. Throwing my clothes on and running away from this room was my only option, I didn't even bring a toothbrush, great. I ran my hand across the electric sink in front of me and water began to come out. I refreshed my face with some of it before putting my clothes on.

My bare feet took me from the bathroom to the main door of the room in just a couple of seconds. With shoes-in-hand I looked at his sleeping position one more time, his arms were now resting in front of him, where my body once was, he didn't seem to notice that I was gone. Maybe he was changing after all, maybe I was no longer his addiction and this was his way of saying farewell to me. My heart ached at the thought, but my head knew it was the right thing. As much as I wanted him to fight for what we had, I knew it wasn't right, my mother would never approve and his constant obsession with power was stronger than his feelings for me or for any woman he had sleep with. God knows how many.