You had asked for separate rooms, insisted on it actually. So when you arrived to the hotel and they told you that only one room was available, you told Michael in no uncertain terms that you would be staying somewhere else. He was adamant that you stay at the hotel, reminding you that Tommy had put him in charge of your safety and to that you rolled your eyes. And so, here you were with Michael carrying your and his bags to the room you had been upgraded to. You unlock the door, not holding it for him and breeze in to the large middle room, heading to the bar. He pushes the door open with his foot, following behind you and going to the bedroom. He puts the bags on the ground next to the door and looks around the ornately decorated room. A large four poster bed was pushed back against the back wall, a fluffy duvet on top with too many pillows for his liking. Deep burgundy stripes lined with reflective silver adorned the walls, a desk is sat in a small alcove to the left. There's a stately dark wooden desk, intricate carvings on the legs and a marble top, sat behind it is an equally impressive creme cushioned chair adding a welcome contrast.
"Michael" you call, pouring yourself a glass of bourbon and looking over the rest of the bar.
"There's only one bed" he replies, coming from the bedroom and taking you in with a critical eye.
"Can you sleep on the couch?" You ask, annoyance laced in the question and you stride green cushioned bay window seat, perching yourself there. You push the panes outwards, kicking off your heels and draw your legs comfortably under you.
His eyes roam you and he admires your silhouette. The curve of your jaw meeting a dimpled chin. Lips wide and full, a nose curving into a delicate dip at the end. Lashes framing beautiful eyes and he knows he's fucked. You look peaceful and content, even with him hovering around you. He pulls his cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one and your nose wrinkles as he does.
"Do you have to smoke?"
"Do you have to complain?"
Your eyes roll as you lift the heavy crystal tumbler to your lips. The burn is a welcome distraction from his ever smug and stifling presence, the smell of the breeze wafting in from the ocean calms you. A smile graces your lips as your leant against the window sill. He thought you looked beautiful there, cradling the glass against your chest and staring out at the ocean. The setting sun sent pink, orange, and gold shadows over you and lit you in an angelic way. He tears his eyes and mind from you, ambling to the bar to pour himself a whiskey then sitting on the sofa. He takes a drag of his cigarette, closing his eyes and tilting his head to rest it back on the sofa.
"Did you hear me?" He asks, lazily reaching over and ashing his cigarette on the tray next to him.
"There's only one bed. Did you hear me?"
"Can I sleep on the couch? No." He would if it were anyone else but the thought of sleeping in the same bed as you -even with space between the two of you- was too enticing.
"Then I'm sleeping on the couch"
"No one is sleeping on the couch. I can't ensure your safety if you're one the couch and I'm in the other room, now can I?" He spoke slowly which irritated you. You felt as if he treated you lik a child. You were only a year younger than him and yet, he acts as if its a lifetime. The smug look he constantly wore, as if he knew everything, also bothers you.
You turn your head to look at him and find him to be looking at you already. You arch one brow, lifting the crystal to your lips for another drink.
"But you can if you're on the couch" you smile at him, feeling triumphant because you knew he couldn't argue your logic.
"That I can.." his head bobs in a slow nod, eyes scanning your face and stopping on your lips, flicking back to your eyes "but I don't want to. And I know that you don't want to either."
