Page 57 of Unleashed

I was draped limply in his strong arms, and my awareness drifted in and out like a fading radio signal. The rhythmic clack of Michael’s shoes echoed down the long hallway, each step reverberating in my mind like the dull beat of a drum.

Before I knew it, I was sinking into the softness of a plush, white duvet cover. The contrast between my heavy limbs and the luxurious bedding was jarring, but the alcohol dulled thesensation. I barely registered that Michael was crouching at the foot of the bed, gently slipping off my shoes.

My legs twitched involuntarily, and I looked down, confused for a moment. “What… what’re you doing?”

“Just taking off your shoes,” Michael replied, his voice calm as he continued with the task. “Do you want to get undressed?”

I smiled lazily, letting my eyes drift half-shut. “You undress me. You know you want to.”

Michael’s hand paused on my ankle, and his jaw tightened. “I certainly do not. I’ll give you a few minutes.”

He stood abruptly, walking toward the door. The soft thud of the door closing behind him left me in a cocoon of silence, my mind swimming in the haze of alcohol. A minute later, I blinked blearily as I saw a black t-shirt placed on the bed near my head. I turned slightly to find Michael standing by the door.

“You can put this on,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Get under the covers, and I’ll be right back.”

I watched through heavy eyelids as he stepped out again, leaving me alone. For a moment, I stared up at the high, white ceiling, my vision blurring at the edges. The weight of exhaustion settled over me like a fog. Gathering whatever energy I had left, I sluggishly pushed myself up and started undressing, fumbling with the buttons of my blouse and the zipper of my skirt. Both pieces slipped to the floor, leaving me in nothing but my powder-blue lace bra and panties.

Just as I reached for the t-shirt, the door creaked open. Michael walked in, carrying a glass of water, and froze mid-step when his eyes landed on me.

“Michael—” I started, instinctively covering myself with my arms, but my movements were clumsy and slow.

His head snapped to the side, turning away so fast I could hear the tension in his neck. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice tight. “I thought you were already changed.”

“You can look… if you want,” I teased, the words escaping in a whisper that hung in the air between us.

“I don’t want,” he replied sharply, still not looking at me. “Put the t-shirt on.”

I watched his back for a moment, the muscles in his shoulders tense beneath his suit jacket, before finally dragging the soft fabric over my head. “I’m dressed,” I said, my voice softer now.

He turned, his eyes immediately flicking to my bare legs before quickly focusing on my face. “Ready for bed?”

“Are you sleeping with me?” I asked, the question more innocent in my hazy mind than it sounded aloud.

Michael’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “No. I’ll sleep on the couch or in the guest room.”

“Why bother?” I said, shifting under the covers. “Sleep with me. Just sleep.”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he exhaled loudly. “I think not.”

“I’m not comfortable alone,” I admitted, my voice softer now, almost pleading. “I don’t know your apartment.”

He paused, weighing his options before finally giving in with another sigh. “Fine. I’ll sleep on the chaise. Happy?”

Michael stepped forward, reaching around me to pull back the thick, white duvet. The sheets beneath were pristine, monogrammed with his initials in red script on the pillowcases. “Get in,” he said, his voice quieter now.

I slipped under the covers, a soft moan escaping my lips as the cool, silky sheets brushed against my skin. I wriggled deeper into the bed, propping myself up against the padded cream-colored headboard and tucking the duvet tightly around me. The softness enveloped me, pulling me deeper into the warmth.

Michael placed the glass of water on the nightstand beside me, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out twoaspirin tablets. “You might need these when you wake up,” he said, setting them beside the glass.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked, my eyelids already feeling impossibly heavy.

He walked over to a nearby door, flicking on the light. “Right here,” he said. “I’ll leave the light on just in case.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, my words trailing off as the exhaustion took over, and I began to drift into sleep.

I woke with a jolt,my body drenched in a cold sweat. The room was still dark, but something in my stomach churned violently. Nausea hit me hard, climbing up my throat like a wave I couldn’t control.

I groaned and bolted upright, clutching my abdomen as I rushed to get off the bed. My feet barely touched the ground before I was scrambling toward the bathroom, hoping I’d make it in time.

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