Chapter 85

Chapter 85

How could she possibly feel nothing for him?

And why did that even matter?

"Just… go…" Her voice returned at last, trembling with unshed tears. "Please, Michael. Let me go."

Michael looked at her—at the plea and the struggle written so plainly in her eyes—and something inside him gave away.

"Give me one chance, Jessica." His voice was low and hoarse, edged with desperation. He leaned down slowly, his face filling her field of vision.

Jessica's heart hammered against her ribs.

She squeezed her eyes shut on instinct, her lashes fluttering against her skin like fragile wings.

And then—warmth. Softness. His lips brushing against hers.

Jessica went rigid. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to resist.

She wanted to push him away, to run away—but her hands felt pinned in place, refusing to move.

He must have sensed her resistance, because the kiss grew gentler. Tentative. Almost pleading.

And that gentleness shattered something in her.

She stopped fighting. Her body softened against his. And then—without meaning to—she parted her lips.

Her surrender set something off in Michael that had been building up for months.

He stopped holding back, no longer resisting. The kiss deepened, burning and consuming them.

One hand slid to the back of her head, pressing her closer. The other traced the curve of her waist, slipping down to the lower part of her back.

Jessica's thoughts scattered. Every sensation sharpened to unbearable clarity.

She could smell the faint scent of his cologne, feel the heat of his breath and taste the desperate hunger in his kiss.

Her hands moved of their own accord, sliding up to his neck, pulling him closer as she kissed him back with equal fervor.

Michael's mouth left hers, trailing down her jaw, her throat—greedy and relentless.

Then he lifted her. She gasped, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

He carried her across the room and laid her down on the narrow single bed, following right after her, his weight pinning her beneath him.

Jessica kept her eyes closed, her body trembling.

She kissed him back, her fingers clawing at the collar of his uniform, wrinkling the crisp fabric.

Michael's breathing turned ragged. His eyes burned with an intensity she'd never seen before.

One hand gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him. The other moved to the buttons of her blouse, his fingers making sure to open them, one by one.

"Jessica…" Her name left his lips like a prayer.

The narrow bed could barely contain them. In the heat of the moment, they rolled too close to the edge—and tumbled off.

They hit the carpeted floor with a dull thud.

Jessica cried out, but Michael had her. His arms wrapped around her protectively, his body cushioning the fall.

He kissed her again without hesitation, concern flickering in his eyes even as his mouth found hers with renewed urgency.

Then—a phone rang.

Sharp and intrusive. Shattering the moment like it was made of glass.

Jessica's eyes flew open. Her heart lurched, as she fumbled to reach her phone.

It was Thora. The landlady.

She answered on reflex.

"Jessica." Thora's voice came through, equal parts amused and exasperated. "Honey, I know you've got company, but the walls in this old building are thin. Keep it down, yeah?"

The words hit Jessica like a bucket of ice water.

Her face went scarlet. Blood rushed to her ears. Mortification crashed over her in waves so violent she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

She shoved Michael off her and scrambled to her feet, frantically straightening her clothes.

Michael, infuriatingly, looked completely unfazed. He propped himself up on one elbow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He stood slowly, towering over her, and his tone turned commanding. "This place isn't good enough for you. Come back with me."

"Get out!" Jessica's face burned. She didn't even think—just pushed his chest. "Where I live is none of your business! Leave. Now."

Suddenly a loud crack came from nearby.

The bed frame gave a sickening groan. The slats splintered. The entire structure collapsed inward with a sharp, unmistakable snap.

Jessica stared at the wreckage, frozen.

The bed had just… broken.

They locked eyes. The silence was excruciating.

Her phone rang again.

Jessica winced and answered, her voice high and panicked. "Thora! It's not—it's not what you think! We just—we accidentally broke the bed. That's all. I swear—"

"Mm-hmm." Thora's tone was loaded. "Sure, honey. Just get it fixed tomorrow, alright?"

The line went dead.

Jessica exhaled shakily and looked up at Michael, who was now studying the collapsed bed frame with mild curiosity.

He nudged one of the broken slats with his shoe and shook his head.

"This," he said flatly. "Is not fixable."