Anna always carried herself like someone in control. Meetings, dinners, even dates—she made the rules. But tonight, in that quiet hotel room, something shifted.
Michael’s hand lingered on her back, drawing slow circles. “You okay?” he asked, noticing the slight quiver when she said his name.
She nodded, then pressed her forehead to his chest. “It’s been a long time since someone touched me like I matter.”
He held her tighter. Not as a reaction—but as a promise. And in that silence, her body leaned into his, not out of need, but surrender.