Chapter seventeen

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Ivory's POV

"Shoot her."

"No... I can't!"

"Last time, Jackson. Shoot her or I'll shoot her for you."

As I rubbed my eyes and take a good look on what's going on, Michael and Nixon was infront of me in a distance. Michael's neck was wrapped by Nixon's hand, with a knife. Michael was holding a gun, pointing right at me.

Nixon was threatening Michael to shoot me.

"Shoot her, or the whole Jackson family dies." Nixon closed up the knife to Michael's neck. Michael still refuses to do anything. Nixon got more pissed and he grabbed Michael's hand which was holding the gun : "die."

BAM.

"Argh!" I jumped up, looking at the surroundings. It was just a dream, thank god it was just a dream. I looked again, I was changed into pajamas and I was in a bedroom.

Michael's bedroom.

"What happened?" Michael got up and rubbed his eyes, yawning. He was sleeping on a chair, his arms and head on top of the edge of the bed.

"I... had a nightmare." I confessed, sat up a little.

"Aw, I hate the nightmares. It's gonna be alright." He caressed my cheek.

"It was so, realastic. You were in it..." he furrowed his eyebrows and sighed playfully after my words, he said : "what was it about?"

"Nixon was threatening you to shoot me, Nixon was holding a knife at your neck. And... he made you shoot me..."

His face turned blank, he sat on the edge of the bed, right beside me, "I will never shoot you. Don't let the dream haunt you." He stroked my hair gently.

We remained silence. I was trying to get back to sleep, my head laying on his chest as he was now below me, comforting me. He's such a gentleman. Our position mantained for a long time, until I spoke up : "Michael?" I looked up at him.

"Mhmm?" His eyes started slightly cracking open, his sight on me.

"Oh, you're still awake." I mumbled, pulling the blanket up.

"You can't sleep? What's bothering you?" He rested his chin ontop of my head.

"I don't know. I just, can't sleep." I shrugged, stroking his arm that was wrapped around my waist. "Talk to me? Again?"

"Sure." He simply replied. We ended up quiet, no one willing to open their damn lips and pronounce words. But, our bodies were communicating. We started, touching each other. He adjusted me to sit on his lap and laying down, my chest on his belly and my head on his chest. He continues, "did I ever tell you you have a beautiful body?"

"No, Michael." I replied, enjoying his touch. I could feel him smirking as he continued : "you have such a beautiful body... can't believe it's mine." He says in a sexual way.

... I know what he wanted.

But I'm not sure that do I want it.

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