Chapter 26
ALEX
I haven’t left my apartment in three days.
Three fucking days!
I’ve barely made it out of my bedroom.
Fucking Elijah.
I can still smell him—on my pillowcase, my sheets. He’s fucking everywhere. And yet… nowhere at all.
Not anymore.
I’ve cried every goddamn tear I had in me. Drank myself into a stupor—right up until the bottles ran dry.
My sister came through, thank God. Picked up Emilee from the airport and took her back to her place in Connecticut. Gave me space to get my shit together.
Funny.
I thought I had my shit together.
Jesus.
Who would’ve thought I’d be jilted by love again? I hadn’t opened my heart to anyone since Meera left. And the one time I finally do—this is what I get.
But Elijah… he crept up on me, totally unexpected.
I let him tear down the walls I’d spent years building.
Let him crawl into the mess of me and make a home inside my wrecked, goddamn soul.
And then—like a fucking fool—I let myself fall head over heels in love with him.
Big mistake.
Big fucking mistake.
Damn it. But I love him.
Still.
Why, Elijah? Why?
I can’t sit in this anymore. My skin feels like it doesn’t even belong to me. I reek of sweat, whiskey, and sleep I don’t remember getting.
Dragging myself to my feet, I shuffle toward the bathroom like something half alive. My body aches like it’s been mourning too.
I rub my eyes, lean against the shower door, and crank the faucet on.
I wait for the water temperature to heat up. I’m craving the hard spray of the jets just to remind me I still have a body. That I’m still here.
He’s not going to call me again. I know that now. Not after I saw him with—Gabriel. Not after I ignored every call and text he made that night.
I guess it was only a matter of time before he gave up on me.
I squeeze my eyes as memories of Elijah tear through me like broken glass. His voice. His touch. The way he used to look at me—like I was the only thing in the room.
Flashes I can’t control.
Can’t silence.
Goddamn him.
He was inside me—mind, body, and soul. I gave him that.
Willingly.
I’ve never felt a connection like that in my life. And I really believed—god, I believed—he felt it too.
Apparently not.
What he shares with Gabriel obviously means so much more. More than what we had. More than what I thought we were building.
They have a history.
A daughter.
Fucking wedding bands, for Christ’s sake.
What the hell was I thinking?
A sharp buzz from the intercom slices through the air, yanking me out of my spiral.
Grabbing a towel, I step out of the shower, steam peeling off my skin. For the first time all day, I actually feel lighter. Almost human again.
I slip into a clean pair of lounge pants, no underwear, and start drying my hair with one hand while fumbling for my phone with the other. I wasn’t expecting anyone.
I open the building’s app and pull up the entry feed.
“Yeah?” I say flatly.
“It’s Elijah. Let me in.”
All that heat from the shower drains out of me in an instant.
So much for feeling relaxed.
A hot wave of frustration curls through me, steady and rising, burning hotter than the steam still clinging to my skin.
“What do you want?” My voice comes out low, rough, sharp.
“I want to come in, damn it. Buzz me in.”
ELIJAH
I’ve been a wreck these past three days, pacing like a caged thing. I told myself to give Alex space. Time to regroup. Time to come to his senses.
He has to know how I feel about him.
What we shared… it wasn’t just casual. It was intimate. Charged with want, need—love.
I know he felt it too.
Of course, seeing Gabriel and me together was completely unexpected. Hell, that was never how I wanted him to find out.
I square my shoulders, every step down the hallway deliberate. Determined. My heartbeat thrums in my ears, louder with each step.
His door stands ajar.
A warning. Or maybe an invitation.
I push it open and nearly collide with him.
Alex stands in the doorway, arms folded tight over his chest.
A human barricade.
Clearly, he doesn’t want me to venture any further into his home.
“Why are you avoiding me?” I ask, not wasting any time. I reach for him.
He steps back.
He looks freshly showered, skin still dewy, the faint scent of soap clinging to him. But his eyes—angry, sharp—tell a different story entirely.
“I think that’s pretty obvious,” he spits out.
I take a cautious step closer. “At least let me explain. Please…”
Before I can even process what’s happening, he grabs the lapels of my shirt and slams me against the wall. My head knocks back, rattling the frame of a picture behind me. The door kicks shut with a violent thud, sealing us in.
He gets right up in my face, breath warm, trembling with rage. His hands are fists in my shirt.
“Fuck you, Elijah! You lied to me!” His voice is jagged, breaking at the edges. “I saw you with Gabriel. He kissed you. He fucking kissed you! And you think you can just explain that away?” His grip tightens. “I didn’t even know he was back from Spain, let alone shacking up with you!”
I can feel the tremor running through him—not just anger, but pain. His fingers dig deeper into my chest. His eyes are wet but blazing.
“I wanted to surprise you and—”
“Oh, you definitely surprised me. More like shocked me!”
“It’s not what you think, Alex. Gabriel and I aren’t together. We haven’t been for a really long time. He came back from Spain early because—”
“Get to the point,” he snaps. “Because so far, you’ve done nothing but waste my fucking time.”
My thoughts are scattered—racing, colliding. There’s too much I want to say. Too much I need to explain. But nothing comes out right.
“You know what, Elijah? Just leave.”
I freeze, staring at him. Held hostage in those angry eyes as they burn a path right through to my soul.
I fucking hate myself for hurting him.
“Alex—”
Tears cling to his dark lashes. “Don’t, Elijah.”
“But—”
“I said don’t!”
He crashes his mouth against mine. It’s not a kiss. It’s a storm. Furious, demanding, all heat and teeth and pain. His hands grip my shirt again, tighter this time, like he’s trying to hold himself together by holding onto me.
It takes a full second—maybe longer—for my mind to catch up to what just happened.
“Alex,” I mumble, my voice rough, low, still pressed against his lips. I can taste the salt of his tears. Feel the tremor in his jaw.
“Shut up, Elijah,” he snaps, quiet but sharp.
And then… he drops to his knees.
ALEX
I can’t get his dick into my mouth fast enough.
I bypass the button on his jeans and go straight for the zipper, speed-zipping it down and pulling out his cock.
Christ, he has a gorgeous one.
Long and girthy.
I swipe my tongue across it before wrapping my lips around him, sucking him straight into my mouth.
“Ahh, Alex. Fuuuck…”
He trembles above me as I fist him roughly, sucking on his head, lips dragging up and down his steel-hard prick.
All my aggression is spilling into him, and I don’t know how to stop it.
I’m on my knees, forehead pressed into his abdomen, dick drilled into my mouth.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t plan this.
But his presence—the sound of his voice, the fucking scent of him—ignites every part of me I’ve spent the last three days trying to kill off.
I hate him.
I miss him.
I want him.
I want to hurt him the way he hurt me.
And still, somewhere inside the wreckage, I want him to pull me into his arms and say it was all a mistake.
But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.
I feel him breathing, panting—shallow, uneven. His hands hover like he’s afraid to touch me. Like I’m glass. Or a bomb.
Maybe I’m both.
I glance up from his crotch. His eyes are closed, head thrown back against the wall.
I want him.
In my bed.
I drag my lips back up his dick and pop him out of my mouth.
His head jerks forward, lips trembling, wild eyes scanning my face.
“Get in my bed, Elijah,” I demand.
“Alex, what—”
“Get in my fucking bed.”
He hesitates, but something in my eyes tells him not to push me. He obeys, moving slowly, like someone approaching a live wire.
I follow close behind him, my footsteps heavy, my breath uneven. He stops at the edge of the bed, uncertain, glancing back at me.
“Take off your clothes,” I say.
His brows knit, confusion flashing in his eyes.
“Now, Elijah. Take off your fucking clothes. Now.”
For a second, he just stares at me—bewildered. The room is thick with silence, charged, dangerous.
Fingers trembling, he unbuttons his custom-fit, overpriced dress shirt and lets it fall to the floor. Then he unbuckles his pants and drops them, too, along with his briefs. His nakedness arouses me. Desire pours from my eyes, thick and unspoken.
His naturally dark skin is bronzed deeper by the sun, smooth in places, corded by muscles in others. Brutal. Beautiful.
His chest rises and falls, slow and uncertain. Eyes locked on mine—questioning, skeptical.
I’ve taken him off guard.
Perfect.
Just how I want him.
I lean into his body, firm and hot beneath me, and shove him down onto the mattress.
“On your stomach,” I say—sharp, sure, leaving no room for argument.
He glances back at me for a beat, something flickering in his eyes—surprise, maybe even hurt—but he complies. Wordlessly. His muscles shift beneath his skin as he rolls over, face turned away.
I tear out of my lounge pants.
“Fuuuck, Elijah.” I groan against his neck, draping my body over his and pressing my dick against his ass. I’m already sweating, and I haven’t even touched him yet.
“Up. On your knees,” I bark, voice low but laced with fire.
He hesitates, not out of defiance, but confusion. He turns his head slightly, eyes finding mine, searching for something behind the command.
My expression must be wild—I can feel it in my face, stretched tight with too much feeling and not enough air.
“Now, Elijah. Do it!”
Another pause. But then, slowly, he obeys.
He pushes up onto his forearms first, body taut with tension, then shifts his knees beneath him.
I reach under my pillow and grab the lube.
ELIJAH