Chapter 34 #2
The sound of running water behind the door only makes my heart pound harder. Knowing he’s in there, just on the other side, so close and yet completely unreachable, unspoken, unreadable…
This is the version of Alex I don’t understand.
I replay the look in his eyes over and over.
That intensity. That silence. The subtle longing I saw in them.
I wish I could crawl inside his head, pull apart the knots and shadows, and figure out what the hell he’s feeling.
He said he’s not mad at me—but I don’t know.
It feels like he is. Or maybe he’s mad at himself. Or the world. Or everything.
The water cuts off, and I hold my breath. Waiting for footsteps. The creak of the door. Anything.
But the silence stretches.
And stretches.
I rake a hand through my hair, frustration building like a scream stuck in my throat. My fingers tremble as I lift them to knock.
“Alex?” My voice comes out softer than I intend, too thin and too loud in the stillness. I swallow. “Are you… Are you done yet?”
Nothing.
My chest tightens.
“I need to talk to you,” I say, the words catching, uncertain. “Please.”
The silence lingers for one heartbeat. Two.
Then, finally—his voice, muffled but steady:
“Come in, Lucas.”
My heart jolts, and I open the bathroom door with shaky hands and step inside.
He’s still inside the massive glass stall, but he’s facing away from me.
And my breath catches the moment I see him, he’s naked, water trails down the broad stretch of his back, and muscles shift subtly beneath skin as he moves.
His dark hair is plastered to the nape of his neck.
His powerful shoulders rise and fall in a slow, steady rhythm that contrasts with the wild thundering in my chest.
I drag my gaze upward, forcing myself to focus on the safe places: his shoulders, his back, the sharp dip of his waist. Avoiding—barely—his perfectly sculpted ass that has my face heating up like a furnace.
fuck, I’ve seen him like this before, but it still gets to me.
Lord, have mercy. Am I seriously checking him out right now?
After everything?
He turns his head slightly, just enough to catch me in his periphery.
And then his eyes find mine.
We don’t speak.
We just look.
And that look—steady, unreadable, burning, hits me so hard I almost stumble back.
It’s like he’s trying to read me, strip me down without touching me.
Like he wants to say something, but can’t.
Then, softly, almost like a growl—
“Come here.”
I bite my lip. The command ripples through me like a shiver, but my feet stay planted.
“I already showered…” I whisper, voice barely audible
Alex tilts his head, eyes still on me. He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to. That look is answer enough.
He’s not asking. He’s waiting.
I exhale, hands twitching at the hem of the shirt I’m wearing, ready to unbutton it.
But his voice stops me.
“Don’t take it off, Lucas,” he says firmly
His eyes never leave mine.
“Just get in here.”
So I do.
My legs feel unsteady as I step forward, one breath at a time, pushing past the glass door into the shower. The steam curls around us like a veil, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
Alex shifts slightly, positioning himself so that the water pours down his back, angled just enough that it doesn’t hit my face, hair, and hearing aids.
The water hits my chest, warm and steady, soaking through the cotton of his shirt that clings to my skin, heavy now, almost suffocating, but not in a bad way. It feels like him. Like I’m wrapped in him.
But he still hasn’t touched me, and that’s what’s unraveling me the most.
His gaze drops to the soaked shirt clinging to my frame. To my lips. Then they rise again, slow and unhurried, like he’s drinking in the sight of me but trying so hard not to give in.
When our eyes meet again, the tension cracks something deep inside me.
“I wasn’t scared of you,” I whisper, voice fragile, but certain. “Not really. It was the dream. Not you. Never you.”
He says nothing. Just watches me silently.
And the silence is loud.
“Say something to me, Alex. Please.”
His jaw clenches, but his eyes soften a bit. Then, finally, voice low and tight,
“I need to know what they are.”
I freeze.
He takes a step closer, water running in rivulets down his chest.
“Those dreams. They’re not just dreams, are they?” His voice is quieter now. “They’re memories. Something happened to you.” He swallows. “What was it?”
My throat bobs, and I look away.
The words are there. Caged. Raw. But I can’t let them out yet. Not like this.
Not here.
Not when his eyes have finally softened.
Not when the air between us feels like a fragile thread holding something sacred.
I know I’ll tell him. I want to tell him.
But not tonight.
Because if I let the pain spill now, it’ll drown the part of me that just wants to feel him, this version of him. The one who’s trying so hard to stay still, to hold himself back, like he thinks touching me will break me.
But I don’t want that kind of Alex.
I don’t want the version of him that hesitates.
Not with me.
I want his hands on my skin. I want to feel his warmth, his strength—not pity, not distance. I want to show him I’m not made of glass.
So I look back up at him, chest rising with the weight of everything I can’t say yet.
I just want him.
All of him.
And I need him to see that, not just in words, but in the way I reach for him, in the way my hands rise slowly, trembling as I cup his jaw. His skin is warm beneath my palms, slick with water, and I tilt my face up to him—eyes wide, heart cracked open.
I want him to see it.
The trust.
The ache.
The love.
“I want to tell you so badly,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I do. But not now… not tonight.”
His eyes don’t move, but I feel the tension ripple through him. His jaw tightens beneath my touch. I press my thumbs softly against it, like I can soothe the storm I know is brewing just beneath his skin.
“I want to tell you when my heart is ready,” I continue, barely breathing. “When I know I can say it without running… without being afraid of how you’ll look at me after.”
His chest rises hard, controlled. I can see him holding it in—questions, fears, the darkness he always tries to protect me from. But he hasn’t said a word. Not yet.
“Please, Alex,” I murmur, my hands sliding gently up into his damp hair, fingers curling into it, holding on like I’m afraid he might disappear again. “Please, just give me this moment.”
My voice trembles. “Just this one… where you don’t look at me like I’m broken. Where you don’t hold back from touching me like you’re afraid you’ll make it worse.”
His throat bobs. His hands clench at his sides like it’s taking everything in him not to reach for me. Not to fall into me.
“I’ll never flinch from you again,” I whisper. “I’ll never look at you like you’re something to fear. Because you’re not, Alex. You’re not.”
His breath shudders. And I feel it, something in him loosening, unraveling. But still, he doesn’t speak. And maybe that’s why the next word slips from my mouth before I can stop it.
“Please, baby.”
It’s soft. Intimate. Honest.
But I mean it.
Because he is mine. Even if it took me too long to admit it. Even if I’m still learning how to hold this—us—without fear.
His eyes flicker at the word. Something shifts. The hardness in his face cracks, just slightly. His gaze softens, and his breath stutters like the sound of my voice just reached some part of him he wasn’t ready for.
Maybe it was the plea.
Maybe it was the way I said baby.
Maybe it’s the way I’m still standing here, soaked and shaking, but choosing him.
Then his hand lifts slowly, deliberately, and he finally cups my face, his thumb grazing my cheek, then trailing gently down to my jaw.
I almost choke on the breath I’ve been holding.
His other hand finds my waist, fingers spreading over the soaked fabric of the shirt clinging to my skin. His grip is firm and Possessive. But there’s no force in it. Just want. Just need.
“All of this…” he says, voice rasping low and wrecked, almost like he’s confessing a crime—“…is new to me.”
His eyes flick to mine. I can see it there, the war behind them. The vulnerability is barely hidden beneath all that steel.
“I’ve never cared about anyone like this. Never let anyone in the way I’ve let you in.” His voice hitches, rough and raw. “You ruin me, Lucas. You fucking undo me.”
I swallow hard, heartbeat stuttering.
“When you’re not near me, when you pull away…” his jaw clenches, like the words hurt, “It cuts. And I don’t even know why it hurts like that. Just that it does, it makes everything inside me go loud. Violent.”
My eyes flutter shut for a second. The heat of his breath, the desperation in his words, it’s all too much. And not enough.
“You fuck with my head,” he murmurs, pressing me even closer until I feel him, all of him, against me. His half-hard cock presses into me, and my breath shudders, sharp and shaky.
“Don’t pull away from me again,” he says, voice rough with emotion but still laced with something soft. “Don’t run from me, Lucas. Not when it hurts. Not when you’re scared. Whatever it is that you’re carrying, lay it on me. I’ll take it. I want it.”
His hand curls at the back of my neck, not possessive this time, but pleading.
“Let me be the one you come to. Let me fight the demons with you. Let me be your first thought, not your last resort. Give me everything.”
I blink, eyes stinging, heart aching from how much I feel him.
And for the first time tonight, I know he’s not resisting me anymore.
He’s begging me to stay.
I don’t even know if I’m breathing.
Because everything he just said—it sinks deep. Past bone, past skin, past every wall I’ve spent years building to protect myself.
Something inside me cracks wide open.
My fingers tighten on his shoulders, my body trembles, not from fear but from everything I’m holding in.