Chapter 36 Stevie
Stevie
It’s still dark outside the window. The royal-blue drapes are cracked wide open, a perfect match to the predawn sky.
Birdsong and early-morning traffic have my eyelids twitching with wakefulness as I slowly kick the comforter off my body with a drowsy yawn.
Stretching, I roll over and face the opposite side of the bed.
Empty.
And that empty space is a bucket of ice water on my memories, shocking them back to life.
I whip up on my elbows, my heart tossed onto a Tilt-A-Whirl. His scent is all around me: a trace of yesterday’s shampoo trapped in my pillowcase, earthy cologne branded on the sheets, and, most notably, remnants of last night’s piano escapades still lingering on my skin.
Oh my God.
My pulse thrums, thighs squeeze. There’s an ache between my legs.
A reminder. It’s as delicious as it is terrifying as I pick sections of hair off my face and swing my legs over the side of the bed.
I take a moment to race into the bathroom to clean myself up, change into comfy clothes, and brush my teeth before heading down the staircase.
Lex is seated at the island with a mug of coffee.
I stop short of the kitchen, a wave of mismatched emotions battling for dominance. The huge wall clock tells me it’s a little after five a.m., and Lex’s rigid posture and tense shoulders tell me it’s going to be a long, confusing day.
Wringing my hands together in front of me, I struggle to find my voice. “Good morning.”
He doesn’t look at me right away, staring straight ahead as he takes a sip of coffee. “Hey. Made you a cup.”
My eyes pan over to the glossy black mug near the espresso maker.
“Thank you.” Forcing my legs into action, I wind around the island and reach for it, sparing him a quick glance now that I can see his face.
I lean back against the counter and palm the room-temperature mug.
He’s been awake for a while. “How did you sleep?”
Dumb.
The ordinary question slips out, sounding absurd under the current circumstances.
We had sex last night.
Volatile, passionate, molecule-altering sex. On his grand piano.
At this time yesterday, Lex was a virgin.
And now he’s not.
Lex finally lifts his eyes to mine as we gaze at each other across the big center island, a continent between us. “Slept fine.”
My voice squeaks like a timid mouse. “Great.” I force down a gulp of coffee, nearly choking as it struggles down my throat. “Um, we should probably…talk.”
“Yeah.” He swallows. “Probably should.”
We stare.
I don’t know if I want to burst into tears, laugh maniacally, or run into his arms naked. All three of those things at once would definitely distract from the conversation I don’t know how to have.
Instead, we both speak at the same time.
“Are you okay?”
“Are you on the pill?”
My cheeks heat. Memories ambush me: grating piano keys, fusing with moans. Skin slapping together. The way he turned gentle, cradling my cheek in a soft hand while his tongue made love to my mouth, pulling every feeling out of me.
We were impulsive.
Irresponsible.
So beautiful it hurts.
I study him glowing underneath the chandelier, his image distorting as tears prick my eyes. My lips tremble through a nod. “Yes. I’m on the pill. And…I’m clear too. You don’t need to worry about that. I’ve been tested.”
Relief loosens his shoulders, easing the lines of tension on his brow as he stands from the stool and slides his mug away.
“Okay.” The planes of his chest and thick biceps stretch the material of a white T-shirt when he presses forward on the island, a pair of dark-wash jeans slung low on his hips.
“And I’m fine, Nicks,” he says, answering my question.
I discard the coffee mug, my hands not qualified to hold anything as they quiver with raw nerves and crippling anxiety. “Okay…good. That’s good.”
I’ve never had a morning-after conversation before. Not really. My first time was with Jameson, and we’d already been dating for three months before we slept together. There was nothing to discuss aside from what we wanted to have for breakfast. “Should I get bagels?”
Slowly, Lex raises his chin. “Bagels?”
“Sure. You know…or bialys. They’re delicious. There’s that deli down the street that has all the different homemade cream cheeses: maple and pecan, jalapeno and cilantro, and there’s even a dill pickle—”
“Nicks.”
My eyes round, glazed and terrified. “Yes?”
He rubs a hand down his face, bracketing his jaw as he releases a long sigh. “I’m going to lose my fucking mind if you don’t tell me what you’re thinking.”
Chest seizing, I wring my hands together in front of me, sweat dappling my hairline. He’s gazing at me with the weight of a trillion anchors trying to pull us under.
I let out a breath and cautiously make my way around the island, approaching him, my bare feet thudding across the porcelain tile.
I wet my lips. “What happened between us?” I whisper, desperate to know what he’s thinking too.
The lines are so smudged and blurred, there’s no going back to what this was.
The facade has crumbled, the curtains wrenched wide open.
He drops his arm at his side. “You know what happened,” he says, another hard swallow working his throat. “The question is can you live with it?”
I don’t know how to answer that.
My eyes trail his spacious condo, so lifeless and bare.
The city sparkles outside the window, already alive with early-morning commuters and a lifestyle I’m not certain I want anymore.
Then I glance back at Lex. The man who gave himself to me yesterday, all while I had one foot out the door of his heart.
I thought it was over, that there was no coming back from the crushing disappointment I’d felt at that dinner table. That moment had been the trigger, the spark, igniting all the thoughts and feelings I’d suppressed since he walked out of my life four years ago.
But now…
“I think what happened was inevitable,” I reply, trying to make sense of my upside-down mind. “We have history together, and we were pretending to date while living under the same roof. It was bound to happen eventually.”
He studies me, unpacking every word. “So you’re saying it was just sex.”
“No.” My eyes pop. “We both know it was more than that. I just don’t know where we’re supposed to go from here.” I inhale a stuttered breath. “Do you?”
A frown mars his brows. He takes a step toward me, his eyes giving me a brief once-over. “I don’t know, Stevie. One minute, you’re saying I’m using you, and you’re looking at me like you absolutely hate me, then the next minute, I’m buried deep inside you.”
“I don’t hate you.” Erotic memories heat back to life, painting electrifying pictures in my brain. My face burns. “It’s…messy.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Little bit.”
“What do you want?”
He blows out a breath. “I don’t fucking know.
I have no experience with any of this. You’re the first person I’ve ever…
” The words evaporate, his face conflicted.
“This career…you. I don’t know how to juggle both.
I don’t know how to protect you, how to keep you safe from my mother, the tabloids, the social media witch hunts, and all the things that will spin you inside out and turn you into someone new.
Someone you don’t even recognize anymore. ”
Webs of heat tangle inside me.
I stare at him, not knowing what to say.
“I’ve spent years building walls around myself, keeping everything out, because if I don’t, I’m done. Fucking finished.” His voice cracks. “But then you…”
“Lex.” I reach for him. Taking both of his hands, I draw him toward me until we’re chest to chest. My hands lift, cupping his cheeks, forcing his eyes on mine.
“Lex, look at me. Please. I know what this is doing to you, and I never wanted that. I never wanted you to hurt.” I graze my thumbs against his skin.
“I’m sorry for the things I said last night.
That’s not how it should have happened. I’m trying to understand this life you live, why you’re so—”
“Fucked up.”
“No.” I pull his forehead against mine and murmur back, “Sad.”
His eyes fall closed, our foreheads drawn, as he battles all the things I don’t know how to help him overcome. But the contact is brief, painfully short, and Lex untangles himself from me with a hopeless exhale.
He backs away, stabbing a hand through his hair. “Maybe we should take some time to think about this.”
I choke out a shaky breath. “About what specifically?”
“The future. The next step. Emotions were high, you were pissed off at me, and everything reached a boiling point.”
“Was that…um…” Heart pounding, I flick a piece of hair out of my eyes and brave his stare. “Was that something you wanted? You asked about me, but I want to make sure I didn’t cross any boundaries or push your limits or make you feel—”
“Of course I wanted it,” he cuts me off, voice firm. “You had to have known I did.”
“It’s just, with your history…I want to be sure. I need you to feel safe with me.”
“That’s never been an issue, Nicks.”
I nod, relieved. “Is it something you want to do…again?”
His jaw ticks, eyes dark and gleaming, attention locked on my face. “I’d be lying if I said no.”
My thighs clench.
I imagine him taking me again, in his bed, worshiping me, cool sheets coiled around sticky limbs, his face twisted with pleasure as my thighs cling to thrusting hips and he groans his release into my ear.
It feels so simple.
I have feelings for him. Strong feelings.
Those feelings never went away, not ever, and now he’s so close, standing right in front of me, and I can’t piece together any words to promise him that we will be okay.
All I can muster is “So you don’t regret it?
” Fire burns a hole through the center of my chest. “You don’t regret what happened? ”