CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Ian should have stopped it before it happened, should have pulled back earlier, should have…
He hadn't.
He'd known better, and yet the moment Alex's mouth dropped open, Ian's brain went offline. And while a part of him saw it coming—saw Alex leaning in, putting his hands on Ian's neck, closing his eyes—the kiss still seemed inevitable and shocking at the same time.
He held back a moan, but only barely, because he'd missed it, missed Alex, so much so that his whole body ached with it, sometimes, when Ian didn't distract himself well enough.
Alex's taste was familiar, but his scent had changed, and Ian was eager to explore, eager to relearn everything about the man in his arms.
The man whose touch on Ian's neck was so careful, so soft, that it almost broke Ian in two.
And then, alarm bells rang loud and clear in his head, and Ian pulled back, creating more space between them than there had been for the last… How long had they been sitting here like this?
He couldn't tell.
The silence grew slowly but surely, and as Ian glanced at Alex, he found him flushed and staring at the floor, his arms curling against his chest once again.
To think this man was able to face tens of thousands of fans when he was up on the stage, and yet grew shy and uncertain like this—it was one of the great mysteries of Alex Reed. One that Ian had been willing to delve into, once upon a time.
But not anymore.
"I'm sorry," Alex offered quietly, still not meeting his gaze. "I shouldn't have done that."
Nothing else followed, so Ian pushed himself to say, "I get it."
At that, Alex lifted his head, and his eyes were shining once again. Not with tears, though, like earlier, but with something different, something Ian didn't even try to pinpoint. He'd tried, before, and he'd misjudged things terribly.
"Do you?" Alex asked, barely above a whisper, and Ian's body was almost trembling with how tempted he was to throw caution to the wind.
He almost never did it, preferring to stay solidly on the ground, but there had been times—
All of them had involved Alex, and all of them had ended badly, even if now Ian understood more about why that was.
The thought of Boo was like a lifeline now.
"I'm a… I'm a comfortable choice for you," Ian started slowly, wishing he didn't have to say any of this.
"I'm here now, and you finally feel safe after so many twists and turns, but that's not going to last. I'll stop being a safe option when you remember what I do for a living, and you sure as hell aren't a safe option for me.
And I want that." Whether it was even possible for him, with the life he led, Ian didn't know, but he did want it.
"I can't afford this push and pull between us. I got tired of it a long time ago."
Alex flinched at that, and Ian felt like the biggest asshole, even though he only spoke the truth. He was tired, and he could not afford another round of going back and forth. His heart wouldn't be able to bear it.
"I want stability, too." Alex's whisper pulled Ian back to the present. "Even more than before."
Ian nodded. "I know. You and Boo, you need to be safe and secure.
And I can give you that, in my capacity as a personal security specialist, for as long as you're in DC.
That's why I'm here. I promise to do my best to keep you both safe—the three of you, including your mother.
But I can't… do this." He waved a hand between them.
"I can't let myself get pulled into it again. "
Into you.
It was excruciating to watch Alex as he talked, but Ian didn't look away, even when Alex flinched again at the reminder of Ian being here on assignment, not a date.
"I'm sorry," Alex whispered, gaze roaming all over the room as he took a step back. "You have no reason to believe me, to trust me, and here I go, kissing you while you're at work, like that's… allowed." He swallowed hard. "It isn't. I know it isn't. I'm sorry."
It's okay was right there on the tip of his tongue, and still, Ian couldn't say it. Not because of the professional lines crossing, not because he felt violated—he didn't—but because he now had a taste of Alex on his lips once again, and all the work he'd done to forget him was ruined.
Ian did not look forward to restarting that all over again, even though he'd barely made any progress in the first place.
"I get it," he repeated, wanting to give Alex something—anything.
But Alex shook his head. "No," he said quietly, before clearing his throat and speaking up a bit louder. "No, I don't think you do."
Heart aching, Ian held himself still. He didn't want to argue or hear another explanation, because he knew that Alex's earnest face might do him in if Ian let it.
And he was trying very, very hard not to let it.
He might be straining some muscles in the effort not to move, actually.
A second passed, then another, and Ian felt his resolve starting to shake.
Why did he insist on denying them both what they wanted? Even though it wasn't going to last, they could still—
A quiet noise made Ian go on high alert, pushing everything back. Turning, he looked around the room in search of the source of whatever that was.
But then he heard it again, and it clicked right before Alex spoke up.
"It's Boo." He picked up the baby monitor and pressed it against his chest. "I have to go."
"Of course." Ian nodded, mostly relieved, even though he couldn't deny a hint of disappointment, too—at least to himself.
"I wish we could talk more…" Alex started, drifting off quickly, and Ian shook his head.
"I don't think that's a good idea." He took a step back, then another. "I'll do one last sweep of the space, and then I'll be heading to bed, too. Good night."
Alex opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by another whimper coming through the monitor. One glance at the screen showed Boo kicking off his blanket and wiggling in the crib.
"Good night," was what Alex said instead, right before he turned around and rushed towards the stairs.
Ian stood there, staring into space long after Alex had disappeared.
You made the right choice, Ian told himself, again and again.
He hoped he'd start to believe it at some point soon.