Chapter 03
W e both remain silent for several seconds, staring at each other as the implications of what I suggested sink in. Lex is the first to talk, saying with a deep frown, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” No shit, Sherlock…
“It’s either that or a cab.”
“Not that .”
“A cab it is, then.”
He nods and patiently waits as I take out my phone to find a number and call. The woman explains it’ll take a while since it’s Halloween night, and when I repeat it to Lex, he disapprovingly groans.
“This is ridiculous. I can be home in ten minutes. I’m not waiting half an hour to get a cab.”
Before he can open his door, I snatch the keys from his hands, safely holding them behind my back. His initial surprise doesn’t last long as he stares at me with impatience. Shit. He’s so much bigger than me that I can’t win this—no matter how drunk he is.
“I’ll drive you,” I impulsively decide, knowing it’s my last chance to not let him take the wheel and kill himself or someone else. “You’ve done it for me in the past. Let me return the favor.”
“Are you sure you can drive?” he asks, skeptical.
“I’ve only had water. And a coke.”
He thinks about it, his brilliant mind slower because of the booze, and then agrees with a single nod. Fuck. This will be pure torture, won’t it? But it’s better than the alternative.
Stepping aside, he opens the door for me. “No, we’re taking my car so I can come back after,” I explain. It takes him a second to understand the logic of what I’m saying, but he must get it because he closes the door .
“I’m parked a little farther, less than a block,” I say, locking his car. “But I need to go back to the bar. My keys are in Tami’s clutch.”
Just as I’m about to turn on my heels, I’m reminded of the mission I gave myself. “Did you get to vote?” I ask him.
“Vote?”
“For the best costume.”
“Oh, no. I didn’t really care.”
“Good. What’s your number?”
“My number?”
“Yeah, the number you’re supposed to use to vote.”
“It was four-seven-six. Why?”
“I’m using it.”
“That’s electoral fraud.”
I almost snort at the absurdity of his concern, but realize he’s joking. “I’ll be right back,” I explain, spinning around.
It takes less than a minute in the bar to cast a vote for Tami, get my keys from her, and explain I’m taking care of someone too drunk to drive and will be back soon. Once I return to the Mercedes, I find Lex leaning against it, his muscular arms crossed over his broad torso, the Superman logo still partially visible.
Being stuck in my small Ford with a drunk Lex dressed as Superman is the worst possible combination. There’s no way I’m not relapsing at some point. He’s irresistible with his fucking glasses and all. This isn’t good. Not good at all. Damn it…
The walk down the block is eerily silent. We used to talk all the time, but now it feels like we have nothing to say to one another. When we reach my car, Lex all but glares at it. “You still have your shit car,” he notes. I roll my eyes and open the door for him. It’s a little tricky, and I don’t want him to have more things to complain about.
“I still do, yes.”
“Can that pile of rust even start?”
“It works perfectly fine. Get in.”
He diligently complies and sits in the passenger seat. I close the door behind him and walk around the car. As I enter it, I do a little prayer for it to start on the first try. It hasn’t been very cooperative lately, and I don’t want Lex to make fun of me again.
“Your car smells weird,” he points out, reaching for the scented palm trees hanging under my rearview mirror. “You need more trees.”
“I tried. It doesn’t work.”
I grimace as I take my phone out of my bathrobe’s pocket. I should have listened to Tami and dressed up as something more feminine and alluring. Anything would be better than this for my first real moment with Lex since the breakup .
Once my phone is in its slot on the dashboard, I put my seatbelt on and tell Lex to do the same. Because there might be a God after all, my car starts on the first try.
To my great surprise, Lex gives the dashboard a little graze—as if he were petting a dog. “Good car,” he praises.
This time, I can’t help but laugh as I look at him, incredulous.
“What?”
“I can’t believe you tried to convince me you were sober enough to drive,” I explain.
“I haven’t drinked that much.” He hesitates, frowning. “Drunk?” he tries next. “Drinken. Drank.”
“That’s the one,” I quip with a smile I can’t contain.
I’m still grinning as I drive us out of the parking spot. We’re silent for a few minutes as I make my way through the animated streets of Seattle.
“You’re a slow driver,” he notes after a while.
“If I speed up too fast, the car will stall.”
“It’s a rolling coffin at this point. Why don’t you buy a new one?”
“I’ll buy another one when this one stops working.”
He mumbles his disapproval, but I can’t make it out. After a few seconds, he suggests, “Maybe I should get you a company car or something.”
I frown, keeping my eyes on the road, uncertain what to make of that. He sounds concerned, involved—like he has a say in my life. But he doesn’t. Not anymore. He’s so out of touch, so oblivious to how much I need him to keep his distance, that it almost pisses me off. I have to keep my guard up. I can’t afford to let my heart shatter any more than it already has.
“What you should do, Lex, is remember that you broke up with me. So, what I drive is none of your concern,” I explain, not hiding my sourness.
My words are met with silence. Maybe I was too harsh, but he needed the reality check.
“I deserved that,” he admits after a moment, his gaze fixed on the city outside.
Great. Good job, Andy. Mood officially ruined.
The quiet that follows is suffocating, stretching all the way to his place. But no matter how awkward it is, I know I did the right thing. And by Monday, I have no doubt he’ll be back to his cold, distant self, like tonight never happened.
And maybe that’s for the best.
The ten-minute ride feels like an hour, so when I finally double-park in front of his building, the relief is instant. But as much as I’d like to leave it as that, a thought gnaws at me. This moment, right here—this uneasy, quiet truce—could be the start of something resembling a functional working relationship. And snapping at him earlier? Not exactly the best way to make that happen.
Lex unbuckles his seat belt but doesn’t move to get out. I hesitate, then kill the engine. The street is empty. No passing cars, no pedestrians. Just me and him. And I feel it—how aware I am of his presence, of the weight of everything unsaid between us.
Okay, I tell myself, let’s not make Monday worse than it has to be. Let’s at least end tonight on a good note. With a forced smile on my lips, I turn to him. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I didn’t mean to. I just… I need more time.”
His gray, intense eyes meet mine, his glasses now folded in his chest pocket. He processes my words, his gaze gliding over my features, his focus fleeting.
“It was my fault. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
There. This is good, isn’t it? We’re both being the bigger person, both sorry.
“I thought it would be easier,” he lets out next, taking me by surprise.
“What would be easier?”
He either doesn’t know what to answer, or he doesn’t know if he should say it.
What we shared, the bond we had… Not everyone gets to experience such passion, regardless of how ephemeral it was. Our souls collided with burning ferocity and flew to great heights. That only made the fall more brutal, the crash leaving nothing to salvage.
But the sadness in Lex’s eyes leads me to believe maybe I was wrong. Perhaps not all is lost, and there is something left. I can’t help it. Hope slowly awakens inside me. Maybe he’s having a hard time, too. He doesn’t love me, but it can still hurt. At least a little.
“What did you think would be easier, Lex?”
I can see how conflicted he is, his internal turmoil tearing him up inside. It’s as if he can’t answer, as if he doesn’t know how to.
He surprises me by bringing his hand to my face, and the shock is so great that I don’t move. The tips of his fingers softly graze my cheek, his eyes gliding over my confused expression. His tenderness hits me hard, my heart suddenly hammering a chaotic beat behind my ribs, a swarm of butterflies blooming low in my stomach.
I’ve been craving scraps of his affection, even the tiniest bit of it. I’ve longed for anything that could prove I didn’t imagine it all, that we did share something real. Something special .
Now that it’s happening, I don’t know what to do, how to react, or what to think of it. This can’t be good. He’ll regret it in the morning. I’m sure of it. Shit, I’ll regret all of this in the morning.
I open my mouth to say something and put an end to it, but he speaks before I can. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he professes, his tortured tone wrecking me even further. The protest I’m about to utter gets caught in my throat as his hand brushes my hair away, tucking it behind my ear.
He can’t say those things to me and ruin all the hard work I’ve done to get over him. But he just did. And I’m so fucking weak, so fucking miserable, I don’t even care. I’m a wreck, wearing a robe and runny makeup from this morning, and my hair is having a bad day. But he thinks I’m so fucking beautiful .
I’m still swallowing that information when his hand slides to my neck, and he unexpectedly bends toward me, pulling me to him.
My eyes widen with stupor, and my mind goes blank. I want this with everything I have. I want to feel his lips on mine one last time. Some inner strength surges from God knows where, and I twist my face away, denying him. His lips meet my cheek instead, and my insides melt at the simple contact. That’s enough to turn me into a useless pile of mush, shattering my will to fight him and keep my distance.
His lips glide down my throat, the warmth of his breath like fire on my skin. With one hand holding me firmly in place, he drops open-mouth kisses there, sampling me with his wet, greedy tongue. Intense shivers spread through my entire body. I forgot how intense everything is with him, how perfect it feels to be in his embrace.
An embarrassing moan creeps up my throat as I press my knees together in a desperate attempt to muffle the need growing in my core. Shit, I want him. I want him so badly it’s uncomfortable, my clit pulsing.
I stay right there in his hold, so needy I even tilt my head to the side to give him better access. The aftermath is the last thing on my mind as I clutch his nape to keep him there, to encourage him to keep going. He licks the sweet spot where my jaw, neck, and ear meet, getting another moan out of me. I tremble when he nibbles the lobe of my ear, making me so fucking wet I’m almost embarrassed.
As if he read my mind, his hand lets go of my waist and settles high on my thigh. “Are you wet for me, Andrea?” His low, hoarse voice makes me lose my mind even further.
I am. I so fucking am, and he barely did anything. He licks a fiery path along a tendon on my throat, and my insides clench around emptiness. Losing whatever restraint I have left, I spread my legs and bring his hand right where I need him, feeling like I’ll burst if he doesn’t do something. He complies with eagerness, his fingers knowing precisely what to do to drive me mad.
“Aah… Lex…” I whimper as he presses a precise finger over the seam of my shorts, right over my aching clit.
He moves back and stares at my parted lips, his pupils expanding until his irises are almost black. My cheeks burn, and I know my face is red, my eyes glistening with want, my expression one of pure lust. His grip on my neck changes, his hand wrapping around my throat instead. Fuck, how I’ve missed this dominant side of him.
Keeping his eyes on my flushed face, he removes his hand from between my legs, and I whine in disapproval. Before I can beg him to put it back, he slips it under the elastic band of my shorts and makes his way under the cotton of my panties, the tips of his fingers grazing the curls there. They lower down to my pussy, and I witness the delight in his eyes when he sees exactly how much I want him.
“Always so fucking wet for me,” he grunts.
With two fingers, he gathers some of my arousal and then draws maddening circles over my clit. I let out a breathy moan and shiver from head to toe. Already, I know he’ll make me come in under a minute.
It’s almost as if I forgot how amazingly well he knows my body. Like the most gifted musician with his instrument of predilection, he knows precisely what string to pull, what key to push, and what part to graze to drive me insane with pleasure. He used to be so relentless in giving and taking so much more than I thought I could handle. Everything in me longs to find that utter bliss again.
“I’ve missed this,” he tells me, not stopping his torturous ministrations. His hold on my throat tightens to bring me closer to his face, his mouth an inch away from mine. I can smell whatever he drank at the bar, and I’m terribly tempted to taste it. “I’ve missed the sounds you make when I touch you, how your tight cunt wraps around my cock, how fucking easy it is to make you come…”
His dirty words bring me even further into pleasure, and a soft cry escapes my lips. I’m so ridiculously horny, it takes me a moment to process his words. Especially since he’s back to kissing and nibbling at my throat.
Sex.
He misses the sex.
He misses fucking me.
It isn’t enough. I deserve more than that. More than sex.
I never doubted our sexual harmony. Not even in the darkest times. I’ll never meet another man like him, and he told me himself I was his best. We were basically Olympians at that .
But it isn’t enough. I missed all of him, not just the sex. I missed being with him, waking up by his side, making him laugh…
The realization that all he wants from me is sex sobers me up at once. The high I was on moments ago is gone, leaving nothing but regret in its wake.
How the hell did I let this happen? There’s no way I’ll allow myself to relapse and get back to four weeks ago, to being an inconsolable mess.
“Lex,” I start, my voice uneven. It’s hard to form sentences with his fingers still actively working me up to a mind-blowing orgasm. Fuck, he’s so good at this…
I grab both his hands and tug at them. “Stop,” I demand, my voice firmer. “We can’t do this.”
It takes him less than a second to react despite his drunk state. His hand whips out of my underwear while the other frees my neck, and he jerks back, his expression a mix of panic and shock. We stay unmoving, the lustful mood shifting to shame and embarrassment. My heavy breaths fill the silence, and I wonder if he can also hear my heartbeat. The need between my legs is almost painful. My climax was so, so close.
He’s the one who breaks through the awkwardness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. I’m not good at holding my liquor.”
There it is, the painful truth.
“It’s fine,” I lie. “We got carried away. It happens.” I need to believe those painful words, or I’ll never get over tonight.
He turns to me with furrowed brows, hesitant. “I’m sorry, Andrea.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Just… get out.”
I stare ahead and start counting the seconds to distract myself. He grabs the handle on two, opens the door on five, gets out by eight, and shuts the door on nine without another word or look. I peer at his retreating silhouette until he disappears behind the heavy glass doors. Then, I press my forehead on the steering wheel with a long sigh. I’m so fucking pathetic. I never should have let him do that.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I scold myself.
I have to get home and shower to erase all traces of Lex. And I have to make that need between my legs go away. Having an objective gives me the will to start the car and drive away.
I have to fuck the lust out of my system and remind myself I don’t need Lex.
And for that, I need Jensen.
“ A h, fuck,” I moan.
I come hard, my soft cries of ecstasy resonating in the narrow stall, the soft buzzing of Jensen and the water running not enough to cover any of it.
Wave after wave roams my body, making me quiver as whimpers follow the rhythm of my rapid breathing. I push my climax until it becomes too much. I don’t want it to stop. I want to remain in this high forever. It’s the only time I don’t feel like shit.
But I eventually have to give up, pulling out the vibrator as I open my eyes. I remain unmoving for a few seconds, waiting for my body to return to normal with the vibrating toy in my hand. As I come down from my orgasm, my entire mood comes down with it.
It’s always the same thing. For a few minutes, I allow myself to think of him because it’s my way to cope. It probably isn’t healthy, but I need this. I need to pretend for a moment that he’s still mine. And it feels good. So fucking good.
But then I feel terrible because it’s just my pathetic way of being in denial. I shouldn’t use Lex like this. I should go back to porn and forget about him, about us. But nothing else gets me off, and I’m not denying myself those small moments of pleasure.
If only I didn’t feel so fucking dirty and miserable afterward…
As if on autopilot, I finish my shower, brush my teeth, and return to my bedroom. I warned Tami that I was heading home but would come back if she couldn’t find a ride. Still wrapped in my towel, I check my phone on the nightstand.
Tamtam
It’s all good. Oli’s driving me back since it’s on his way. I hope you’re ok, bestie.
Me
Yeah, I was just tired. Enjoy the rest of your evening!
Wearing whatever I could find first for the night, I slip under my cold covers, still feeling like shit. I stare at the ceiling for a moment, asking myself a thousand questions.
What if I didn’t stop Lex?
What if I had let him finish what he started? What if I had gone up to his apartment to continue? Maybe, just maybe, it would have restarted our passionate affair. Maybe he would have fallen in love with me after a few weeks. Maybe we could have been happy together.
Shit, I’m relapsing so fucking hard.
I grab my phone and open my conversation with Lex. For what feels like the thousandth time, I scroll up to look at the three pictures I sent him. The ones I took while we were trying to watch The Fellowship of the Ring .
I impulsively deleted them from my phone a few weeks ago, as if it could help erase my feelings for him. But they’re the only pictures that exist of us, so I regretted it pretty much immediately. Thankfully, they are still in this conversation, but I’m not downloading them because it’s… too much.
I look at us, at how happy we seem. Well, Lex is confused as hell in one of them, but it only adds to their authenticity. His smile is so genuine in the one where I kissed him on the cheek. It always gets to me.
My heart tightens in my chest, and a lump forms in my throat. Shit, no. I won’t cry again.
I’m about to lock the screen when typing bubbles pop up at the bottom. Shit! Fuck! Damnit! He’s typing. My heart races at the thought. I worry I accidentally sent something, so I carefully scroll to the bottom. But no, there’s nothing. The last messages are still from when he tried to make me answer my phone after the Oliver incident.
What is he typing? Will he apologize again? Is he going to say he misses more than the sex?
I wait, so focused I’m not even breathing. The bubbles disappear, but no message comes in, and my heart clenches. Was it a glitch?
They return, and I’m honestly unsure how to feel about it. They only last for a moment before disappearing again.
Seconds stretch as I wait for them to come back. Then, an entire minute. And another. After a while, I force myself to accept that if he was actually about to send something, he changed his mind. I really need to stop getting my hopes up. I won’t get him back—unless I’m down for slex and he’s drunk.
A tear rolls down my temple before I even know I’m crying. Shit, I’m such a mess.
I angrily return the phone to my nightstand and twist around, wondering how much of this I can take before I go completely insane.
Probably not that much.