Chapter 7
7
A s Alex pulled out of the parking lot, Leslie studied him, mulling over his implied admission that there was a side of himself he kept hidden from others. She’d always suspected that simply because Alex was such an enigma—a potent blend of allure and danger, capable of setting her senses on fire with a single look. She loved his duality and how he brought out her own. He was something more than a protector, something more thrilling, more perilous, and as such he called to both sides of her – the one that craved safety but also the one that longed for excitement, adventure, maybe even danger.
In a way, Alex was constantly struggling to be good and to lock down his darker self, whereas Leslie…she was tired of being the consummate good girl and longed to draw out the darker sides of them both—to see how they played off one another. But seeing that side of Alex was rare—she’d been privy to it only a handful of times when he lost control, either because of passion or anger, like when he’d gone after David.
But sitting next to him now, Alex couldn’t quite hide the dangerous quality that called to her. Their proximity allowed her to take in the barely concealed tension coiled in his muscles, the hard set of his jaw, the quiet intensity burning in his eyes. It was an intimate dance of proximity and distance, keeping her both close and on edge.
When Alex braked at a light, Leslie’s gaze momentarily left him to look at where they were. Only about a mile out from her place. The thought of spending the rest of the evening alone depressed her. She was jazzed up and knew she would be for a while before she calmed down.
“Alex, do you think we could stop for a drink somewhere? I could really use a glass of wine before even attempting to go to bed.”
Was it her imagination, or did Alex’s knuckles whiten as they gripped the steering wheel when she said the word “bed.” He didn’t answer, and she realized maybe he had plans after he dropped her off.
“Never mind,” she said quickly. “I know I interrupted your night. You don’t have to babysit me.”
“Actually I do, given I just fired Elvis. But it wouldn’t be babysitting. It would be spending time with you, and I’m always happy to do that.”
When you’re not throwing yourself at me, at least.
Leslie smirked as she imagined Alex’s mental clarification.
“What?” he said.
She shook her head. “Nothing. So where to, then?”
“King George?” It was an elegant and quiet place not far from where she lived, and it would be a nice change from the noise and stimulation of the club.
Soon, they stepped into the bar. Leslie felt a sense of serenity wash over her as soft jazz music floated through the air, intermingling with the low hum of hushed conversations. The ambiance exuded sophistication, with dimly lit chandeliers casting a warm glow over the polished mahogany bar and plush leather seats.
She followed Alex as he led her to a private table tucked away in a corner, away from prying eyes. The table was adorned with a pristine white tablecloth and a single flickering candle, adding to the intimate atmosphere. The walls held framed vintage photographs and paintings that whispered tales of times long past.
After they sat, Leslie stole a glance at Alex. His expression and body said he was more relaxed now, but for Alex, relaxed wasn’t what it was for other people. He was always vigilant. Always part of him on guard. She wondered at that—how exhausting it must be—and she wanted nothing more for him than complete peace. But he was a warrior, a soldier, a guardian. She wasn’t sure complete peace would ever be his; he sacrificed his peace to provide it to others. Leslie reached out and rested her hand atop his, silently conveying her gratitude for his unwavering protection.
The waiter approached their table with a courteous smile, presenting the wine list and menus. Leslie scanned the wine selection and decided on a glass of red, hoping it would help soothe her frayed nerves after the evening's events. When the waiter turned to Alex, she was surprised to hear him order a simple club soda.
"Why club soda?" Leslie inquired, raising an eyebrow curiously. "You're off the job now, right?"
Alex leaned back slightly, his gaze softening as he met her eyes. "That's true, but you're still in my care, Leslie," he replied gently.
She nodded in understanding, appreciating his dedication and concern for her safety. "Thank you," she murmured.
With their drinks served, they clinked their glasses together in a silent toast. As they drank and sat in companionable silence, the soft jazz melodies continued to play. She wished that was enough to make her feel content, but she couldn’t completely shake what had happened that night.
What Alex had seen.
And what she’d seen.
She cleared her throat. “So, that really is your thing, huh? Sex clubs?” She spoke softly so no one else could hear.
Alex took a sip of his drink before answering. “On occasion.”
She nodded. “And the blonde? Were you…?”
Alex sighed. “Leslie, don’t.”
Right.
Feeling shut down, she sat drinking her wine in silence and when she’d drained the glass, she said, “I’m ready to go when you are.”
She turned her head to look at the pianist, avoiding Alex’s gaze. She startled when he covered her hand with his.
“I had no intention of sleeping with her, Leslie. I didn’t want her. To be honest, since Thanksgiving and well before that, you’re the only woman I want.”
She sucked in a breath. She loved hearing that. But she hated how much it confused her. He was always saying he wanted her. But he was also always saying they couldn’t be together.
“Listen,” he began.
“Alex,” she interrupted him. “I really don’t want to hear about why we can’t be together again. I’ve accepted it.”
“I’m glad one of us has. Because I’m resolved, Leslie, but that doesn’t mean I don’t struggle with it. Every damn day. But what I was going to say was, your interest in the lifestyle, is it new?”
“Oh.” Why did she suddenly feel self-conscious talking to Alex about this? Why was she suddenly feeling ashamed, the way she had when she’d been fifteen and had just watched her neighbor with her dom?
When Alex continued to look at her expectantly, she cleared her throat. “I’ve been interested in it for years,” she said. “In at least exploring the possibilities. But I never had the nerve to really seek it out before. But that’s not your problem.”
He swiped a hand across his jaw. “You really don’t think so?”
“I really don’t. David obviously wasn’t the right guy for me to explore this lifestyle with, but I’ll find someone who is.”
Alex narrowed his eyes, his features suddenly dark. “Careful, Leslie.”
Her eyes rounded with genuine surprise. “Careful of what?”
“You really think you can casually say that you’re going to explore kink with someone else, and I’m going to be fine with it?”
She stared at him slack jawed. “I don’t understand, Alex. As you just got done telling me, you want me, but your resolved not to have me. That means you have no say in who or what I do when it comes to anything I do, especially who I spend time in sex clubs with.”
“You’re trying to make me jealous, right? Did you know I was at the club? Is that why you dragged Dr. Dickhead in there with you?”
At his insulting words, Leslie frowned. “Are you serious? No, I didn’t know you were there. I wasn’t stalking you, and I wasn’t trying to make you jealous.” Anger and resentment seethed within her. “I am not doing this with you. This was a mistake. I’m leaving.”
She stood and Alex stood as well. “I’m taking you home, Leslie.”
His gaze was unwavering and she knew he meant it. “Fine,” she said. “Take me home. But don’t say another word to me, Alex. Because you just pissed me off, and I’m going to be pissed at you for a very, very long time. And just so you know. I will be going back to a sex club on my own. And before I go, I will make sure, for both our sakes, that you are nowhere to be seen.”
They spent the ride to her brownstone studio and apartment combo in silence, but Alex knew she was as keenly aware of him as he was of her. All Alex could do was remember her words about going to a sex club again and making sure he wasn’t anywhere around.
Maybe he deserved her anger.
Maybe he shouldn’t have accused her of following him to the club.
But honestly? Given the persistence and boldness she’d exhibited in trying to seduce him, he wouldn’t have been surprised. And the fact that she’d come after him so strong?
Secretly, he loved and hated it.
Loved it because it had proven how far she was willing to go to have him.
Hated it because every single time, he’d been tempted.
Suddenly, Leslie touched his arm, but only briefly before she withdrew her hand. “Now that I’ve had a chance to think about it, I’m not pissed by what you said, Alex. Let’s face it. With the way I’ve acted in the past, it would be a fair conclusion that I went to the sex club hoping you’d be there. But I’m done being an idiot. It was the sex club not you that led me there tonight.”
For a moment, that rankled, which went to show how messed up he was. He didn’t mean to, but he knew he played mind games with her. That he gave him bits of himself even as he pushed her away. It was proof positive that she was hell on his self-control. That she was, and always would be, his weakness.
If he wanted to, he could pull over, pull her to him, then shower her throat with kisses. He’d run his hand up her pretty throat then kiss the hell out of her delicious mouth and position her to straddle him. Then he’d—
Shit. No fucking fantasizing. At least not until he could get home and make good use of his fist for yet another night of jacking off to thoughts of Leslie.
“You’re not an idiot, Leslie. Don’t let me hear you talk that way about yourself again.”
Instead of giving him a sassy “or what?” she just sighed.
“So, when’s our next training session?” she asked.
Recently, Leslie had placed the winning bid for a date with Alex at a fundraising bachelor auction. They’d agreed he’d train with her for a Mud Run race. They’d only trained a few times since then, but each time he’d been impressed with Leslie’s strength, speed, and stamina, as well as how damn good she looked in athletic gear.
“I’m still sore from our last session,” he said wryly.
She laughed. “Right.”
His mouth tipped up. “I’m not kidding. You ran me into the ground, Sunshine.”
“Me? Little Miss Fashion Designer worked Alex Samuels too hard?” she playfully mocked. “What happened to Mr. Tough Guy?”
He shifted, and without realizing it, winced when his healing rib announced its presence.
“You okay? Your rib still hurts?
“I’m healing. Just takes a while.”
“I hate Pearson for so many reasons. Raping his stepdaughter, impregnating her, then kidnapping her and keeping her from her baby… He should rot in hell. I’m just so sorry you got hurt rescuing Lucy. How about we take it easy our next training session?”
“Sure,” he said, not telling her that hurt rib or not, he still trained hard every day. “You thinking treadmill?”
She grinned. “I’m thinking Zumba.”
He snorted. “Hell, no.”
Leslie laughed. “It’s a great workout! I swear! You’ll sweat like a racehorse. Plus, it’s great for balance, something you keep telling me I’ll need in the Mud Run when we’re jumping over logs and stuff.”
“Yes, you need good balance, but there’s no way anyone will ever catch me in a Zumba class.” He shot her what he hoped was a glowering look.
“I don’t know. I’m thinking how awesome it would be if you wore those tight Spandex-type mid-thigh workout shorts that fit you like a glove while you’re dancing. Don’t you just like to shake it sometimes?”
He imagined her shaking it, her tits jiggling, and almost groaned.
Then he sobered.
“Are you really going to go to another sex club?”