Chapter 21 ALEX
ALEX
I’m having another sex dream about Theo.
I can feel him behind me, one hand splayed across my ribs and the other gripping my stomach, his lips moving slowly up my neck. I lean into his touch, and his hard cock twitches between my thighs as I push my hips back into his.
I wish he’d just fuck me already. These dreams are excruciating.
I whine a little, moving against him, so wet that he slides against me easily. I tilt my hips back until the head of his cock notches into my entrance. His arms tighten around me and his hips jerk forward, and I cry out as he shoves inside of me fully.
I realize I’m not dreaming roughly at the same time that he fully wakes up.
We both freeze, and Theo’s body shakes as he tries to restrain himself. I push my hips back into him, trying to get him to break, and he makes a strangled sound as he pulls out of me.
“God fucking dammit,” he chokes out as he shoves away from me and rolls out of bed, walking quickly into the bathroom. I curl up against the headboard and listen to him masturbate, furious and frustrated and embarrassed.
I hate that I want him this badly.
When he comes back out of the bathroom, he pulls on his sweats, which I swear he was wearing when we went to sleep, and I can’t help but notice how good they look slung low on his hips.
“For the last time, you need to fucking ask for it,” he snaps, crossing his arms, and I look back up at his face. His jaw is set, and he looks pissed. “I’m getting really fucking tired of you pushing me like this.”
“You were the one who pushed, actually,” I snap back.
He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t totally awake.” He looks at me for a second and runs his hands over his face, pushing his hands back into his hair. “Also, for future reference, I love waking up like that,” he mutters.
“I don’t know why you didn’t keep going, then.” He exhales hard and shoots me an irritated look.
“I can’t believe I have to explain to you that you need to fucking participate in our relationship. Judging from this morning, I can tell you want to participate,” he teases, although his voice has a frustrated edge to it.
“Not really.”
“You’re not even trying to lie, sweetie,” he teases.
I cross my arms and change the subject. “What bullshit do you have planned for today?”
“That depends. What do you want to do today?” he asks, flashing me a crooked grin. I huff angrily and get out of bed, trying hard to avoid him in the small space of my bedroom.
“I have plans today.”
He frowns. “We haven’t made plans yet.”
“I have plans, alone.”
“No, you don’t. There’s nothing in your planner, or your phone, or your work calendar.” Fucking stalker.
“I had plans to spend the day by myself.”
“That’s nice,” he says, and I can tell from his passive-aggressive tone that it’s not going to happen. I storm past him into the bathroom and shut the door, pouring myself a bath. I groan when I see the little tray laid across the bathtub, full of bath salts and body oil and scrubs.
This is ridiculous.
Recently, Theo has been pulling the gifts out from under my bed and trying to put them away.
No matter how many times I put them back under the bed, they reappear.
I look down at the body oil again, feeling a mix of emotions.
Theo has bought me everything Jo Malone makes in my favorite scent, which is obscenely over the top.
As much as I hate to admit it, Theo’s really good at giving gifts.
I don’t trust gifts.
Danny gave me a lot of gifts, usually as apologies for losing his temper or hurting me, but the gifts Danny gave me were things he liked.
Tight, short dresses. Big, showy diamond jewelry.
Bags with large designer labels visible.
Cute, fruity perfumes. Frilly, silky lingerie in pale colors.
He liked me to look sexy and show off our money - my money, my parents’ money, money he spent freely because it was our money in his mind - and he expected that I would love everything, fawn over him for it, show gratitude, act like it fixed everything.
Gifts meant something bad had happened.
Theo’s bought me things I’ve shown a genuine interest in, at least, but he only found out what I like from stalking me. It feels too familiar, like an apology for the stalking.
I stare at the body oil in my hand, conflicted. I want it, but I can’t accept anything from him. If I do, it’s like I’m accepting the apology and buying into his delusion. I set the body oil back on the tray and steel myself for the day.
Things between us have been tense, and they’re not getting any easier.
When I walk into the bedroom, the bed is made, and there’s a cup of hot coffee on my dresser. I ignore it, turning to my closet and getting dressed quickly before walking into the living room. Theo’s dressed in jeans and a hunter green button-down, looking at something on his phone, sipping coffee.
I hate myself for wanting to crawl into his lap.
“Is there any way to get you to leave me alone?”
He gives me an exasperated look. “We can do whatever you want, but we need to spend more time together. We’re still adjusting to each other. Last weekend was nice, right?” He flashes me a small, hopeful smile, and I cross my arms and look down at my feet.
Last weekend was horrible. I let my guard down for one fucking second, and he doubled down on his delusion.
“Fine. I want to go to Portland, but I want it to go differently than last time.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he says, his voice affectionate. It pisses me off for some reason, and I look up at him, my temper settling into defiance.
“I want to choose the restaurants.”
“Of course.”
“I don’t want you to buy me gifts. I don’t like them.”
He frowns. “You don’t like the gifts I got you, or you don’t like receiving gifts?”
“I don’t like getting gifts.”
He nods, looking disappointed. “Can I ask why?”
“No.” He’s obviously irritated but gives me a polite smile.
“Okay,” he says slowly, drawing out the vowel. “Anything else?”
“I don’t want you to pay for me.”
He cringes slightly, shaking his head. “I was raised kind of old school, so that one’s off the table. It’s nothing against you, but I’m pretty sure my grandfather would come back from the dead and shoot me on sight if he saw me letting a woman pay for herself.”
I scoff at him. “That’s so sexist.”
He shrugs. “Oh, absolutely, but it’s not a concession I’m going to make. What else do you want?” I blink at him for a second, figuring out what else to ask for.
“Um, I want to choose the movie. There’s a new superhero thing I want to see.”
His face falls immediately. “There’s that special showing of Singin’ in the Rain you were looking up times for?
It’s a classic, and I know we both like it,” he says, sounding hopeful.
I do want to see that instead, but he really doesn’t seem to want to see the multiverse thing, so I shake my head, smiling at him spitefully, and he sighs.
“Fine.” He’s being so acquiescent, and I’m angry enough that I start pushing.
“I don’t want you to touch me.” He frowns, looking slightly concerned.
“I don’t want you to stand close to me.” He rolls his eyes at me, catching on.
“I don’t want you to talk to me.” He sighs heavily and pushes off the couch, grabbing his keys and opening the front door.
“I don’t want you to come with me,” I snap, trailing after him.
He laughs, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m aware. Can we go? All I want is to have a nice day with you.” He seems to mean it, and I stare at him for a second before walking through the door, getting close to him and jamming my finger into his chest.
“You are not going to have the day you want.” He raises his eyebrows, seemingly amused.
***
I do everything I can to ruin Theo’s day.
I tune the car radio to a conservative talk radio station, and when he changes the station quickly, I change it back, telling him I want to listen to it.
He shoots me a disgusted look, and I spend the car ride reveling in his increasing irritation and muttered rebuttals to what’s being said on the show.
Once we get into Portland, I choose a greasy spoon diner that I know he’ll hate, order the worst-sounding thing on the menu, and then sweetly ask him to switch plates with me.
He gives my food a horrified look before he takes it, reluctantly handing over his omelette.
He doesn’t eat much, he just drinks coffee and tries to talk to me, and I give him vague, mostly one-word answers, which I know he hates.
I drag him around stores and ignore him, chatting animatedly with any halfway attractive male employees. Theo has a tight, polite smile plastered on his face as he watches, but I can tell I’m pissing him off.
At lunch, I choose a burger restaurant, order the greasiest thing on the menu, and make him switch food with me again. His jaw clenches as he swaps our plates.
“Are you having a good day, sweetie?” he asks, his tone tense and condescending. I give him my most saccharine smile, enjoying how miserable he seems.
“Oh, absolutely. Aren’t you?” I ask, mimicking his tone. He leans across the table with a small smirk.
“No,” he says quietly, “but I am enjoying how hard you’re trying to turn me on.” My nipples harden and I look away from him, and he lets out a low, mean laugh.
He shouldn’t get to make me feel like this.
I sneak my card to the server when I go to the bathroom, and when he realizes I’ve paid for lunch, he seems to lose his patience. As we leave the restaurant, he slings an arm around my waist and pulls me tight, not letting me go when I push away from him.
“You need to stop being a fucking brat, Alex,” he whispers into my ear. The harsh tone of his voice sends an anticipatory shiver down my spine that I can’t ignore. I cross my arms, my anger flaring as I look up at him.