Chapter 15 #2
It took me six days, but I finally got the memo.
If Lex would rather fuck his hand than me, and if he’ll ignore me any time I enter a room or dismiss me when I try to have a conversation, then I might as well not waste our respective time.
I’ll return to my apartment, and he can come crawling whenever he’s ready to be a grown adult and communicate.
I check the time on the nightstand clock and wince. I’ll throw everything into my car and call Mace to let him know I’ll be a little late. Fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty. He’ll be fine, especially since he’s always late himself.
First, I gather all my things from the bathroom.
I throw it all in a tote bag and set it by the door.
Then, I go to one of my drawers in the walk-in closet and fill my arms with its contents.
I drop it into one of the waiting bags and start over.
I repeat the operation three times until it’s full and start working on the other bag.
Just as I’m returning with another load of clothes, Lex comes into the room, wearing nothing but a towel, wrapped low around his hips. Fuck … This is dangerous for my resolve. I want him. I want to be with him, but not like this. Not anymore.
His eyes travel to the mess on the bed, and then look at me with incomprehension. “What’s happening here?”
“I could ask you the same,” I reply with a frown, motioning up and down at his lack of clothes. I don’t wait for his response and go get more clothes.
“I’m out of underwear. Why are you packing your things?” he asks, having followed me into the dressing room.
“I’m spending the weekend at my parents’ house.”
“That’s a lot of things for a weekend, Andrea.”
We’re back in the room, where I drop my new load into the bag. “That’s because you won, Alexander. I’m returning to my apartment afterward.”
That’s when I decide to look him in the eye.
His face is frozen with confusion. I take a moment to admire his shape and everything the white towel doesn’t cover.
Only God knows how long will pass until I see him like this again—if ever.
His skin is still slightly wet, like his hair, and I suddenly find myself parched. Focus, you horny nitwit.
“Have I done something?” he eventually asks.
“No, you haven’t. You haven’t talked to me. Or touched me. Or really looked at me. Do you realize you haven’t kissed me since the arrest? Not once. Nor have you said you love me. So, no, Lex, you haven’t done something. You haven’t done anything.”
I leave him there, stunned, to get more things. I can’t believe I brought so many clothes here. How fucking stupid was I, really, to think this would lead to anything?
“But do you want to know who has done something, Lex?” I ask with cynicism when I return. “Me. I’ve done everything. I’ve been here. I’ve been patient. I’ve fought for us. I got you out of fucking jail. I—”
“I never asked for that,” he interrupts me, his consternation morphing into irritation.
There’s no more room in the bag, so I drop my load on the bed and decide I need another one. “That’s another thing you haven’t done,” I say, meeting his somber eyes with a scowl. “You haven’t thanked me.”
“Thanked you for what? For being a reckless fool who risked her life for me?”
“Yes!” I practically shout at him. “Literally any man out there would have been so fucking thankful for what I did, but of course, you, the oh-so-complex, oh-so-mighty Alexander Coleman, are pissed at me for it?!”
“I never asked for your help!” he retorts.
“You didn’t have to. That’s how love works. That’s what happens.”
“Then we shouldn’t be together!”
That one feels like a stab, even though I’ve sensed it coming, and the sharp pain only exacerbates my anger. Even he seems surprised by his own words, as if his tongue spoke before his brain could formulate the thought.
“If that’s the way you feel …” I breathe out. Fuck, I wanted to sound stronger.
Again, he follows me into the walk-in closet.
“You endangered yourself, and you were so wrapped up in us that you didn’t even see how crazy you were being,” he explains, as if he could ever make sense of his decision.
“I was extremely lucid, Lex. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I knew the risks. And if I had to do it all over again, I would.”
“Then that’s even worse. You still don’t see it, even in hindsight.”
“You know what? I changed my mind. Right fucking now, I’d let you rot in jail,” I spit out.
He doesn’t answer, but his nostrils flare with anger.
“But you’re right. Let’s break up,” I bluff. “I’ll find myself a man who’d not only appreciate what I did for you but would also be willing to tattoo a prison map on himself to return the favor. That’s what I deserve.”
Of course, it flies right over Lex’s head. He stares at me with some confusion, and I say, “It’s from a famous TV show, you uncultured swine!”
I leave him alone in his fucking towel to return to the bed with more of my things.
“Will you stop packing,” he commands.
“Why?”
We’re full-on yelling at each other, and somehow, it feels good. All the frustration that accumulated since his release is getting out. Hell, since his arrest, even. All the things I’ve wanted to tell him are finally being said, even if I’m screaming them at him.
“Because you’re not leaving.”
I scoff. “Oh, so now you want me to stay? Make up your fucking mind, Alexander.”
“You wanted to talk. We’re talking.”
“That’s called shouting!”
“But at least it’s something, isn’t it?”
This man is giving me whiplash. I’m finally following his will and leaving, and now he wants me to stay and talk?
Too little too late.
“I’m not your fucking therapist, Lex. And I’m done being your scapegoat. You fucked up. You got arrested. And I got you out. Now, if you can’t see why I did it, then maybe you’re right. We shouldn’t be together.”
“I see why you did it. I’m saying you shouldn’t have. You had the easy part. All you needed to do was move the fuck on!”
“The easy part?!” I shout at him. “I’m not claiming I’ve had it worse than you because I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through, but it doesn’t mean I had it easy!”
He sighs, passing a frustrated hand over his face, the firm muscles of his arm flexing. “And how was it hard, Andrea? You were out there, free to do whatever the fuck you wanted!”
“I didn’t feel free, Lex!” I shout back.
I stare at him, fuming. He’s so conceited sometimes, it’s hard to remember why I love him so much.
“I might not have been physically locked up, but I was mentally in there with you, every single day. I wasn’t just getting you out of jail.
I was getting us out. And now you’re finally back, but you seem to be even further from me than you were in Sheridan,” I continue.
“At least we talked, at least you looked at me like you loved me, like you wanted me!”
“You think I don’t want you? That I don’t love you?” he roars.
“It certainly doesn’t feel like it. Not when I’m practically begging you to fuck me, and you decide to handle it yourself in the shower!”
Taken aback, he frowns. I’m pretty sure that if he weren’t already red from the screaming match, he’d be blushing slightly.
“Don’t you fucking knock?” he grumbles.
“I did, but you didn’t hear. I guess it really does make people deaf.” He doesn’t like my sarcastic tone, his eyes darkening.
“At least now I know,” I say, resentful. “I know I’ve been a moron for not touching myself, for feeling too wrecked to even consider it.”
When he understands what I’m saying, he confusedly asks, “You haven’t …”
“I didn’t want it if it wasn’t with you. It felt like a betrayal.”
“The real betrayal was committing a crime that could have you in prison for the rest of your life. But you drew the line at orgasming. Noted.”
“Go fuck yourself, Alexander,” I hiss. “Oh, wait, you already did that. So I’ll do it this time.”
I walk up to the nightstand on my side of the bed and pull out Idris and Jensen from it. I throw them into the second bag, which is nearly full. I shove a few handfuls of clothes in it, and as I grip the zipper, Lex grabs my wrist.
“I said stop packing,” he domineeringly repeats.
“And I don’t give a shit what you want or not anymore, Alexander. I’m spending the weekend with people who actually love me and then moving back to a place that feels like a home, not Cold War Berlin. I’ve suffered enough.”
“And me?! Can you imagine how much I suffered? I was alone in there. You stopped coming to visit because you were doing God knows what with fucking Oliver.”
“How—how do you know about Oli?” I ask, writhing my wrist into his hold, trying to get free.
“Kevin told me. He doesn’t know what happened with him back then, so, unlike you, he didn’t hesitate to tell me you were doing better and spending a lot of time with him.”
“We were working together to get you out,” I tell him, infuriated by his insulting assumptions. When I try to use my free hand to get him to release me, he grabs it as well.
“I did everything I could to protect you!” I remind him.
“And I couldn’t fucking protect you. Do you know how desperate I was? Weeks of worrying about what you’d do, watching the news, expecting to see you on there.”
“Do you have so little faith in me?”
Again, I try to release myself from his hold, but it’s useless.
Being held like I am, I can’t not think of his bare torso right in front of me, of the dark hair scattered on it, the tight muscles under the skin …
and below, the towel that would be so easy to tug away.
Those aren’t emotions I want to feel right now.
I want to stay angry, to use this momentum to put an end to this bullshit.
“Let go of me,” I demand.
“No.”
“Alexander, let me go.”
He seems determined and contained as he says, “Never.”
That only makes me try harder, and when my attempts do nothing but bring us even closer, I mutter, “You’re such an asshole. Let me—”
“And you’re the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met,” he cuts me off. I scowl, ready to throw the insult right back at him, but he then says, “But, God, do I fucking love you.”
I freeze in his hold, looking up at him in stupor. My breath is a little ragged from the effort, my mind frenzied. No, I didn’t hear him right. He didn’t just say that. But I must have heard right because his gaze expresses exactly the same thing, full of want, adoration, and … love.
This moment, really?! He chose this moment to say it?!
Emotions and feelings clash within me, leaving nothing but chaos behind. I can’t think over how loud everything is in my head. Anger is still there, burning in my chest, and I’m still aroused by his near-nakedness. But everything else is a cacophony I can’t make out.
Especially not when he leans down while pulling me up by the wrists.
His lips crash onto mine, and it’s as though the rest of the world freezes.
The long-awaited moment completely wrecks me.
My head spins, and my skin prickles as delightful shivers roam within me.
This feels like rain after an endless drought, like the Promised Land, like finding a golden ticket in my chocolate bar …
And it still isn’t fucking enough. It’ll never be enough.