“Lex?” I call with a couple of knocks. His answer doesn’t come, so I try louder.
When he still doesn’t respond, I carefully push the door open. It isn’t like I haven’t seen him naked before. I even explored most of him with my hands, lips, and tongue. So, really, there’s nothing new there.
But I’m wrong. I’m really fucking wrong.
Lex is naked under the stream of water, one hand leaning on the tiled wall before him while the other one rhythmically tugs at his dick. Despite the condensation, I can guess at the shape of his length and the fist jerking it intensely.
Fuck …
Him masturbating is the last thing I needed to see right now. He lets out a dangerously erotic groan, and my knees buckle, almost making me lose my balance.
Shit, I need to get out of here.
Forcing my feet to move, I take a few steps back, returning the door to the position it was in. With my legs still weak, I head to the primary bedroom.
So, Lex does have needs and impulses. He very much wants sexual release and the pleasure that comes with it. But he doesn’t want it with me, even though I spent the entire week making it beyond clear that I’m available.
He’s always wanted me. Even before we got together, or when we were broken up. But I guess he doesn’t want me anymore. He’d rather use his hand than me. Part of him still loves me—always will—but not like he used to. I broke his trust, and he might never look at me the same way again.
I’m such a fucking idiot. I’ve been convincing myself that Lex needs me here with him, for moral support and company. But he doesn’t, does he? I’m the one who needs it. Who craves it. He’s tolerating me because I haven’t given him a choice. And if my attempts at seducing him haven’t worked, it wasn’t for lack of trying. It was because he simply doesn’t want me anymore.
Kevin’s question, which I dismissed then, suddenly rings true. Who’s here for me? No one. I’m alone. I’m here for Lex, but unless I’m waking up with a scream and crying my eyes out, he isn’t here for me.
And I think I’m done giving without getting anything back. It’s exhausting, and I’m so fucking tired of it. I need to be loved in return, which is clearly not happening here. But there’s one place where I canget it, unconditionally. It’s three hours away, and I’ll head there as soon as my brunch with Mace is over. My pace is determined as I walk to the dressing room. I grab a couple of large bags and throw them on the bed to open them.
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 thearrest? Not once. Nor have you said you love me. So, no, Lex, you haven’t done something. You haven’t doneanything.”
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 doneeverything. 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.”
