For the first time tonight his voice sounds genuinely sincere. “Is this on the clock, or. . .?” I leave my question open for him to answer how he sees fit.
I can see myself talking to him as a friend. I have a lot of male friends—way more than female—but if our chat is part of the secret life he doesn’t want to disclose, his offer will be a no-go for me. If I want someone to rush in and save me, I’ll call Isaac. I don’t want that. I want someone willing to help me sort through my confusion, not eradicate it on my behalf.
Although Alex’s to and fro routine frustrates me, the fact he knew I was in a low place without asking what crawled up my ass proves he could be the man for the job. He just needs to decide if he’s man enough to accept the challenge.
He proves it without a doubt when he pledges, “I’ll never be on the clock with you, Rae.Ever.”
His reply seems more detrimental to him than me. I don’t know why?
His interrogation starts before I’ve had time to prep for it. “Do you have an inkling on your stalker’s identity?”
Disappointment darts through his eyes when I shake my head. “No, but I’m reasonably sure he’s from my past.”
"What makes you say that?" He continues drying my hair as if it is a perfectly normal thing for him to do. It is a smooth move on his behalf. His subtle nurturing is relaxing me so I can address his questions.
"Did you recognize him? If you saw him, a sketch artist could compose an outline of his face. You'll be amazed by the details unearthed when someone is asked to describe someone. Husbands recall things they failed to notice in day to day life when they depict their wives."
“All I saw was a blur.” The defeat in Alex’s eyes is pushed aside for hope when I quickly add on, “But the message left on the vanity mirror is more revealing than his face.” I swallow several times, hoping it will help me ease out my next set of words. “He addressed me as Rae. No one calls me Rae anymore.”
“Except me,” Alex fills in the words I couldn’t produce.
When I nod, he asks, “Are you suspicious of my intentions?”
The caution in his tone makes my lips furl. “No. Not at all. Even Superman couldn’t take up residence in my bathroom in the short period of time between our kiss and you breaking down my door. Although, I’m a little skeptical about a few things.”
I can see he is dying to ask me what I’m doubtful about, but he doesn’t want to push me. That has me opening up to him more easily than usual. “Why did you come back?”
I realize an hour long shower didn’t eradicate my tipsy state when Alex’s tongue delves out to replenish his lips. I’m in the process of the first deep and meaningful conversation I’ve had since Luca’s death, and all I’m thinking about is how I can get another taste of Alex’s mouth.What the hell is wrong with me?
My eyes lift from Alex’s mouth to his eyes when he says, “As I said earlier, I wanted to apologize—”
“Bullshit,” I shout, calling him out as the liar he is, while also praying he’ll mistake the conflicting emotions in my eyes as anger. “If you wanted to apologize, you would have done it over the phone. That’s how all liars cover their asses.”
When I push off my feet to head into his room, he shadows me. “We’re not done with our conversation, Rae.”
“Yes, we are. I’m too tired to handlethisright now.” The way I emphasize “this” assures him I’m not referring to my home invader. “You should have just kissed me and left.”
"And let him hurt you? No!" The brutal shake of Alex’s head makes me dizzy.
I throw down the duvet on his bed with force. “What do you think you’re doing, Alex?”
He takes a step back, shocked by the devastation in my tone. He isn't the only one. I'm not needy. I don't cling to men and beg for their scraps. I'm fierce. I'm independent.I'm so fucking drunk on this man, he's more damaging to my senses than the whiskey I guzzled to forget his brutal rejection.
After folding down the covers to match my side of the bed, Alex discloses, “I’m trying to keep you safe.”
Honesty rings in his tone, but it doesn't stop me from saying, "By treating me like I have an STD. I'm clean, you know. You can't catch a disease from a dildo."
When he fails to respond to my taunt as I hoped, I stomp my foot down as if I am a child. “Why won’t you touch me?!”
“Because I can’t!” Alex shouts, his voice so loud I hear it twice when it bounces off the stark walls of his room. “I’m not a normal man, Regan. I have responsibilities, an oath to serve—”
“Believe me, I know you’re not normal,” I interrupt, hearing only what I want to hear. “Normal men don’t knock back the chance to bed a woman like me.” I freeze when a notion I haven’t considered before smacks into me. “You’re not married, are you?”
While cursing under my breath, I scan his room for evidence of matrimony. I can’t believe I was so caught up studying his super long eyelashes and devastatingly handsome face, I didn’t adequately evaluate his relationship status as I do every other man I’ve “dated.” I guess my lapse in procedure can be excused. We’re not dating. We’re not anything, really.
The color stops draining from my cheeks when Alex wiggles his ring finger in the air. There isn’t the slightest discoloration to be seen.
I wait for relief to engulf me.
