Chapter 285

Sleep eludes me. Not that I thought it wouldn’t, but it’s frustrating just the same.

I spend what seems like forever tossing and turning in the bed, unable to clear my mind of anything and everything and rolling myself into a frustrated mess. Up and down like a yoyo. Mood and emotions twisting me up and trawling me out just to do it over again. My bedclothes get so screwed into an unholy mess I end up getting up and fixing them several times, so unsettled and restless that I’m making myself crazier than hell.

I can’t think straight because I’m so utterly tired, yet I can’t clear my head enough to close my eyes and think of nothing at all. It’s exhausting and making me irrational and tearful all at the same time.

He really has a lot to answer for.

Alexi is all up in there in a hundred different ways. Good and bad, I guess. Churning over months of scenarios and shining a new light on meanings and outcomes. Picking apart every conversation we have had since I came back. Pawing over hurt and happier memories like I can’t really believe any of it for how they seemed anymore. Face value means nothing now I’m looking backwards.

Sex, confessions, Rick, life in general around Alexi. It’s all a jumbled, confusing bundle of a mixed and muddled mess. Trying to slice open all that I thought I knew and add this new insight to every detail. Trying to take away the obvious and apply a lot of double meanings to really see Alexi acting like someone who gave a shit instead of someone who didn’t.

And that one burning question which is sending me into an emotional meltdown.

What now?

I know I love him; I can’t deny that fact no matter how hard I try. It is how it is, even if I don’t like it, but loving him and admitting it to him and giving him the last ounces of power over me terrify me. I don’t think I can do it.

I can’t forget what he did or how easily he can rip me to shreds. He may be playing nice now, but what if he turns, what if we don’t work or I piss him off? Can I ever trust him with all of me once again? I have been there and done that and he threw me aside like an empty rubbish sack.

You don’t do that if you care.

He wants us to be something more.

What does that even mean? What is more? Can we be more than what we are? Is that even possible, given where we have come from and what has gone on between us? What does ‘more’ mean for him and what would he expect from me to be that ‘more’?

A relationship?

I don’t even know what that is like, even by normal standards. I never had a real relationship with anyone in my life; in any way. Not even any sort of real two-sided friendship let alone love; well Mico and Jackson don’t really count because it’s business, and they are paid to tolerate me.

My own mother couldn’t stand to look at me and I don’t know how to form long-term bonds or trust with anyone, let alone a man who crushed me in two and was the root of me trying to end my life.

Trust is a funny thing, and despite my affections for Mico and Jackson, I don’t even think I trust them. And they have done nothing for me to doubt them. How can I begin to learn to trust Alexi? After everything he has put me through.

To trust that he cares for me so we could be something more—if he even does.

If I believe him.

I do.

Sort of.

Maybe.

I don’t fucking know anymore.

I kind of do, yet there are so many doubts and fears in knowing what he is capable of, standing in my way. Blocking any thoughts of trying to see how this goes.

If he loved me back then and could still do those things to me, then he is capable of doing them again. Why wouldn’t he? He has no limits, and he can snap and repeat shit to hurt me if I push him enough again. Punishing me, hurting me. It’s in him. I mean a guy who can torture and murder someone in cold blood can definitely inflict more mental damage on me. All in a day’s work for someone like him.

I can’t take it anymore, and finally, I relent and get up to go fix myself a warm drink and find some sleeping pills in the kitchen. Anything to get a break from this self-inflicted torture and give my head a rest. I feel like my brain is wringing itself out and pushing its mass through a meat grinder. Sleep deprivation will not help me figure anything out, and it’s giving me nothing but a headache.

I pad out to the kitchen through the dark living room and almost jump out of my skin when I turn into the kitchenette and walk smack bang into him at the fridge. Heart missing a beat and squealing like an idiot as I collide with a warm, hard body in the semi-darkness. He has all the lights set to low, so I literally didn’t see his all black dressed skulking self in the shadows.

‘Fuck’s sake, Lexi!’ I jump half a mile and almost drop dead of a heart attack.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiles at me, looking daunting and obviously impressed with his sinister prowess when lurking around in the partially lit apartment. I just eye roll at him as I try to calm my erratic heart and weak limbs.

Panther comes to mind. He has the silent, confident walk of a ferocious black beast in the shadows. Wearing what looks like a form-fitting work out tee over sweatpants. Modern day ninja or cold assassin.

“Don’t you use beds?” I ask sarcastically, still recovering from my minor stroke as he moves out of the way to let me pass. I lift the milk jug out before I head for the counter past him to put space between us again and regain control of my shallow breathing.

“Sometimes. It smells of you, so I didn’t think sleep would be achievable.” He answers it so matter of fact, but those eyes are homed in on me and every movement and I can feel them following me around the space. Alexi is trying to read me for any kind of reaction, I guess.

What he said though has a more profound effect. I blush right down to my roots and eye him up sheepishly as I get what he meant by that. What we did in his bed hitting full force like a pornographic replay in my mind’s eye, and I can’t deny that little heated tingle between my thighs at the thought. I push it down again and try to ignore the way my whole body just perked up with the appetite of a ravenous whore. I mean the guy fucks like a lothario and has the tools to make it memorable. Getting turned on by him has never been a problem.

Seems my libido had a fast recovery anyway, even if my mental state hasn’t.

“Right, of course.” Instantly losing my cool and spill milk everywhere on the surface as I try to fill a mug for the microwave. Very skilled.

“Did you get any?”

What? Sex? The smell of Alexi on my sheets? What on earth is he talking about? I blanch at him questioningly, face warming as that juvenile blush creeps up to my temples and gets two shades darker, judging by the heat my face emanates.

“Sleep … you look frazzled.” He finishes, and that glow turns hot crimson on my face as I inwardly curse myself for turning into this odd uncool freak with him right now. I have no clue what’s wrong with me, other than complete fatigue. I’m acting like a virgin who got caught alone with the school heartthrob hinting at nooky.

What happened to my years of seducing men like a pro and being the level-headed seductress with all the moves?

He’s killed my sexual prowess dead.

I wasn’t expecting him to be out here, and now I’m all fingers and thumbs and feeling unusually nervous around him, while he seems completely normal once again.

What the hell is with his effects on me? I swear it’s some kind of voodoo. Must be some demonic skill given to the devil to lure unsuspecting women to their deaths.

“No, not really. Lots going on in here.” I tap my temple with a long-manicured nail and try to turn my attention to heating milk for a hot chocolate to help me relax a little and not look like such a ditzy klutz. I’m overly aware of how big he is in this small space and the way he is hovering around me, moving in, sapping all the oxygen in the room. I drop my spoon and inwardly curse at the uselessness of my own digits.

“You seem nervous.” Alexi points out the obvious and I blow out a lot of air heavily, knowing I can’t hide it from him, and resistance is futile. I’m sweating nerves and he is so close my heart is palpating and making me so uber jittery, it’s crazy. My skin is tingling all over and I’m so sensitive to his nearness I can practically feel him. He isn’t dumb and reads body language and mannerisms better than anyone. He can clearly see the hot mess I have become.

I drop the spoon again, clattering onto the surface loudly and try to look like I have my shit together when I retrieve it.

I don’t know why he is now having this kind of effect other than because I know he is expecting an answer I don’t have. Or maybe because my head just keeps screaming ‘ALEXI LOVES YOU’.

Nerves because everything has changed between us. Or just an emotional break as I finally leap off the sanity shelf and into the mental breakdown pot. Who knows?

“Look, I know you are wondering what I’m thinking about in terms of what you said. I just …” I have no clue how to say it. I just feel like I need to fill the gap with something verbal.

“You’re scared.” Alexi states bluntly and I pause to catch his eye. He seems normal once more and much like the Alexi I’m used to. It’s oddly reassuring in a very fucked up way. He seems unfazed, unaffected and devoid of all normal human emotions. So, back to usual then.

“Confused.” I correct him, but even I know he was right the first time.

“I’m not expecting you to dive into my arms and announce a relationship, Cam. I’m not asking for that. I know that’s something I have to work towards and earn, all I’m asking for right now is the chance to spend time with you. Take you on a date or two and not have you run out the door like a maniac at 4 AM after mind-blowing sex.”

Mind-blowing? Is that him telling me that sex with me is as good for him as it always is for me?

Don’t overthink it, Cam. Sex is sex for men. As long as they get to poke a dark wet hole until they cum, they’re usually happy.

He leans in against the counter beside me, propping his butt at it so he can look at me while I fumble with jars of cocoa and almost drop the mug when trying to get it in the microwave.

Lord have mercy on my soul.

Please stop disabling my hands and making me look like an utter moron in front of this man.

“Sounds so simple when you put it that way.” I stammer out, attempting to sound like me, only higher pitched, much antsier and hanging on the verge of a mental break.

“It is as simple as we make it.” He takes the jar I have lifted from my hand and opens it for me, laying it on the counter, making it clear he can see how much I’m struggling to do basic tasks. I take a deep breath, hating how obvious I’m being and try to steady my trembling fingers before I continue.

“Hmm,” I answer as though I’m distracted, but really, I’m inwardly shaking. He’s not trying to pressure me, actually he probably is, it’s Alexi after all, but either way, it suddenly feels very intense in here and I’m struggling to catch my breath.

I think they call that a claustrophobic response to being cornered. He is pushing for an answer I don’t have and I’m running the other way because I’m not ready to decide.

“I know you still care about me. Last night coming home to that, was all I needed. It’s what I have been looking for … a glimpse that you still feel for me. I won’t fuck this up again. I know I only get one chance.” He leans in again and takes the jar out of my hand as I attempt, ungraciously, to get the lid back on, and closes it for me before handing it back.

So domestic nowadays.

I avoid looking at him as he slides nearer, and I concentrate on putting it back in the cupboard without dropping it on my own face.

“I thought you were dead … I was emotional, erratic.”

Insane.

“Perfect.”