by C. J. Wells
He’s sweet. Just an all-around nice guy. Like Alex. The major difference, of course, being that Alex makes me weak at the knees with just one look.
“Come on in”. I unlock the door. Andrew’s olive branch is another welcome distraction. I’m not sure that I want to share the incident with Ben, but I could sure use the company.
Tossing my bag to the floor, I flop down on the sofa; leaning my head back as I look towards the ceiling.
“Do you want to talk about what happened last night?” He takes a seat next to me, my head darting towards him in question.
How does he know something happened last night?
“The venting systems in these old homes aren’t the best. Sound travels”, he shrugs.
“Ugh”. My head flops forward in a could-this-get-any-worse kind of way. So much for not sharing the fucked up mess. Pulling my head up, I look towards him. “What did you hear?”
“I heard you have some interesting heated words with a guy named Ben”.
The sound of his name sends shivers down my spine, as usual.
“I wondered at one point if I should check on you… but, before I could even decide whether or not it was a good idea, the guy left”.
Pulling my feet up on the sofa, I rest my elbow on my knee, my chin in my hand. I offer him another small grimaced smile, unsure what to say.
“I thought about coming over again when I heard you yelling out a string of curse-filled and rather expressive statements - towards your departed guest, I assume?”
I offer a guilty-as-charged shrug.
“Then I heard you crying. I thought I should give you your space”.
I look down towards the coffee table at his apt description of my reaction to Ben’s departure; the event replaying in my mind, exaggerating my day full of dread… What Alex will say. What I’ll say to him. What I won’t say.
I’m flooded with emotion once more. Cupping my face in my hands I begin sobbing, shaking my head at the entire ordeal. I wish I could just turn back time - follow my instincts, I castigate myself, tears streaming down my face.
“I’m so sorry, Aby. I didn’t mean to upset you again. Maybe I should go”. He prepares to stand.
Springing towards him, I wrap my arms around his neck, “Please don’t go, I just need someone to…” my words trail off in the sudden realization that I don’t even know what I need. I just know I don’t want to be alone again right now.
He embraces me as I sob against his shoulder. “Sssh”, he consoles me, “Everything will be okay. I’m sorry, Aby. You don’t have to tell me what happened. You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay”.
His soothing words allow my release of continued emotional lament as I slowly calm. There are so many things running through my mind. So much has happened in the past two weeks. The past year.
I think of my decision to leave Liam. The hurt I caused him, the hurt I felt leaving him. My decision to leave my family to begin this new life in London. Meeting Alex. I’ve fallen so hard for him, so quickly. And now this… Ben... Julia.
Everything happens for a reason, they say. Maybe this thing with Ben had to happen to make me realize how I’m falling into the same rushed mistakes. Repeating the same choices I made so many years ago with Liam.
No!
I came here to start a new life. A new life that included the possibility of meeting the wonderful man that fit my tall bill.
I think back to the night I met Alex and how I shared my desire to find the man of my dreams. I never set any timelines on my fairytale fantasy; I just knew I was open to finding it. I’ll just have to figure out how to handle this… the best way to handle it.
Removing my hold from his neck, he releases me in turn as I sit up.
Wiping the residual tears from my cheeks, I lean back, clasping my hands at my jaw, breathing in my newly calmed demeanor. “I’m sorry”, I mutter, my hands falling to my sides as I turn to look at him.
“Don’t apologize. I’m just happy to be here for you. It helped a little? ...To get it all out?”
“I think it did”. I’m a little surprised and relieved at the accuracy of my reply. Pulling my legs up, I bend them at my side, resting my hand around my knee. Releasing a deep breath, I smile. “Drama. I hate giving into it”, I shrug my shoulders in jest. I can’t believe I just cried my eyes out on his shoulder.
“What’s life without a little drama?” He grins. “I’m the go-to guy for drama cleansing - Amira availed of my services on more than one occasion. As a matter of fact, I’m famous for it, they even wrote a song about me, Cry me a River”, he sings the title. “It’s my slogan, business cards and all”.
I immediately laugh at his therapeutic humor. A much needed laugh. One of those post-cry laughs that emphasize how much you were crying and how much better you now feel. I’m glad I ran into Andrew. I needed this, the good cry and the laugh.
In the silence that ensues, I absentmindedly fiddle with the hem of my skirt, tracing the edging’s thread. “I should get changed”, I think aloud, before looking back to Andrew.
“Are you hungry? I have some leftover pizza I was going to reheat for dinner. I can go grab it while you change. Nothing goes better with drama then leftover pizza. Trust me. It’s on the back of my card; part of the package I offer”, he winks.
“Leftover pizza sounds great”, I reply on a slight laugh.
The reminder of my pizza lunch with Alex in the boardroom flashes through my mind. He’ll be home tomorrow, and I can’t wait to see him.
Oh yeah… Ben.
Shit. How quickly I forgot my current predicament, and emotional breakdown just moments ago. Andrew’s certainly a good shoulder to cry on.
Maybe he really should go into business, I smile at the thought, shaking my head at my drama and his successful jovial sidetracking.
“Reheated leftover pizza coming up”, he smiles, pushing himself up from the couch. “Be back in a jiffy”, he makes his way towards the front door.
“Sounds good”, I call after him.
At his departure, I make my way up the stairs.
Wow, I catch my reflection in the mirror, my eyes clearly echoing my blubbering breakdown. Deciding I need a good splashing of cold water, not to mention a removal of my smudged, though limited, make-up, I head to the bathroom first before changing.
Upon final inspection, I’m satisfied that the remnants of my formerly tear-soaked cheeks and reddened eyes aren’t as smack-you-in-the-face. Just a touch of lip balm, and I feel fresh and renewed.
That’s a little better, I think to myself, hearing a double rap on the front door, followed by the sound of its opening and closing.
Stepping into the hallway, I call down the stairs, “I’ll be right down”.
Turning back to the bedroom, I head for the dresser and pull out a light sweater, swiftly tugging it down over my head and arms as I walk. “Andrew, I’ll grab some plates. What would you like to drink?” I call out as I pass the stairs.
“I’m not sure about Andrew, but I’ll take a beer. You should really lock your front door, Miss Ryan”.
I stop in my tracks at Alex’s voice from the steps.
Swiftly turning, I find myself facing his sexy smirk. “Alex!” My excitement barely contained, I bolt towards him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow”.
“So it seems”.
Ignoring his sarcastic rebuke, I pull his face to mine for a sensual kiss. My God, how I’ve missed him. I give into the immediate return of desire I endlessly feel for this man, lacing my fingers through his disheveled curls.
I lose my breath when he ceases, pulling his lips away.
“Who’s Andrew?” he questions, his eyebrow raised.
“Oh… he’s Amira’s neighbor. My neighbor. You know what I mean. I met him the other day. He helped me figure out the tube. Oh! I rode the tube to work this morning! And back. After work”. My sudden rambling doesn’t escape me. Am I uncomf
ortable talking about Andrew with Alex?
No, why would I be. It’s not me, I suddenly clue in, it’s Alex…
Is he jealous?
At the sound of the opening and closing of the front door, I hear Andrew call out, “Reheated pizza delivery”.
Catching the questioning glimmer in Alex’s gaze, his eyebrow tweaked, I unconsciously purse my lips.
Andrew’s voice is louder as he nears the bottom of the stairs, “Aby? Will we eat down here or would you like me to come up to the kitchen?”
Alex’s eyebrow raises further, his head tilting to the side as he stares at me.
“We’re just up here, Andrew…” I reply as Alex firmly takes my hand to lead me down the stairs.
“We?” I hear him question before Alex and I come into view. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company. I can come back later”.
“Don’t rush off just yet”, Alex begins before I can reply. “We haven’t formally met. I’m Alex. And you’re… Andrew?”
“Yes”, Andrew replies, shaking Alex’s extended hand.
Awkward much? I grimace at the lingering handshake and silent tension surrounding us.
“Alex returned from his trip early”, I attempt to cut the rigid air. Smiling, I turn to look into Alex’s eyes, “It’s a wonderful surprise”.
“Yes, it was meant to be”, Alex adds with a forced smile, his voice less gentlemanly than I’m used to. “However, I don’t want to interrupt your plans”. He looks towards Andrew.
He’s is clearly uncomfortable, if not irritated. Whether Andrew can tell, I’m not sure.
“Not at all”, Andrew replies. “I offered Aby to share in a quick dinner a-la-leftovers, nothing fancy or important. Unlike your early return, which I know has made her evening. I’ll let you two be alone”, he continues, walking towards the door. Turning back, he holds up the pizza box, “I can leave this with you…”
“No, Alex… I mean, Andrew. It’s your dinner…”
“We’ll manage, Andrew”, Alex cuts me off; his body frigid at my name blunder, his tone foreign to me. “Enjoy your meal. It was a pleasure to meet you”.
“Will do. Have a good night, guys”, Andrew smiles sincerely, turning back towards the doorway.
I shoot Alex a questioning look before following to see him out.
“So ‘just Alex’ is Alexander Tate”.
“Yeah. Sorry. I just didn’t want to share…”
“What? That you’re dating a famous actor? That explains his kick-ass car. Aby, I’m a journalist, not a gossip columnist”.
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll explain later. Thanks, for…”
“No problem. Anytime”, he interjects. “Goodnight”.
“Goodnight”, I reply, closing - and locking - the door behind him.
I find Alex in the bedroom upstairs, unbuttoning his wrinkled dress shirt.
He looks up momentarily before continuing with each button with an added edginess. He seems aggravated and I can’t help but think it’s a little cute. Sexy even.
“Whatcha doing?” I decide to tread lightly, an air of playfulness in my voice.
“I’m taking a shower”. There’s slight bite in his matter-of-fact tone as he rigidly wrenches his shirt off his shoulders.
The sudden sight of his naked upper body releases a familiar tingling.
He doesn’t break his gaze towards me as I relish in his continued undressing.
In my heated delight of watching him unwrap himself like a wonderfully sexy Christmas present, I decide I want nothing more than to get my hands on him. “Why don’t I join you?” I swiftly pull off my sweater, sitting down on the bed to remove my jeans.
“If you like”, he replies flatly, standing in his black boxer shorts, folding his pants before setting them on the bed.
“Ok, what’s up with you?” I stand in my t-shirt and undies.
“Nothing. It’s been a long night. I just need a shower”.
That’s right, he must have left LA sometime last night… It’s about a twelve hour flight, I think to myself, remembering his message. “You sent me a text this morning…” I share my thoughts aloud, attempting to work out the timing.
“Yes, I was in the air - part of my surprise”. He walks towards me at the side of the bed; a heated sexiness added to the lingering edge in his gaze.
Placing one hand at my waist, he grabs the side of my neck, pulling me into a deep kiss.
He tastes so good. I can’t help but attack his bare inviting skin with my hands and wanting fingers, releasing a moan at the touch of my unwrapped present.
Pulling away, he leans to trail soft sensual kisses along my neck. “I thought pizza was our thing”, he pauses to whisper in my ear before continuing the exhilarating caresses.
“I knew it!” I push away from him, “You are jealous!”
“I’m not jealous, Aby”. His flat tone has returned. Releasing me, he walks towards the bathroom, stopping mid-stride to look at me, “Are you coming?”
“No”, I grimace, folding my arms. “I’m not getting in that shower with you until you admit you’re jealous”.
Rolling his eyes, he leans against the open door, his arms folded.
Jesus, you’re sexy as shit. I take him in from head to toe, fighting my desire to simply run over and devour him - my want to make a point winning out over my body’s sexual calling. “Admit it, you’re jealous, and I know jealous, trust me”.
“Oh?” he finally responds, a curious sarcasm in his tone.
“Yes. You have a mighty fine, and long, line of wanton females for me to feel jealous of. Have you not noticed all the screaming girlie fans?”
He rolls his eyes once more.
“I can name a few closer to home… there’s Julia, for one. And let’s not leave out the most questionable, Helena”, her name rolls off my tongue.
Sighing, his arms fall to his side. “Julia’s in the past, and as for Helena, I told you, Aby, it was just sex”.
At my lack of reply, he walks towards me, taking me in his arms. “What we have”, he smiles down at me, “is much more then sex”.
His words instantly remind me of the incident with Ben. An unshakeable shiver runs down my spine as I recall his suggestion that my relationship with Alex is nothing more than a fling.
“Is it?” I question aloud, in lingering doubt; a sudden build of tears in my eyes.
He steps back in surprise, “What are you saying?”
Shit. I can’t tell him now. I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. I choke back my looming tears, scrambling to recover.
With an angel of clever wit clearly watching over me, I attempt a shielding distraction, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Alex. I’m using you for sex”.
His lips pull into a sexy grin, “You, Miss Ryan, can use me for anything”. Bending, he whispers in my ear, “Just make sure you don’t confuse my name”.
Thankful that my diversion was successful, I relish in the hot tone of his teasing whisper. And I can’t help but play with him in return. “Anything you say… Andrew”.
Releasing a sexy growl, he swiftly lifts me over his shoulder.
I shriek at the surprise attack as he turns, carrying me to the bathroom.
“Alex… put me down! Alex!”
Ignoring my repeated kicking and screaming cries, he braces me in place with his strong arm secured around my backside, leaning to turn on the shower before setting me on my feet inside.
I gasp, the sudden cold water drenching me. My soaked-through t-shirt clings to my goose pimpled skin, my nipples puckering.
Without time to recover, he's upon me in the glass stall; still donned in his boxers, now clinging to his own glistening body.
Releasing a wanton breath, I grab him, our lips crashing in the erotic downpour of water; its temperature turned warm as steam fills the stall.
Cupping my jaw, he angles me for his kiss.
I’m consumed by him. His intoxicating taste seeps in
to my mouth as his tongue duals with mine.
Sliding my fingers along his slick sides, I luxuriate in squeezing his taught muscles, memorizing the feel of him, each indentation, with my fingertips. He’s so strong and powerful. His body dwarfs me. I feel wholly protected in his arms. Cherished.
I moan into his kiss as the sparks of lust fuel through me, scratching my nails along his skin.
As if sensing my complete desperation, he pulls back slightly, flashing me a sexy, knowing smile. His eyes glaze over with desire as he stares down at my chest, my hardened nipples clearly visible through my soaking wet shirt. His smirk transforms into deep wanting as his eyes turn a darker shade of blue, his lips parting on a needy breath.
The eroticism of his display doesn’t escape me. To see him standing before me, clad in drenched boxers, his hair slightly curling from the moisture, I lose my breath.
Staring up into his face, watching as he takes in my highlighted form, I quiver in need. “Alex… touch me…”
Gripping the bottom of my soaked t-shirt with deft fingers, he forcefully pulls it off me, discarding it to the bathroom floor. Just as quickly, my panties are torn from my legs.
I barely register the swift removal his shorts; my need outweighing any coherent thought.
Wrapping his hands under by ass, he lifts me, pushing me hard against the shower wall.
I wrap my legs securely around his waist, sliding my hands along his strong, muscular shoulders, trying to gain measure over his damp skin.
Slickening his cock along the wetness of my folds, he buries himself deeply in one fluid thrust.
I scream at the fullness, my head falling back against the tiled wall.
His lips and tongue tease along my exposed neck, along my collarbone as he pumps his cock into me eagerly.
I moan with each brush of his hardness against my clit, igniting his fervor.
His thrusts quicken in a savage, primal mating, his passionate grunts driving me wild. “Yes, Alex… fuck me! Make me come! Make me yours…”
I’m desperate for completion. I need him to fill me with his cum. I need it like I need air to breath. To feel his essence shoot inside me - branding me.
I thrash in his arms, needing him deeper, needing him to fuck me harder.