When I double-parked in front of Lex's building, we still hadn't said a word since I had snapped at him.
I was officially feeling like shit about it and had been trying to come up with the strength to apologize. This moment right here, tonight, could be the foundation of a healthy-ish relationship between us.
Although... Lex was drunk, which could explain why he'd been so talkative and not as cold and distant as usual. I had no doubt that as soon as Monday would come, we'd be back to the Cold War vibes. Nevertheless, I didn't want to leave things the way they were right now.
I turned off the engine, unsure of how long this would take. The sudden silence quickly became oppressing, the confined space of my car seeming ever smaller. There wasn't even a sound outside to help with the heavy quietness. No cars, no passers-by... It was just me and Lex, and I was highly aware of that. He had unbuckled his seat belt but wasn't making a move toward exiting. He didn't seem to be in a rush to get out of here, or maybe just like me, he wasn't sure how to bring this to an end.
Okay, apologize, say bye, and then go home.
With a forced smile on my lips, I turned to him. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to snap at you or anything. It's just that I... I need more time."
He turned to me, his gray, intense eyes meeting mine. He processed my words for a moment, his gaze gliding over my features, his focus fleeting.
"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I thought it would be easier."
"What would be easier?"
He didn't answer, his expression turning uncertain. He either didn't know what to answer, or he didn't know if he should say it. I couldn't help it. Something inside of me began to hope. Hope he'd been having a hard time too, that being apart had been painful for him too. He didn't love me, but he still cared.
What we'd shared, the bond we'd had, it was a rare thing. It didn't matter if it had ended. Not everyone got to experience such passion, regardless of how ephemeral it had been. Our souls had collided with remarkable intensity, the burning ferocity of our needs impossible to fight. We'd flown together to great highs, making the fall only harder to endure. The brutality of the crash had left nothing to salvage.
Or at least, that was what I'd been thinking. But as Lex was looking at me with his hypnotizing eyes, I couldn't help but hope; hope something was salvageable. That maybe not everything was lost.
"What did you think would be easier, Lex?"
I could see how conflicted he was, his internal debate tearing him inside. It was as if he couldn't answer, as if he didn't know how to.
He surprised me by lifting his hand, reaching for my face. The shock was so great, I didn't move, didn't protest, didn't do anything...
The tip of his fingers grazed my cheek softly, his eyes gliding over the confused expression plastered on my face. The tenderness of the gesture hit me hard, my heart suddenly hammering a chaotic beat behind my ribs, a swarm of butterflies blooming low in my stomach.
I'd been wanting this so much. Some scraps of his affection, even the tiniest bit of it. I'd needed something, anything, to prove to myself I hadn't imagined it all, that we'd shared something real. Something deep.
Now that it was happening, I didn't know what to do, how to react, or what to think of it.
All I could see was him, the conflict in his eyes, his beautiful face so close to mine. The Superman symbol was peeking through his open shirt, and it was seriously not helping. How, of all the possibilities, had he picked this costume? I'd never told him about my fantasies, about how I'd compared him to Clark Kent in my head. It was the wildest of coincidences.
Ever since the bar, I'd been in a light state of arousal, my skin tingling, wanting to be touched, my intimacy growing wetter, demanding that he took care of it with his amazing skills. The ones I missed so dearly. With the warmth of his fingers heating the skin of my face, my arousal gained in intensity, and it was so much worse.
What I knew for certain was that he was drunk, and he would regret all of this in the morning. Shit, I would regret all of this in the morning.
I opened my mouth to say something, to make him stop, but he spoke before I could. "You're so fucking beautiful," he professed, almost sounding in pain.
The protest I was about to utter got caught in my throat, as I felt his hand brush my hair away, to tuck it behind my ear.
He couldn't say those things to me. I was barely beginning to get over him. He couldn't ruin all the work I'd done until now. But he could. He just had. And I was so fucking weak, so fucking miserable, I didn't care. It didn't matter right now.
I was a total mess. I was wearing a robe, I'd barely done any touch-ups to the makeup I'd put on this morning, my hair was having a bad day... My entire person must have looked like a wreck, but it wasn't what he was seeing right now. He thought I was fucking beautiful.
I was still swallowing this information when his hand slid to my neck and he unexpectedly bent toward me, pulling me to him in the same gesture.
My eyes widened with stupor and my mind went blank, my entire body preparing for the incoming kiss about to wreck me. I want this with everything I had. I wanted to feel his lips on mine once more. One last time.
Some inner strength I didn't know I possessed suddenly took over, and right before his lips touched mine, I turned my face away, denying him what he sought.
His lips met my cheek instead, and my insides melted at this simple contact. I became a useless pile of mush, losing my will to fight him, my resolve to keep my distance.
My rebuff didn't seem to affect him, as his lips glided toward the side of my throat, the warm puffs of his breath feeling like fire on my skin. With one hand holding me firmly in place, his mouth reached the thin skin of my throat, and he dropped open mouth kisses there, his wet, greedy tongue sampling the flesh.
Intense shivers spread from where he was passionately tasting my skin to go through my entire frame. I'd forgotten how intense everything was with him, how perfect it felt to be in his embrace. An embarrassing moan crept up my throat as I clenched my legs together in a desperate attempt to muffle the insistent call of my femininity. Shit, I wanted him. I wanted him so badly it was uncomfortable, my clit pulsating and sensitive.
He reached for my waist to pull me closer as he explored every inch of skin he could access. I tilted my head to the side. To give him the access he needed, eager to have it all, willing to bear the aftermath that would surely come. My weakness knew no bounds, as I reached for his nape, to keep him there, to encourage him to keep going. My fingers tangled with the short hair on the back of his head. I'd even missed this, touching his thick hair, how it felt under my palm.
He reached the sweet spot where my jaw, neck, and ear met, and he sucked on the skin briefly, getting another moan out of me. I trembled when he nibbled the lobe of my ear, making me so fucking wet I knew my panties weren't enough to contain my arousal anymore.
As if he'd read my mind, his hand let go of my waist and he settled it high on my thighs, his fingers trying to push their way between my legs.
"Are you wet for me?" he whispered in my ear, his low, hoarse voice making me lose my mind even further.
I clenched my legs tighter, my pride refusing to let him find out. I was drenched, probably soaking through my clothes, and he'd barely done anything. He licked a fiery path along a vein on my throat and my insides clenched at the delicious sensations.
Losing whatever restraint I had left, I spread my legs and reached for his wrist, to bring his hand to my core, feeling like I would burst if he didn't do something about the incommensurable need I had for him. He complied with eagerness, his fingers knowing exactly what to do to drive me mad.
"Aaah... Lex..." I whimpered as he pressed a precise finger over my shorts, right where my aching clit was.
He moved back a little to gaze at my face. His eyes lingered on my parted lips, his pupils expanding until his irises were almost black.
It felt as if the air inside of the car was scorching hot, my entire skin incandescent for him. My cheeks were burning, and I had no doubt my face was red, my eyes glistening with want, my expression one of pure lust.
He changed his grip on my neck, his hand wrapping around my throat in a dominant way. It should have worried me, but it only made me melt further. Shit, I loved it so much when he took control. Keeping his eyes on my flushed face, he removed his hands from between my legs, and I whined in disapproval.
Before I could beg him to put it back, I felt him reach for the elastic band at the waist of my shorts, and he slipped a precise hand under it, making me delirious with desire. He didn't try to make me beg or drive me mad, as he swiftly made his way under the cotton of my panties, the tips of his fingers grazing the patch of curls there. He moved even lower, and I witnessed the delight in his eyes when he saw exactly how much I wanted him.
"Always so fucking wet for me," he groaned.
With two fingers, he gathered some of my arousal from my molten slit, and then rolled their glistening tips over my swollen bundle of nerves. I trembled from head to toe, knowing he would make me come in under a minute.
"I've missed this," he told me, not stopping his torturous digits. He tightened the hold he had on my throat, bringing me closer to his face, his mouth an inch away from mine. "I've missed the sounds you make when I touch you, how your tight cunt wraps around my cock, how fucking easy it is to make you come..."
His dirty words brought me even further into the pleasure, and a soft cry escaped my lips. I was so ridiculously horny, it took my brain a moment to process his words.
Sex.
He missed sex.
He missed fucking me.
It wasn't enough. I wanted more than this. More than sex.
I'd never doubted our sexual harmony. Not even in the darkest times. We were amazing together when it came to sex. I knew I would never meet another man like him, and he'd told me himself it had never been this good before me.
But it wasn't enough. I missed all of him, not just the sex. I missed being with him, talking with him, waking up by his side, making him laugh, spending time with him, hearing his nerdy references and facts...
The realization that he had only missed the physical aspect of it sobered me up at once. I'd been so high moments ago, drunk on him. I was addicted to him as if he were the most potent of drugs. The reality of the situation had been discarded for a moment, and I'd allowed my heart to take over, ignoring all good sense.
But now, my mind was taking back control, and I saw how terrible this whole thing was. How the hell had I let this happen? There was no way I would allow myself to relapse, and get back to four weeks ago, when I was an inconsolable mess.
"Lex, stop," I said, my voice uneven. He either didn't hear me, or didn't think I meant it, because his fingers in my underwear were still actively working me up to a mind-blowing orgasm. Fuck, he was so good at this...
I reached for both his hands and tugged them away from me. "Stop," I repeated, my voice firmer. "We can't do this."
He understood I meant it, and after a brief moment of confusion, his expression turned into a mix of panic and shock. I was suddenly reminded he was drunk, and all of this was solely due to him getting carried away at the bar. I, on the other hand, had nothing to excuse my behavior, and that truth was painful to accept.
We stayed unmoving for a moment, staring upfront to avoid having to look at each other, our heavy breathing so loud in the silence surrounding us. I tried to calm the hectic rhythm of my lungs, waiting for my heartbeat to steady. The need between my legs was almost painful. My climax had been so close, it was demanding its due.
"I'm sorry," he eventually said, breaking the awkwardness. A little, at least. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I'm just... not used to handling that much whiskey."
There it was, the painful truth.
"It's fine," I lied. "Let's not even talk about it. We got a bit carried away. It happens." The words were difficult to say, but I needed to say them. I needed to believe them, or else I'd never get over what had just happened.
There were more seconds of silence, and he reached for the handle of his door. He opened it and turned to me with furrowed brows, hesitant. "I'm sorry, Andrea."
I wasn't sure if he meant for what had just happened, or for the general circumstances. I didn't have the time to ask as he exited my car, with an ease that showed how much this whole thing had sobered him up. My gaze stayed on him as he went to the door of his building without a look behind. I waited until he disappeared behind the heavy glass doors.
Once he was out of sight, I pressed my forehead on the steering wheel in front of me, sourly regretting my actions. How the fuck had I let things escalated this far?
My center was still tugging insistently, reminding me I'd stopped it all just in time.
Shit, I'm so fucking horny...
Okay, I needed to get home, and I needed to take care of this need. I needed to shower, to erase all traces of Lex, and I needed to come hard, to make my flesh forget what I'd missed tonight.
Having an objective gave me the will I needed to start the car and drive away.
I needed to fuck the lust out of my system.
I needed Jason.