Chapter Twenty-Five
Alicia
“Alicia?”
Bastian’s fingers skated across my cheek and my stomach twisted, my body instinctually backing away from his touch.
His fingers lowered into the calm light of the room, my aunt’s end table lamp in the living room the only light to see by. We came back here together in his car, not saying many words at all along the way.
The reason why in my hand, I lowered the damp towel I’d been tending to his busted lip, the edge a deep and angry crimson. Gray had gotten him so very good.
Dropping the towel into a basin of warm water, I squeezed it out and brought it to his lip again. It’d swollen pretty good on impact, but the size seemed steady at this point. He had the indentation of bruises as well above, the print of thick knuckles embedded in his skin. Considering his injury, Bastian said nothing of pain, simply sitting there while I cared for the wound in my aunt’s living room. I guessed I felt it was the least I could do or something. I didn’t know why.
Why are you doing this to yourself… again?
The question circulated my head, Bastian’s and my history playing out before me even in the dull light of this room, him and his dominating presence and me, who always seemed to find my way back to this place when it came to him. It all started in a world outside of this one.
It seemed it found me again.
It found me in this place I discovered an unexpected peace within. It’d been one I hadn’t searched for but welcomed anyway. I loved it anyway.
My chest caving, I pressed the towel to Bastian’s mouth again, not a word of discomfort on his end like before, but when his hand reached for me once more, my blouse this time, I took my own extremities back.
He simply stared at me, questions in his eyes, but I had my own. I had so many.
My hand squeezed the towel and “What are you doing here?” fell from my lips. This had been the main question that circulated my brain since he arrived. Why was he here?
And what did he want with me?
The man sat back on my couch, his suit jacket gone and his gray button-up rolled over the thickness of his full arms. Considering Bastian had been in a fight tonight, the only indicator was a slight tousle to the wave of his spiky hair.
His head tilted, his chest rising and falling with a single breath. Bringing his hand down from his mouth, he leaned forward, arms draped over his knees.
“I feel like the real question is why don’t you want me here?”
He reached forward again, fingers intent on my chin but I pulled away once more, not letting him touch me.
His mouth closed.
“As well as why can’t I touch you?”
He lounged back with those words and I shook my head.
“You said you wanted to take things slow,” I told him, the word reverberating in my head like they had that day. He wanted to take things slow. He wanted to do his thing and let me do mine.
His fingers gathered at the top of his hair, and when he dropped them to the couch, his lips turned down.
“Yes, I did say that,” he said, moving closer to me. “But I think we can both agree we’ve been taking things slow.”
Swallowing, I panned away.
“Well, you can’t have it both ways,” I said and when I lifted the towel with intent to his lip, which started bleeding again, he grabbed my hand.
He brought the towel to his mouth, helping me wipe down his lips. The gesture was very intimate and I…
His hand replaced the towel, it dropping between us. He leaned forward and my only reaction was to move away.
“I don’t want it both ways, Alicia,” he said, drawing his body toward me. His hand touched the couch beside my hip and it would be too easy. It always had been easy.
But easy wasn’t what I wanted anymore and that wasn’t why I brought him here either.
Standing, I tried to find the reason, the bowl in my hand I placed on the end table near the lamp. My back to Bastian, I heard his breath behind me, a “You’re different” causing me to turn around.
He had his arms hung behind the back of the couch, his gaze appraising me. It was as if he was looking for something, but I knew if he found out just what that something was it’d be the last thing he wanted to hear. He’d find out I had moved on from him, that slow was exactly what we should have been doing. We’d gotten together in a way we shouldn’t have, his separation from his wife more than fresh when we initially hooked up.
It took time away from him to make me see that and that went beyond this place, beyond what my heart ended up finding.
He stood, his fingers touching his lips, and when he came away, blood coated his fingers.
“I suspected,” he said suddenly, tongue touching down where his fingers had been. “That you were being unfaithful but I honestly didn’t believe you the type.”
“Bastian—”
“You’re sleeping with him, Alicia,” he said, the words no less a statement than me standing before him. He lifted his chin. “You’re sleeping with that Grayden. No man reacts that way unless he feels what’s his is being messed with.”
He said it so calmly, so… cold and I wondered if he even cared.
But then again it’d make sense that he didn’t.
Turning away, I intersected his hand, touching me and moving my chin in the direction of his gaze. I moved away and he only smiled, his hand coming down on the wall behind me.
“Like I said, I didn’t believe you the type,” he said, looking me up and down. “But don’t be ashamed. I’ve been with others as well.”
Of course he had.
I’d be surprised if he hadn’t.
But still my lungs felt too small in the cavity that contained them, his hands on me drawing me in. He stared at me, the epitome of collected and I had no idea how I didn’t see.
I had no idea why I felt I deserved this.
In all honestly, it took how it could be to make me see, know what it could truly be like to be cared about by someone. Gray had punched someone in a bar tonight. He punched someone to defend me.
And I went home with the man he was protecting me from.
I’d defaulted to old ways, disappointed in Gray being so reactive when all he’d done was the right thing. All he did was love.
Bastian’s hands smoothed down my arms, a squeeze in his hands before he brought them down to mine.
“We’ve gotten it out of our system,” he said, moving forward. His strong smell stimulated my gag reflexes now. He looked down at me. “And once you come home, once you put this place behind you…”
He reached forward, again wanted to touch me, brand me in the ways he always had. One man never felt the need to do that in my life.
He’d been sure enough of himself where he never had to.
My hand cut him off this last time and I shook my head when I backed away.
I wouldn’t put this place behind me because I wasn’t coming home.
I was already here.