Maybe because he no longer owns me and has to seek permission for things he could just take before, he’s applying charm and sexy. Who knows?
‘No. You agreed! You can’t back pedal now. No touching is what it is … NO TOUCHING!’ I fire back at him, crossing my arms over my chest in a bid to get some breathing space between us. I am fully aware my insides have started that slow rise to heat of their own accord because a hunk of muscle and testosterone is practically pressed against me and talking about sex. Traitorous knickers twisting themselves up as little flitters in my nether region tingle away crazily.
I am starting to despise the fact that we have a natural sexual chemistry so strong that it even overpowers my longing to loathe him. I guess that’s how the devil reels you in over and over again though. Makes you open your legs, just with some smooth moves and a little coaxing.
He’s infuriating me with the way he’s hemming me in against the door, which has now swung closed behind me, and I can’t get off the step while a huge six-foot hulk is standing in front of me like an unmoveable wall.
‘What about this.’ He pokes me in the rib softly, jokingly, and I swear I might self-implode with how irritating he is being, slapping him in the shoulder in fast reaction and get even more irate.
‘What is with you today? You’re like a bloody child. Stop touching me! And what’s with this?’ I wave my hand over his mouth area pulling the cringe face dramatically—Irritation hitching along with my pulse.
‘Why are you being smiley? It’s weird and creepy and something you don’t do.’ I sound petulant and stroppy, but he’s making me nervous with his out of character behaviour.
He just keeps grinning at me as though to prove my point and I can’t help thinking maybe this is some weird sociopathic trait. Maybe he has lost the plot in the last months and I am witnessing the creepy, happy calm before he annihilates the world … Or maybe just me.
‘Maybe you just put sunshine in my day, Red.’ He mimics Gino’s lazy dialect and flicks my hair with his finger annoyingly, earning himself another hand slap, although this time on the back of his. It stings my palm and I give him another glare as my mood borders on violent anger. I don’t like the way he can act as his twin alarmingly well. It doesn’t look right on him somehow and I don’t like him seeming so Mr Nice.
Yeah, I know I am screwed up. I don’t trust good guys or the act of one.
’Eww, don’t!’ I put my finger in mouth and mock vomit at his attempts.
‘Cringe isn’t your style and you definitely need work on those chat up lines,’ I eyeroll dramatically.
‘Tell me what works for you and I am all in.’ It’s a low, husky definite flirt mode. The charm and jokes are making me uneasy, narrowing my gaze at him with warning that I am onto his weird little game, even if I don’t know what it is.
‘Is this you being a prick? Or is this you being … I don’t know … devious? Isn’t there a puppy somewhere you should be torturing?’ I’m flustered, face heating because he’s making me fidgety with this completely new side to him, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what angle he’s playing. Open flirt and chat up lines are never his style and they were never aimed at me. I know he isn’t being serious; I mean he can’t be, surely, and I don’t get if he thinks this is acceptable humour—it’s not. Not with our history. It’s in bad taste!
He knows we are not going there again and why would he want to? He’s the one who pushed me out.
‘This is me being late to meet my cousin for boxing practice. I gotta go. Be good for once.’ He pushes my forehead with his palm, like a sort of cheeky high five, and dodges my well-aimed third slap, laughing at me as he jumps down the steps. He is still dressed in head to toe casual sportswear and trainers and looks effortlessly ‘lad’ about to go jogging.
I think he’s had a lobotomy as this is NOT Alexi Carrero. Not the one I know anyway.
‘You’re a jerk,’ I yell after him.
‘A sexy jerk; Deny it all you like; I know you agree. You can both loathe and lust after me simultaneously,’ He replies with a grin and a wink as his car beeps and flashes as he gets near it with a key in his hand. That small dark sporty number he uses when he isn’t being chauffeured around by minions.
‘That’s arguable. I’m not good at multitasking,’ I throw back, unable to stop the slight smile hitting my face, despite myself—Confused that he is actually capable of doing it.
His mood is infectious, annoyingly so, and I hate that he, of all people, just managed to drag a genuine smile from me. I have never known someone who can control such a basic thing while you hate on him ruthlessly … smiling genuinely, unwillingly, is completely new on me.
‘Before I forget, I booked the shooting range at eight p.m., wear something comfy. And there will be touching … a lot of it, just saying!’ He pulls open the door, winks at me again, cheekily and moves to slide in, but I’m quick off the mark.
‘Wait! Alexi, about that,’ I call out in afterthought, not about the touching remark, even if it’s an instant piss me off point because he has no chance, but the gun thing.
He pauses and I impulsively make my way down to where he is, steadily down the steep steps on stilettos, coming to stand on the other side of his open door so it separates us and face him over the top. Bold and brave in the topic we need to talk about. I can’t miss the opportunity he has just opened up.
‘What about it?’ He turns serious, that glint of Master that I know well and it puts me more at ease than his previous few minutes. This Alexi I know and can sometimes handle. The Alexi I know how to behave around—the one who never made me smile despite myself. This is who I need to see so I know how to behave.
‘I thought about it in bed for a long-time last night and … I don’t want it. The gun … not the umm … you know, touching stuff.’ I don’t know why telling him this makes me nervous, or start rambling like a weirdo, but butterflies start rising in my stomach in anxiety and I can already feel my palms getting clammy. I guess it’s because I know he isn’t going to like this one bit, and I have seen enough glimpses of normal Alexi these past few days to know he can still turn. He may be on the charm, or cocaine or something right now, but that dark side is in there simmering away. He can go from zero to sixty in less than three seconds.
‘Cam?’ Alexi butts in, a deep warning tone, but I raise my palm hesitantly, swallowing down the fearful knot lodged in my throat.
‘Just hear me out.’ My voice trembles a little, but I’m set on this and spent the first hour in bed tossing and turning over it. Pulling my brain apart and looking at it from all angles. Alexi has a reasonable side sometimes … just not in relation to feelings. So, if I give him a logical reason then he might listen to me without blowing up. I’m praying anyway.
I know how to handle him sometimes; I should dig deep and try to keep him sweet.
Alexi sighs heavily, obvious irritation growing, crosses his arms over that impressive chest, which looks overly good in his tight sports tops may I add, and frowns at me. My heart sinks because Mr Control Freak is peeking out and getting ready to erupt. I can sense it. I swallow and just go for it, knowing a fast explanation is better than dragging out my ultimate death at the hands of an angry Carrero.
‘You can teach me all day long how to handle it, fire it and even carry it around like a second skin … but I am never going to be as strong or as fast as someone like you.’ I start, sounding confident and have a conviction to my tone. Alexi just remains silent as though waiting for me to explain further, frown moving in and those deathly steel greys get more intense on my face.