Attraction (6 page)

My eyes fluttered open as his phantom fingers had reached my hardened nipples. The curtains were still pulled in my room, concealing the sunlight. My head pounded and eyes burned as I hunted for Alexander in every square inch of my room.

But he was nowhere to be found; he had gone.

I sat myself up and curled my knees to my chest. My physical pain was nothing compared to the pain I was feeling emotionally. I was infatuated. And the emptiness of that infatuation was torturous.

I had to medicate. I wouldn’t make it through a single moment of the day if I didn’t take control of the angst that possessed me. At least that I could control. My heart, on the other hand—there were no medications to cure my ailing heart.

I sluggishly turned, letting my legs hang off of the side of the bed, when I noticed a folded letter sitting on my nightstand.

The front flap had writing on it.

Taking it with a shaky hand, I brought it close to me so I could only view the flap that read:
EVANGELINE.

The adrenaline began rushing through me, and my body was in “flight or fight” mode. I was ready and willing to do either or both: take flight to conquest my love, wherever he may have gone, and/or fight to the death to make sure that when I did find him I would never let him go for a second.

I braced myself as I opened the note, prepared to expect the worst. But what I found was the complete opposite; the letter simply read,
Come downstairs!

They were three very simple words, but they defeated my strength and plowed through my courage; he was still here, and I had to face him!

I ran clumsily into the bathroom and readied myself; I couldn’t let him see the hot mess that was me at the moment. I tried to quickly make myself up. I tied my long black hair into a messy bun and put on some light foundation and blush so that I didn’t look so sunken and drained. And after applying a little lip gloss, I slipped on a hip-hugging long-sleeved dress, making sure to cover any or as many of my bruises as I could. I sauntered down the stairs wondering where he would be waiting.

I heard a clatter in the kitchen, but it was the sweet aroma of baking batter that took me back to his apartment and his Belgian waffles. The saliva built up in my mouth, but the hunger wasn’t for food; it was for the chef himself.

I entered the kitchen and, as expected, he was in fact making breakfast. There was a spread on the table fit for royalty, but the king was also the cook!

I stood quietly, taking in the vision of Alexander wearing only his gray slacks. He was facing the stove, and I felt hypnotized as his muscles tightened on his arms and shoulders and his bare back flexed with every movement he made. He was divine! There wasn’t the slightest imperfection in his anatomy.

I swallowed my craving and softly alerted him of my presence. “Good morning.”

But he didn’t turn and only responded after an awkward silence. “I was wondering how long you would stand there before saying good morning.”

“How did you…?” I was confused as to why he would let me stand there without acknowledging me.

“You need to get accustomed to the fact that I can sense you from miles. And let’s not forget that you have a scent to you that can’t be confused with anyone else. Now, take a seat,” he commanded me, and I did as I was told.

But as I walked toward the table, I kept him in my sight. I wanted him to look at me; I wanted to meet his stare and to feel him peering through me. But he didn’t.

I sat alone at my kitchen table for a while, watching Alexander as he continued to prepare us breakfast. And though I had no desire to eat, I wouldn’t dare alert him to that after he had gone through all the trouble of cooking everything in my fridge.

He placed the last plate of food on the table and poured me a cup of coffee. “Take this,” he said, handing me some ibuprofen. “Drink the coffee black. It will help.” And then he sat down on the other side of me.

“Alexander—”

But he didn’t allow me to speak, even though I had no idea how I was going to explain everything.

“Eat; I can barely stand to look at you so thin. And I have plenty to say for the both of us, so you can remain quiet.” Taking the empty plate in front of me, he began piling on food. I felt nauseated at the thought of eating, but I wasn’t about to anger him, so I pretended to eat by moving the food around on my plate with my fork.

“Though you’ve done nothing but act like it, you’re not a child. Stop playing with your food.” Alexander’s attentiveness toward me was always on point, but I didn’t appreciate it now like I had previously.

Managing to put a small piece of egg in my mouth, I struggled to swallow it, seeing as my stomach was shrunken by my nerves. “Can we please talk about all of this? Or are you going to continue to torment me by sitting there motionless and mute?”

“Torment you? I’m tormenting you? What is it exactly that you would like to discuss? You said all there was to say when you told me you didn’t love me;
that to me
says that there
is
nothing more to say. Except for maybe you’d like to explain why you allowed that sick fuck to beat you.” Alexander’s tortured words repeated from our last encounter were delivered with disdain.

I had unfortunately had three months to dream of him but only moments of sober wakefulness to make a plan of how to win him back. I was at a loss, and there were no apparent words or explanations for my transgressions or my shameful actions.

“I can see you trying to make a diagram in your head of what scenario or explanation you should lay out, but it’s not going to work. You have no say in this situation; you have lost the right to determine how this
should
work or plan out how it
will
work.” Alexander moved his chair closer to me and pressed his elbows onto the table as he leaned closer. “I make the rules now, and you will follow them.”

He arched his eyebrows, daring me to argue.

“Silence…good. That’s a good start,” he whispered at me as he relaxed into his chair, and I waited for him to continue.

And for once, I truly had no plan. I waited to find out my fate, to hear the rules and the obstacles I would have to overcome to be with Alexander. But I had already decided I was willing to do anything.

“You tore my heart out.” And with that short statement he confirmed that he was not going to make this easy on me. “I purposely kept myself from relationships for this reason. I’ve experienced the worst of death and loss and pain, and I let you into that part of my life, assuring myself that you wouldn’t hurt me. But you did; you hurt me worse than anyone else.” He paused. “And I know that you are sorry for causing that pain. I see that now. I know why you allowed yourself to be punished; and I won’t let you suffer willingly or unwillingly.”

My eyes swelled with tears as I listened to the wounds I had inflicted on this man that I had lusted after and longed for. I wasn’t myself; I wasn’t this weak, whining, beggar of a victim, but my adoration for him had consumed me.

Alexander took a sheet from his pants pocket and placed it on the table and then stared deep into me, measuring my current state. He spoke soft but aggressively. “I tried to let you have control. I know that is what you wanted and what you feared losing. But that obviously didn’t work. I’ve known women like you—” He paused, shook his head, and rephrased. “Let me start over. I have known women who had to have control. I have seen what it does. I know that being young and successful you see the world in front of you, but you’re overwhelmed. You take on one thing at a time because everything you do
has
to be perfect. I get that, but you have got to let it go. I am going to make you let it go. And I won’t let you do that to
us
—not anymore.” Alexander paused, painstakingly trembling as he released his devotion. “So, seeing as you have shown an interest in alternative lifestyles and the like, I did a bit of research while you slept, in an attempt to understand the woman before me. Evangeline, I fought to forget you. I tried to find contentment and ecstasy elsewhere, but I remained unsatisfied. You, on the other hand, have chosen to feel pain to make up for your loss. And with that, you made me realize that you’ve never known loss in your life until recently. Your experiences have led you to be the cynical but soulful woman you are now. Tainted by past relationships, you are fearful of having to sacrifice your successes for your desires.” Alexander paused and took a breath. “I have decided that a relationship between us won’t work.”

The gasp that came out of me was hopeless and raw. I had heard the words, but I refused to believe this was the end. “Please don’t—”

But he wouldn’t let me object. “Quiet,” he barked, “I’m not finished. I will tell you when you can speak; you’ve done enough speaking for a lifetime.” He adjusted himself in his chair and continued, “Like I was saying, a relationship can’t work the way
you
want it to work. You won’t allow yourself to enjoy the obvious love that exists within you because you fear the unknown of what’s to come. I won’t lie; I didn’t come up with this on my own. I found an article online, by chance one night when I first left for LA. It described the three stages of love and how couples move from one point of a relationship to another, and those who can’t move past the stages…Well, those relationships don’t thrive.”

I listened intently to Alexander as he reiterated the information found in some article about love and the stages that exist within relationships. Stage one was
lust
: where two people are driven by sexual desire or a chemically induced physical desire for each other—which would clearly explain my involuntary orgasms any time I saw, thought of, or smelled Alexander when we first met.

“We have to move past the
lust
if we want to move forward. The lust definitely doesn’t have to end, but it has to be
that
plus more. But the problem here, my dear, is that you will never allow yourself to willingly give up control, and we will never be more than this—a torment to each other emotionally—and it will be the only gratification we can ultimately find. So it seems like we are stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

Alexander was more than correct. As much as I wanted to lose control with Alexander, I could never easily give it up, unless I was forced to.

And that is where Alexander found our answer.

“You’ve mentioned it before, in your ranting of sexual likes and dislikes and practices and your recent delusional experience with your psycho friend; but have you actually looked into BDSM and the basis behind the foundation of it?” Alexander asked the question with real interest, and though I was slightly confused at what he was getting at, I was stimulated.

“I know basics about the dom/sub understanding’s of rules and safe words and such, but not much more. I’ve never practiced it before Michael. I could never”—and realizing I was confirming his assumptions of my controlling nature, I took a deep breath and lowered my head in defeat—“give up control. And in all my past failed relationships, I had so much control; they could never satisfy me.”

Alexander smiled at my pronouncement; it was the first smile that had graced his lips since we were reunited, and it was blissful to watch: his lips were now bloodred, and a flush of color returned to his cheeks. He was pleased. “Good. Step one: admitting the problem. We may make progress yet! So, my conclusion of needing to restructure our relationship in order to keep us together and sane led me to creating my own set of
rules
for you to follow.”

Alexander spoke very calmly, but what he was saying, the insinuation of a dominant/submissive relationship, was worrisome for me, especially after what had just happened. The expectations of being able to give up complete control was an issue; though the consequences of
desirable punishment
held definite enticement with Alexander.

“What kinds of rules?” I asked softly, turning my gaze into a pouty stare—one that was sultry—as I listened to the judgment of a punishment or grounding and prepared to plead for mercy.

Alexander, with his fingertips, pushed the paper on the table until it was directly in front of me; it was white printer paper, perfectly typed and formatted. The content was lengthy, and without reading the full document, the few words that stood out were:
Contract, Dominant, Submissive, Evangeline Chase,
and
Alexander Mason.

Alexander’s hand came over the paper, covering it almost entirely with his large palm. “You are not to read this now. You’ve been through hell, and I know you want me. You spent the night moaning my name and writhing in your sheets. I don’t want you to make a decision based on filling a need. There is a higher purpose for this contract: I can’t lose you again, and you don’t want to lose me. So with a clear mind and an open heart, I want you to read, word for word, the contract that I prepared for us. And I will leave you to decide. And if you do decide to accept it, you must commit to it; you must give it a chance or say good-bye to me forever.”

And as he said
forever
, my lungs failed to function, and my heart tried to keep up with the blood that coursed through my veins, but it was devastating.

“Where are you going?” I asked as Alexander stood and began dressing.

Alexander responded with a stern conviction. “I have to leave. I need you to fully understand that your lust cannot be part of the reason to move forward. Lust subsides and reality sets in. I need you to be fully aware and to completely comprehend and accept what I am proposing. And if you cannot, I don’t want to be here to be tormented by you sending me away again.”

I remained sitting but grabbed his hand and held it to my cheek, praying that this could actually work, hoping that what I was about to read wasn’t a deal breaker. “Please don’t leave. Stay with me,” I begged.

But he shook his head no. “You will know what to do once you’ve read the contract, should you decide to sign it.”

He pulled his hand out from my grip and walked toward my front door.

“Alexander,” I called, causing him to pause before he could leave. “I…I didn’t have sex with him or anyone—since you.” I felt like though we had been apart, I needed him to know that there hadn’t been another person to take his place.