Chapter 240
FAYE
I wasn’t insecure.
I knew that about myself. I’d never been the type to spiral over shadows or imagined threats. Still, discomfort didn’t always come from insecurity. Sometimes it came from awareness–from knowing yourself well enough to recognize when something, if left unspoken, could quietly grow teeth.
That was what this was.
So I decided I would talk to Alexander about it. Not tonight–maybe not even directly–but soon. Before my thoughts got ahead of me. Before overthinking turned a harmless feeling into
something ugly.
For now, I lay stretched across the bed, staring up at the ceiling while my mind drifted lazily from
one thought to another. Alexander had gone to check on his mother, to make sure she was settled in for the night. Knowing Helen, that likely meant more than just making sure she had blankets and tea. There would be conversation–the kind layered with history, silences, and things only a mother
and son like them could share.
I didn’t mind waiting.
I was just beginning to drift when I heard movement outside–soft footsteps, then the door. The handle turned, and the bedroom door opened.
Alexander stepped inside, already exhaling as if the weight of the day had finally caught up with
him.
“Sorry,” he said casually, running a hand through his hair as he closed the door behind him. “I didn’t mean to keep you up. My mom just… had a lot to talk about.”
I smiled, propping myself up on my elbows. “It’s fine.”
Then, tilting my head, I added playfully, “Still can’t believe I had to push you before you realized you needed to convince her to stay the night.”
He paused mid–step, eyes narrowing in mock offense. “A push?” he repeated. “Is that what we’re calling it? Not an assault?”
I laughed. “Oh, please.”
He rolled up his sleeve dramatically. “I have a bruise, you know. Right here. Emotional and physical.
I squinted at his arm. “I see absolutely nothing.”
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“That’s because you choose not to,” he said solemnly, then pouted, his lips pulling into an exaggerated sulk. “I may never recover.”
I burst out laughing, unable to help myself.
+25 Poets
Moments like this always caught me off guard. This man–right now–looked nothing like the leader of a powerful pack. He looked like a boy teasing his mate for attention, whining theatrically just to make me laugh.
And it worked.
“I’m sorry,” I said between giggles.
He straightened. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it.”
I raised a brow. “Oh?”
“Absolutely not.”
I patted the bed. “Then come here. Let me inspect the damage and make it better.”
His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed beside me. He stretched out comfortably, arm extended as though offering himself up for examination.
“Show me the spot,” I said seriously.
He pointed vaguely to his arm.
I leaned in, studying it with exaggerated focus. “Hmm,” I murmured. “This looks… tragic.”
“See?” he said smugly.
“There’s nothing here,” I whispered, then blew gently against his skin anyway, as if soothing an invisible wound. My fingers followed, massaging lightly. “Better?”
He hummed thoughtfully. “No.”
I smiled to myself.
A mischievous thought crossed my mind.
Slowly, deliberately, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his palm. Then another. And another- each one trailing upward along his arm. I felt the tension in his body shift almost immediately, his breathing changing as I kissed my way to his wrist, then his forearm.
“How about now? ” I murmured.
“Keep going,” he said softly.
I went higher–his arm, his shoulder–then along the warm line of his neck. My fingers worked carefully, undoing one button at a time as my lips followed the path downward, over his chest,
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lingering just enough to make him inhale sharply.
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His hands rested at his sides, his body relaxing under my touch–trusting, receptive. I could hear it
in his breathing, feel it in the way his muscles softened beneath my hands.
I kissed lower still, brushing over his abs, taking my time, letting the moment stretch.
Then… I stopped.
I pulled back abruptly, sitting upright with the most Innocent expression I could manage.
“There,” I said brightly. “You’re fine now.”
Alexander’s eyes flew open in surprise.
For a heartbeat, he just stared at me–properly stared–like his brain had short–circuited.
Then realization hit.
“Oh,” he drawled, eyes narrowing as a slow grin tugged at his mouth. “So that’s what you’re doing.”
I didn’t even bother pretending to be innocent.
He shook his head, clicked his tongue, and lightly swatted my hand away before pushing himself off the bed. “You’re absolutely evil,” he said, already turning toward the closet.
That was all it took.
I burst out laughing–full, unrestrained, stomach–hurting laughter. I rolled onto my back, clutching a pillow as he disappeared into the closet, still muttering under his breath.
It felt so good to finally get him back.
Alexander lived for teasing me. He thrived on it. He poked, provoked, watched my reactions like it was his personal entertainment. And now–I’d flipped the script and caught him completely off
guard.
Hearing him rustle around in the closet while I laughed like I’d just won something felt incredibly satisfying.
Worth it. Completely, undeniably worth it.
By the time he came back from his bath, I suddenly remembered I’d forgotten to mention Diana’s
visit.
“There’s something I forgot to tell you,” I said, propping myself up on one elbow.
He glanced at me while toweling his hair. “Forgot what?”
“Diana was here earlier this evening.”
That got his attention.
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