Page 92 of Any Means Necessary

“You didn’t mind me controlling you a few seconds ago.”

“I’m serious, Callum. I’m not a problem for you to handle.” What’s happened to Lexie that makes her so terrified of being tied to someone else? An abusive ex?

Who hurt her?

The thought makes me want to start demanding names. I’ll drown them in gasoline, light a match, and watch their entire world burn with a smile on my face.

When I reach for her, she sits up to look me in the eye. I turn my head to meet her gaze head on. I’m not hiding from this conversation, there can’t be anything left up for interpretation between us. The sooner we get this cleared up, the better.

“I’d never smother your spark, Lexie. I like your fire. I don’t want to control you, you’re perfect just the way you are.” Like the fucking sun that gives life to everything under its rays. And I’m a selfish bastard addicted to her warmth.

Chapter Thirty-Four: Callum

Laying in our bed, my head lays nestled in my favorite spot between Lexie’s breasts. Her hand absentmindedly strokes through my hair and down the bare skin of my spine.

The last week has been spent eating, talking, and fucking. Lexie and I haven’t left the penthouse, barely making it out of the bedroom. I make her beg to come, then I make her come until she begs me to stop.

If I’m not sitting with Lexie on the livingroom couch while she watches reality tv with my laptop, she’s on the sofa in my office sketching while I work at my desk. We cook together, eat together, sleep together. There’s been a shift towards a romantic relationship. The words haven’t been said, but I can feel the difference.

I think about telling Lexie the truth, that I’m in love with her. The feeling grows every second I’m with her. But I don’t want to risk scaring her off, and I’m not about to ruin what we currently have. I know we’ll get there, I’ll tell her when she’s ready to hear it.

“Tell me about your family,” I say, relaxing against the warmth of her. Lexie’s body shifts beneath me, tensing slightly. I’ve gotten so attune with her body it’s obvious my question has struck a nerve.

“I have a sister, Samantha. She’s two years younger than me,” she says. There’s something she’s not saying, a subject she doesn’t want to talk about. But I want it, whatever that secret is. I need to know every part of her.

“And your parents?” I prompt. She clears her throat softly, resituating on the pillow. A lock of her hair falls over my face, I can’t help but press my nose into her and inhale deeply. Her hair, her skin.

She always smells so fucking good.

“We don’t talk.” Despite her effort to sound casual, I can sense there’s far more to the story. If Lexie’s not in contact with her family, something happened to make her cut ties. Anger ripples through me at the thought.

“What did they do?” There’s darkness beneath my question, a short temper threatening to be set loose. I know she hears it.

“What makes you think they did something to me?” She tries her best to deny it, to talk her way around having this conversation. I’m not having any of that.

“Because I know you, Dewdrop. You’re far too forgiving. You wouldn’t cut someone out of your life unless they did something really fucked up to deserve it. You haven’t stopped talking to me.”

“I probably should,” she says softly. There’s no conviction in her voice, and I know I don’t have to worry. “You’ve done some pretty fucked up things of your own.”

She’s right, I have.

“You’ll never be rid of me. What did they do?” The question is met by silence. “Either you tell me, or I’ll track them down and get the answers myself.”

“My parents are very… strict.” She struggles to find the right word, not sounding satisfied with the description she came up with.

“Religious?” She shakes her head at my question, letting out a humorless laugh.

“No, they don’t believe in God. They don’t believe in anything—except maybe the powerball.”

“But you do.” I’ve noticed the way she prays for little things, the way she speaks to God like he’s listening at every moment.

“I do believe in God,” she agrees easily. “I’ve seen enough people die and brought back to life to believe there’s something after this life.” We’re getting off track, so I steer the conversation back to the answers I want.

“What were they strict about?”

Lexie takes a deep breath, holding it in for a second before letting it out slowly. “Absolutely everything. They hated wasting things on me and my sister.”

“What do you mean waste?” I ask deeply, my jaw tightening. My temper is already flaring, and she hasn’t even begun her story yet.

---