Chapter 24

D espite a rocky start, the day unfolds splendidly. Lex follows my advice and talks with Brian to appease the tension that accumulated during breakfast. We get to enjoy more conferences, discover more companies, and then return to the hotel for the evening.

It's apparently tradition to participate in the nerdy trivia held in the hotel's bar, and for the first time ever, there's an all-Kelex team.

"Oh, wow. You look like a woman," Brian says when I arrive in the lobby, ready for the evening.

"She is a woman, you moron," Mace defends me with a confused expression.

"I know, but she looks like one right now."

I get what he means, so I'm not offended. My black dress has a scoop neck and tight sleeves to my elbows. The skirt's hem goes mid-thigh but is loose enough to not look too audacious. I tried wearing the heels I brought but ended up in my black Chucks. My hair is up with loads of pins, and adding to my winged eyeliner, I have bold red lips.

I feel like a woman. A desirable one, I hope, knowing Lex is joining us for trivia.

"Gentlemen." Speak of the devil… Startled, I spin toward him. His smoldering eyes scan me from head to toe, which means I succeeded. He quickly regains control of himself and bows his head slightly. "Andrea."

I nod back, sure my voice will fail me if I talk. Fuck me dead and bury me pregnant. The man is temptation incarnate.

If there's one thing I like more than Lex wearing a suit, it's Lex doing it casually . He's still wearing his charcoal pants and black shirt, but he ditched the jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and opened another button, revealing a triangle of chest hair. Also, his glasses are poking out of his chest pocket, and if he whips those out during the evening, I'll lose it.

Before I can get too much into my lust-filled thoughts, the others arrive. Upon seeing me, Oli gives me an appreciative grin. Not wanting to encourage him or let him think this is for him, I give him the slightest smile and focus back on the others.

I'm the first to enter our designated booth to the right. Lex enters via the left, and it's only when we're both seated that I realize we'll be this close the whole evening.

I flash him an alarmed glance, unsure this is a good idea. Either he doesn't notice, or he doesn't care because he does nothing about it. Alright, I'll just have to focus on the questions, the people around us, and my very near colleagues. Anything but Lex.

The trivia organizers hand every team a tablet. Steven takes charge of it, and the evening of fun starts. Our ultimate goal is to beat the Avoss team—the usual winners. Sipping on my beer, I lean back in my seat, amused by how determined to win everyone is. Shortly after, Lex does the same thing and nonchalantly spreads his knees, as if he's relaxing. It results in our legs touching, which sends a shiver up my body. When I send him a disapproving look, his knowing expression makes it clear it's on purpose.

The table hides our illicit contact, but I still don't feel comfortable with it. Just a little, I move away and break the connection, imperceptibly shaking my head at him.

Before he can attempt something else, the game begins.

Bill—tonight's host—asks the questions, and then we have one minute to discuss it, plus an extra fifteen seconds to enter our answer on the tablet.

With our seven brains put together, we're doing pretty good and getting every answer right. All this enthusiasm could almost have distracted me enough to forget about Lex's closeness. But his fucking brain is in the way.

While he sucks at most pop culture questions, he's extraordinary with everything else. I'm amazed by his knowledge, as he doesn't just give answers but also shares dates and facts for each of them.

By the end of the first series of questions, we're on top, tied with Avoss and another team.

"You're doing great," someone says behind us. I hear Lex grunt with annoyance and know it's Hugh before I even turn around. "How about we make it a little more interesting?" the Avoss executive offers. "The swag bags are nice, but they're low stakes."

"What are you suggesting?" Lex asks, unimpressed .

"We all know how these business trips only pay for basic expenses, alcohol excluded, so how about the losing team pays for the winning team's drinks tonight?"

Lex considers it, gauging our team and Hugh's. "Deal," he eventually accepts. They shake on it, and Hugh confidently goes back to his table.

If I thought Lex was brilliant during the first round, it's nothing compared to the second one. The man is a fucking encyclopedia, and I enjoy his display of gray matter a little too much.

The sapiosexual in me melts a little more with each of his answers. To the point where it becomes harder and harder for me to focus on the game. Every time the man opens his mouth, I have to clench my legs to hush the growing need between them.

I'm in serious trouble.

My head drifts out of the game, and my mind goes into some blurry state. I'm feeling hot, almost feverish. Pure lust is running through my veins, and the need to be alone with Lex grows stronger with every passing moment. I can hear the guys' voices around me, but I can't make out what they're saying.

I'm uncharacteristically silent, and Lex notices. "Are you alright?" he whispers, bending slightly. Our shoulders touch, and I need him to back off. My hunger for him is too fucking great for even that. Not meeting his eyes, I nod.

"What's wrong?" he insists, not duped.

With clenched teeth, I dare to look up at him. He studies my face for a split second, and then understands what's happening to me. A triumphant smile drags the corners of his lips up, his pupils tripling in size.

His attention seemingly returns to the guys, but then his large hand settles on my inner thigh, just above my knee, making me jump. I squeeze my thighs together before he can go any further, careful not to make a fuss. Bill is talking again, and the guys aren't paying us any attention.

Lex looks remarkably smug as he slides his hand higher up my leg. Since my threatening scowl isn't enough to make him stop, I cross my arms before me on the table and lean forward so no one can see what's happening down there.

My overly aroused state and the thrill of being caught causes intense shivers to run through my body. Bill is done with his question, so the guys all focus back on the center of the table. With his hand still slowly trying to push itself between my clamped legs, Lex leans forward, his attitude inconspicuous.

Under the table, his tactics change, and instead of aiming for the sealed space between my thighs, he moves up and slips his fingers over the covered mound of my intimacy, trying to gain access. "Star Trek II, The Wrath of Khan, in 1982," he tells the group.

When the tips of his fingers get to the soaked lace low on my panties, his advance halts, as do his words, but after a second, he resumes. "Graphics Group did it, from Lucasfilm, now known as Pixar." It's uncanny how inconspicuous he can sound while his fingers graze the front of my core.

This is crazy. I enjoy his touch too much to fight him, but every brain cell not focused on him is screaming I should stop it.

Lex presses a little harder, right where my clit is, and I almost let out a moan, biting the inside of my cheek.

The guys are now talking about something else, but I can't say what, as Lex's fingers are now torturing me with slow rolls. My legs are still tightly clenched, and it's hard to resist the urge to spread them.

Bill talks again, and Lex uses this distraction to slowly bend toward me to pour the most scandalous request into my ear. "Open for me, Andrea. Your cunt is starving for my touch, isn't it?"

His crude words hit me hard, and I almost whimper from the acute shiver they unleash. Powerless, I send him a pleading look, utterly disconcerted by my overwhelming desire for him.

"I know," he whispers. "Spread your legs so I can take care of it."

This time, I helplessly obey. My knees part, a glimmer of victory flashing in his gaze. As the guys try to find the next answer, Lex toys with the elastic of my underwear. He tugs it to the side, and I shiver from head to toe when two of his fingers slide along my molten slit, sensing just how turned on I am. In the corner of my eye, I see his jaw clench, his hand tensing under my dress.

He isn't destabilized for long, and his two fingers lower on my intimacy and dip inside my tight entrance. Miraculously, I don't make a sound, but I poorly hide the small jolt my body does.

Fuck.

I can't believe this is happening. He's slowly, leisurely thrusting his thick fingers inside me while the guys are right there. Terrified that someone might know, I peer at my colleagues. When I meet Oliver's gaze, my heart tightens as my entire body freezes.

Shit, I'm the fucking worst. Lex's fingers are fucking me under the table while Oli is almost at arm's reach. To my great relief, the latter has no clue what is happening. It gives me the determination I need to shove Lex's hand away in a manner I hope isn't obvious.

The guys are still busy debating over our next answer, so Oli returns his attention to that instead.

As for myself, I look up at Lex and observe with widened eyes as he casually brings his hand to his mouth. Stunned, I stare as he engulfs his fingers one by one to taste me, licking off my juices from them. It isn't suspicious, as we've been doing the same thing all evening, licking away Doritos dust from the tips of our fingers.

But it isn't Doritos on his tongue right now.

My clit throbs even harder than when he was teasing it.

A new question is asked about a minute later, and the guys focus back on us. "Ronald Wayne owned ten percent. He sold it for eight hundred dollars in 1976," Lex answers, not wasting a second. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll return before the game resumes." Steven and Joseph move so he can leave.

Oh, we're already at the twenty-minute break? Somehow confused, I stay seated, trying to think through my arousal. What the hell just happened?

My phone buzzes in my bag, and I take it out. It's a message from Lex.

Lex

Your room.

Is this… Are we doing this? It doesn't sound reasonable, but neither does sitting there in my wetness, unable to contain myself.

The phone buzzes again.

Lex

Now.

Oh, well …

Me

On my way

Minutes later, I'm with him. We enter my room, and Lex impatiently plasters me against the door. He bends to take my lips, but I turn my face away. I can't go back downstairs with smudged lipstick.

Before I can explain my refusal, he catches my drift and opts for my throat instead, tasting the soft skin there. Before I know it, my underwear is on the floor, his dick is sheathed in latex, and he impales me on it with a firm thrust.

"Aah… Shit," I whimper at the sudden intrusion. It's the first time he's entered me without lengthy foreplay, and I understand why he's always so adamant about making me come before penetration. It's painful but in a good kind of way. The ache of the stretch almost adds to the pleasure, even.

"Are you alright?" he asks with worry.

"Yes. You're just… so fucking big."

"And you're so fucking tight."

He attempts a few small nudges, and the discomfort recedes fast, almost entirely gone already. Writhing my hips against him and tangling my fingers in his hair, I encourage him to go harder. His momentum builds up, and he gives me longer thrusts, implacable. Damn, I'll never get enough of this…

"Tell me. How did you get so wet back at the bar?"

I'm tempted to kiss him, so I voraciously settle my tongue in the hollow spot between his collarbones. With one lascivious motion, I drag it up the firm column of his throat, passing over his Adam's apple, which bobs uncontrollably. I lick past his chin, his stubble tickling my tongue. His taste is intoxicating, a little salty and earthy, and it works on me like the most potent of aphrodisiacs.

"Answer me," he commands with a harsher thrust.

"Some smartass with a big brain triggered the sapiosexual in me." His satisfied, wicked smirk has me pulsing around his hammering dick.

"Is that so? Intelligence gets you off?"

"Perhaps that's why you're so good at making me come," I reply with fierceness.

He chuckles hoarsely and then brings his lips right against my ear, still thrusting inside me, still pinning me onto the door. "Three," he rasps. "One. Four. One. Five…"

With each number comes a punch of his cock, and they grow faster and deeper as he goes. When I understand what he's doing, a breathy laugh pours out of me, quickly dismissed by throaty moans. As hot as it is, I end up focusing on the numbers more than the sex to make sure he isn't messing up Pi.

Eventually, I put my hand over his mouth to make him shut up. "Less talking, more fucking," I order, panting.

He smiles under my palm, his amused eyes locked on mine. He braces himself, repositioning his feet, and I know it means shit is getting serious.

He plows into me hard, shoving the entirety of his shaft inside of me each time, hitting my clit with the base of it. I'm so wet we can hear it, along with the rhythmic sound of our embrace, the ruffle of our clothes, the metallic buckle of his belt slapping between us…

It's freakishly hot that we're both fully dressed, with only my underwear off. It's the first time in my life that I'm having sex like this. Like it's impossible to stop. Like we have to do it or implode.

"Fuck! Yes! Aah… Don't stop!"

He keeps thrusting as I shatter in his arms, his weight heavy against me to contain my blissful convulsions. While he seeks his own climax by ramming into me with intensity, he triggers a second orgasm, less intense than the first one. My shaky cries answer his loud groans as he comes with jerky moves .

For about a minute, he keeps me pressed on the door while we both pant, trying to get back to the land of the living.

His eyes linger on my lips when he looks down, and I know what he wants. A peck won't smudge my lipstick, so I extend my neck to press my mouth on his. I stay there for several seconds and move back. He licks his lips with hunger, clearly wishing there could be more to it.

He lowers me to the floor, only letting me go when he's sure my legs will hold me. I watch as he slips the condom out and ties a knot. We're not doing the environment any favor with how much of these we go through, are we?

"I couldn't wait until later tonight to have you. You're so fucking alluring when you're horny," he rasps, softly kissing my temple.

The notion of a "later tonight" brings an unwelcome realization. "Shit… I can't come to your room anymore. And you can't come here either—the guys are just down the hall."

He fishes out something from his back pocket, his pants still low on his hips, and hands me a key card. My eyes widen when I see the number on it. 504.

"You booked another room?"

"I did."

Knowing he's as eager as I am to share more of these intimate moments fills me with joy and contentment. I throw the card on the bed behind him, giving him a delighted grin. As I walk toward the bathroom, he stops me, grabbing me by the waist and pressing my back onto his front, his lips grazing the length of my throat. I'm tempted to give in, even though it isn't reasonable.

"Lex… We need to get back downstairs," I protest.

"We still have six minutes to be there on time," he argues, his tongue leaving a burning wet line along my jugular.

"We already used your emergency condom," I try.

"I have two more in my wallet."

I laugh, amused by that fact. "Overkill much?"

"Not with you, no."

I'm pressed onto the door again, but with my front this time, and he greedily pulls on my dress to unveil my bare lower half. "Don't you ever get soft?" I complain when he presses his hardening dick between the mounds of my ass.

"Not when you're around."

He grinds into me, getting himself fully hard again, and I allow it, too weak to refuse him. But just as I accept that we'll fuck again, everything comes to an abrupt end.

Not only do the three knocks on my door resonate loudly in my ears, but I also feel their vibrations on my front .

We both instantly freeze.

"Who is it?" I hesitantly ask.

"It's me," comes Oliver's voice.

"The fuck is he doing here?" Lex mutters right before I push myself away from the door. Filled with dreadful panic, I turn around to meet his irritated scowl.

"Give me a moment," I answer to Oli.

I hastily pick up the discarded condom that he dropped on the floor and Lex lets me push him all the way to the bathroom despite his irked glare at the door. Once in there, I shove him into a corner, throw the condom in the trash, and grab a small towel. Ignoring any sense of elegance or class, I quickly drag it between my legs to wipe the wet mess Lex conjured. I throw it toward the bathtub, but Lex intercepts it and uses it to wipe himself as well. My heart is in my throat as I return to the room.

"Stay here, don't make a sound," I command. He looks pissed, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark, but I don't have time for this.

"Are you alright?" Oliver asks from outside.

"Yes! I'm coming!"

"You already did, actually. Twice ," Lex mutters from the bathroom. "All over my cock."

Unamused, I give him a warning glare, which he answers with an eye roll. I rush to a drawer and grab the first pair of underwear I can find. After swiftly putting them on, I spot my previous pair lying there, drenched and rolled up. Mindlessly, I throw them toward the bathroom. Lex cocks his eyebrow at me when it lands on his chest, his hand grabbing it out of reflex. When I gesture for him to move back, he gives me another one of his disapproving scowls before complying.

After a quick and deep breath, I open the door. The whole thing was quick, so I'm not sweaty and don't think I reek of sex. Hopefully, I also don't have Lex's scent on me. I'm undoubtedly still flushed, though. I open the door, doing my best to control my breathing.

"Hi! I'm good to go."

"Where's your jacket?"

Fuck. That's the excuse I gave the guys when I came up here.

"Oh, right. I went to the bathroom and forgot. Good call."

I fetch my red jacket and return. " Vámonos ," I say enthusiastically, eyeing the half-closed door of my bathroom one last time.

The elevator's mirror informs me that my face isn't overly red, my hair isn't a mess, and apart from my sparkly eyes, one could never guess I was just thoroughly fucked against a door .

Because I'm so preoccupied with my situation, I don't even wonder why Oli came up to get me, and it doesn't occur to ask. A few steps into the lobby, he stops me, reaching for my arm.

"Are we okay?" he asks.

"What do you mean?"

"You've been avoiding me since we left Seattle. Things are weird between us."

I avert my gaze, looking around and wondering what to answer. Yes, I've become distant—not because I don't want to spend time with him, but because I'm unsure how to act around him. I told him I might never be ready for him, and I don't want to hurt him by insisting we might never become a thing. He'll just get over me on his own at some point.

"It's because you've met someone, right?" he asks. I say nothing again, but my silence is an answer in and of itself. In his eyes, I read the pain I'm causing, and I hate myself for it.

Because I must have been Hitler or Zedong in my previous life, my terrible karma acts up, and Lex notices us on his way out of the elevator. His eyes lock on Oli's hand, still on my arm, and his chiseled jaw clenches with anger. Fuck .

"Is it serious between you and that guy?" Oli asks, oblivious.

Lex is close enough to hear that, and if I had any doubt, the way his brows furrow confirms that he did. He stays there, pretending to check something on his phone. Why is this happening? How did I go from some incredible slex to this? Five minutes ago, I was swimming in ecstasy, and now all I want is to dig a hole and disappear into it.

It's a great fucking dilemma. I can't tell Oli it isn't serious because he'll get ideas and think there's still a chance. But I also can't tell him it is serious because Lex is listening, and all I can think of are the harsh words he said back in his office.

I don't do relationships, Andrea. And you don't seem like someone who does what I do.

"No. It's not," I bluntly say. Oli finds my answer reassuring enough to let go of my arm.

As for Lex, his stoic expression is unreadable when I peek at him. He puts his phone away and resumes his walk to the bar. That's what I was supposed to answer, right? We're just having fun. The opposite of serious.

Oli interrupts my overthinking with, "So you're not actually seeing someone?"

"Oli… I told you I might never be ready for you. You can't wait for me because I can't promise anything."

"I said I would. "

"And I'm telling you not to," I retort, hoping it isn't too harsh. "We should get back. I don't want to miss the next round."

Not waiting for his answer, I return to the bar. The guys move to let me get to my seat, and I'm back next to Lex. He doesn't even glance at me, probably still in a dark mood from being abandoned with a hard-on. It can't be good on the nerves, but he has to understand I didn't have a choice.

The three of us are completely out of it. I'm preoccupied, Oli is pensive, and Lex is ruminating. Thank God the other four members of our team are still focused enough so that we win by literally one point. The Lex-Men —as Steven registered us—are this year's trivia winners, and our drinks are on Hugh.

The other teams in the bar applaud, we stand up to thank them, and the effervescence slowly tones down. We all end up exchanging congratulatory hugs, and when it's Lex's turn, I swiftly change my mind. Instead of hugging, we share a very impersonal handshake, barely meeting each other's eyes.

Something is wrong between us, but I don't get it. What's his problem? He's acting as if I asked Oli to come up to my room. If he's mad because I prioritized Oli over him out of some sense of possessiveness, then it's not my problem.

He made it clear this wasn't a relationship, so what's his deal? We aren't together; he can't expect anything from me unless he's being my boss. That's the deal. He didn't believe I could do this no-strings-attached thing, but I'll prove him wrong.

"Oh! He's coming," Mason whisper-shouts. We all try to act inconspicuously as Hugh walks up to us.

"I guess I misjudged your team, Alexander," the man says, sounding arrogant even though he lost his bet.

"You did."

"I'll go pay for your drinks. What was it? Fourteen beers and three servings of nachos?" Shit, we should have ordered more to make the asshole regret his haughtiness.

"I don't think so, no," Lex stops him, spreading confusion around our table. "We shook on the evening's bill, and the evening is still young. We'll send you the bill when the bar closes."

After exchanging some excited looks at each other, we bite back our grins. I regret facing away from Hugh because I'm dying to see his face. He doesn't say anything for a while and eventually clears his throat. "Alright, it's only fair. I'll tell the bar to put your tab on my room," he agrees with annoyance.

With that, he leaves us. When he's far enough, the guys turn to Lex, who sits down. "Before you all ask for top-shelf bottles, I'll set a limit," he explains. "I don't want to have to argue with the prick. Don't let the amount exceed two thousand dollars."

It's a lot for seven people, despite the hotel's high prices, and we'll surely get shit-faced with all that. Which isn't exactly a great idea, given we're on a professional trip. As if he can hear my thoughts, Lex adds, "You can have your morning off to recuperate, but be in the C hall at two for the conference about the future of algorithms."

His proposal is received with enthusiastic nods, and some of us don't waste time ordering drinks from a waiter who passes by. "I'll leave you be. Don't make a scene."

I watch him leave the bar, wondering what I should do. Somewhere in my room, I still have the 504 key. I'd rather celebrate with him there than get drunk. But he clearly has a problem with me for some reason, all broody and aloof. For once, I'll stay strong and not give in until he apologizes for being a distant ass.

He doesn't deserve sex right now.

I should have swallowed my pride and stayed downstairs with the others. But if I did, I probably would have done something we would both have regretted.

How could Andrea be so blatantly disrespectful? We're not serious, no, but how could she make herself available to Oliver right in front of me? And minutes after I fucked her, probably still sensing me between her legs.

I've always known that if it were her choice, she'd rather be intimate with Oliver than with me, but one cannot always choose who their body longs for. And as much as I hate to admit it, he's much more suited for her than I'll ever be. I've seen them interact, so I know they get along better than we do. We're fucking until one of us gets over it, and then we'll move on. And if things go according to her wishes, she'll move on with him .

The thought angers me infinitely more than it should. She isn't mine, and I don't want her to be. But the thought of sharing her has a ball of rage coiling in my stomach.

The sex is so fantastic that I can't even fathom being interested in another woman at the moment. I won't be entertaining the idea for a while, actually. So, I despise the fact that she's still keeping Oliver close, already thinking of what comes after us .

With a dry slam, I shut my laptop and throw it on the couch next to me. I've been trying to work since returning upstairs, but my mind is too clouded. When I check my watch, it's later than I expected. I've had no news from my team downstairs, but I imagine the bar is closed by now. Or it will be soon enough. Should I go check?

But then, I'd have to see Andrea again, and I'm not sure how to act around her.

They're grown adults. They can handle themselves.

I'm on my way to the bathroom when my phone buzzes in my pocket. My eyebrows come together when I see it's a text from Andrea. I open it, and the message that appears only deepens my confusion.

Andrea Walker

Goinh to the.secrt room ????????

Just how drunk is she, exactly? I'm still trying to decode whatever the emojis mean when another text comes in.

Andrea Walker

????

This makes even less sense. Three more messages rapidly appear, though.

Andrea Walker

Wait no

????

^this one

That, I understand.

She really expects me to come crawling after the way she behaved? We're into this for the sex, but I'm not a sex toy that can be discarded and summoned whenever she needs a good fuck.

I dismiss her messages, adamant to leave her hanging. But by the time I'm in bed with my laptop in another attempt at being efficient, remorse has made its way into my mind. Her texts indicated that she was heavily intoxicated. The hotel's hallways are probably empty at this hour, and anything could happen to her. I need to check on her and make sure she's alright.

With my jeans back on, as well as my sneakers, I exit my room and walk to the elevators. As I suspected, the place looks deserted. Snatching up a petite woman like her would be child's play, and no one would notice until it was too late.

My guts are twisted with anguish by the time I reach room 504. If something happened to her between her text and now, I'll never forgive myself. I should have at least responded to let her know I wouldn't come, so she would have stayed in her room.

The door unlocks with a blip , and I quickly step in. The lights are on, and I immediately spot her lying on the bed, brown curls sprawled around her sleeping face. She's still wearing her clothes, except for her shoes—kicked at the foot of the bed. There's a slight snore that filters out of her parted lips, in rhythm with the ups and downs of her chest.

As soon as I see she's alright, I let out a reassured breath.

Although I should spin around and return to my room, I let my feet carry me further in. The tip of her nose is an adorable shade of pink, I suppose because of the alcohol.

It's no wonder she drives me insane. She's the prettiest woman I've ever seen, with those lips, the thick fringes of her lashes, the freckles sprinkled on her nose and cheeks… I lose my mind around her because, like most men, I'm genetically engineered to want the most beautiful women for my progeny. It's a future that'll never happen for me, but the primitive side of my brain doesn't know that, does it?

When the perfect arches of her eyebrows twitch and frown, I lower myself to one knee and pass a soothing thumb over it.

Andrea's frown dissipates, but then her eyes flutter open. Shit , I curse internally.

"Hey, Clark," she mumbles with a naughty smile.

Who the fuck is Clark? I knew about Oliver, but is there a third man in this race, battling for her affection?

Before I can let this new surge of jealousy bring back my anger, she drunkenly reaches for my glasses and pulls them away from my face. "Hey, Kal-El," she giggles this time.

Oh… I'm Clark. Or I'm the fantasy of him.

Ever since I was eleven, I've been going by Lex, after Superman's nemesis, Lex Luthor. Already then, I was cerebral, calculating, and out of touch with my classmates, easily discarded as a weird child. I've always been more like the villain than the superheroes who bravely fight him. But Andrea doesn't see me this way, does she? For some reason, she associates me with Superman, one of the most virtuous and beloved superheroes.

I'm not sure what to make of that or what it means. Am I not weird to her? She disliked me so much during the first few weeks that she shouldn't see me as the hero, should she?

"I knew you'd come," she whispers with a smile, rising to her elbow for a kiss.

Her attempt is slow and imprecise, so I could easily stop her. But I let her, smelling and tasting the alcohol on her tongue.

"Couldn't resist this bomb pussy, could you?" she then whispers, dragging her lips to my jaw.

"I just came to make sure you were alright. I'm leaving."

"I'm not alright, Lex. I'm so needy…"

She grabs my hand to guide it between her legs. Before it reaches its destination, I pull my wrist free. "I'm not fucking you drunk, Andrea."

I stand and take a couple of steps away from her before she can do anything else.

"You almost fucked me drunk that first time in your car," she reminds me with a pout.

"But you weren't drunk, were you? You were tipsy."

To shut her up, I bend forward to give her a quick kiss as I snatch my glasses from her loose grip and then turn on my heels to leave her there. She calls out my name, but I ignore her. This isn't happening, no matter what she says. Not only is she too intoxicated to give genuine consent, but I'm also still mad at her for her behavior with Oliver.

We're not serious, right? Well, drunk sex is for serious relationships.