Only You

Chapter 35

Elora

Alexey and I are cuddling, both our bodies warm and slick with a sheen of sweat from the exercise we just put them through. One of his hands is moving up and down my left arm, letting me soak up the warmth and comfort that I hadn't known I needed previous to him staying with me on our last date.

As promised, he stayed with me until I fell asleep. As promised, he was gone in the morning. I was surprised to wake up happier than I remember ever being despite his absence.

I open my eyes and they instantly find their way to the colorful ink peeking out on his right side. It took me a long time to first notice the tattoo that practically hugs the entirety of his right ribcage, starting at his back and reaching the outer inches of his front.

I let my fingers wander to trail the ink, faltering just slightly when he stiffens in a way I'm all too familiar with. Aware that this might be a sensitive topic but too curious to stop myself from asking altogether, I soften my voice before speaking.

"What's the story behind this?" I ask him. If nothing else, after all the answers and honesty Alexey has demanded from me, I feel a little entitled to this one story. Not just that but recently, my innocent curiosity about this man has turned into the need to get to know him better. With every little part he revealed of himself, I found myself craving more.

"That's not a very lovely story, Sunshine," he told me. "Maybe we should just keep bathing in the glow of our post-birthday-present-exhaustion, yes?" He turns his head and presses his lips to the crown of my head, nearly making me forget all about my curiosity.

I hum and tilt my head to look at him. "As lovely as that sounds, how about you tell me about it and I'll do my best to make sure you're still fine afterward? Let the roles be reversed for once, you know?"

For a second, he doesn't answer but before I can worry too much about having crossed a line, he sighs and nods. "But only because it's your birthday," he teases me.

He figured out it was my birthday when I ordered a glass of wine in the restaurant instead of having one already waiting for me. While I hadn't planned on telling him, it sure turned out to be a good thing he found out. Of course, Alexey always manages to make me feel good, no matter what we do back in this hotel room. But today- well, today he outdid himself, making me feel more cherished than ever.

Taking my hand in his, he moves my fingers further down the side of his ribs until they finally meet a spot of elevated skin. A scar. A very long one, at that. From what I can feel, it reaches all the way to his back in a single, deep slash. I suck in a choked breath.

"Yeah," Alexey mutters, his body tensed. "Tattoos aren't too welcome in my line of work but it's better than parading around scars, so I had it covered," he explains.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Car accident, Sweetheart. I had a fractured rib and a collapsed lung so it could've ended much worse than this. They only barely managed to save me with a posterolateral thoracotomy." He blows out a breath, his hand absently continuing its caress on my arm. "That fucking surgery," he mumbles.

Deciding not to push him on that last little comment since I don't think it was meant for my ears, I ask instead, "How old were you?"

"Twenty. Still went to college back then but after-" he clears his throat. "I had to drop out after that."

My brows crease and my chest aches for the kind man in my arms. Unsure what else to do, I change position and crawl up his body to press my lips to his, hoping to communicate through that all the things I'm not sure how to say.

"What was your major?"

"Business," he tells me, his voice bittersweet with longing and something I'm not sure how to read.

"You can't go back? Take courses at a community college now that you're back in shape?" I ask, trying to look for a solution while it's none of my business. Despite my best intentions, I seem to make the situation worse.

"Trust me, if there was a way, I would have gotten a degree and quit this job a long time ago," he tells me, a new edge to his voice.

I hesitate, self-preservation telling me not to keep pushing while my need to keep asking questions is telling me the opposite. I search Alexey's features and finally, the latter urge wins.

"If you hate this job, why can't you quit it?" I ask softly. Alexey gives me an exasperated look.

"It pays well, Elora. The surgery put me in dept, hence, I dropped out of school," the edge sharpens his tone but now that we've started talking, I can't seem to stop. God, I hate the healthcare system. Instead of saving lives, it destroys just as many.

"How much money are we talking about? I can give it to you," I offer, unable to stand the thought of Alexey having to keep this job if he truly hates it this much. The man below me recoils visibly and sits up, forcing me off him.

"No," he says firmly.

"Why not?" I push, frustration over his resistance becoming clear in my voice. If he's in dept, why won't he accept my help? I'm already paying him. I'd much rather give it to him as a gift than have him work for it and drag it out.

"Because, Elora. It's a lot of money!" he insists.

"I can't think of a better way to spend mine than help a friend!" I throw back at him, calling us friends since we're long past being just client and escort. Sure, my feelings toward him are anything but platonic but I wouldn't dare call us anything else. Not when I'm engaged to another man and there's no way of Alexey and I ever being anything other than friends.

"Oh, my god, just stop, Elora! That's not how the real world works. You can't just lend me thousands of dollars with no way of knowing if I could ever pay you back," he practically yells and despite the knot in my stomach at his harsh tone, I can't stop myself from repeating my earlier words.

"Why not? You need it more than me," I insist more forcefully.

"That doesn't change a thing. You are a client, Elora, you pay for my services. Don't get things twisted up in that pretty head of yours. We are not friends and I don't want that kind of strings." His raised words hit me right in the chest but before I can make one last effort to convince him and say there wouldn't be any strings, he speaks again, delivering the final blow.

"It's late. I have to go or I'll be late for my next client," he tells me, his eyes trained on his phone as he heads for the door with long strides. Without another look or word, he's gone, slamming the door shut behind him for good measure.

I stay where I am, frozen in shock and confused about how the hell things escalated so quickly.

————————
Have I made it clear that I love drama yet?

I hope u are enjoying the story so far and have a lovely day<3