Deviant Love

20 - HER

[Chapter 20]

"You will."

His confident assertion pierced through me, and I found myself staring at him, my eyes betraying the turmoil within. The swell of emotion threatened to spill over, leaving my vision blurred with unshed tears.

"Just fucking tell me," I bit back, the bitterness coating my voice like a protective layer. "If you want me to give you a chance, communicate, Alexander."

His name—once forbidden on my tongue, felt right. The way it rolled off my mouth, so familiar yet so new, held a subtle power.

I glared at him, watching as his eyes quivered in response to my words. The tension hung in the air, each passing second feeling like an eternity.

It was a battle of wills, a clash between the anger that had fueled my every action and the undeniable connection that lingered beneath the surface.

I was tired—tired of the anger, tired of the relentless internal struggle to remain indifferent. Yet, I craved to see Alexander on his knees, to witness him begging for forgiveness.

A part of me loathed this desire and despised the weakness it represented. Still, I couldn't deny the longing that simmered beneath the layers of resentment.

His eyes locked onto mine, and as he inhaled sharply, I detected a hint of vulnerability in the shake of his pupils.

"I am sorry," he whispered, the admission hanging in the charged air between us. "I moved to Italy against my will, baby. I never wanted to leave you."

His words, filled with remorse and sincerity—pulled at the strings of my conflicted heart. The admission was a revelation, a key unlocking a door I had desperately tried to keep shut. I felt the walls I had built around my emotions start to crumble, and the anger that had fueled me began to wane.

"Sorry doesn't erase six years, Alexander," I retorted, my voice now softened but laced with the remnants of bitterness. "You chose to go. You chose to leave without an explanation."

His eyes pleaded with mine, silently urging me to understand the unspoken turmoil that had driven him away. As much as I fought against it, a part of me was ready to listen, ready to grasp the answers I had craved for years.

"I was forced," he continued, his voice carrying the weight of a painful truth. "My family, they had their ways of making me comply. I had no choice."

My gaze bore into his, seeking sincerity amidst the tangled web of emotions. Family? The word hung between us.

"You found your family?" My voice emerged choked, the question carrying the weight of years of abandonment.

"Yes. And I hated every moment of it," Alexander confessed, the honesty in his eyes unmissable.

"And you couldn't even fucking text me once in six years?" I questioned, my lips forming a wry smile. The bitterness lingered in my tone, a defense mechanism against the vulnerability threatening to surface.

"I wish I could," he responded, desperation lacing his words. I wanted to believe him, yearned for the sincerity in his gaze to wash away the years of hurt. More than anything, I longed to forget.

"Kiss me."

His eyes dilated at the unexpected request, uncertainty clouding his expression.

"Kiss me, Alex," and I could feel his lips descend on mine.

His mouth, warm and demanding, descended on mine with a hunger that mirrored the years of separation. The kiss was a dance of conflicting emotions – desire, anger, and the unspoken longing that lingered beneath the surface.