Breathe For Me (For Me 1: Xander)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Patronizing bastard. Furious wasn't the word for how Chelsea felt. There were no words to describe her rage. Her hurt.

She'd finally done it--instigated, acted out a fantasy only to have it fail. 

Except it hadn't. He'd been so into it, she'd have said he loved it. But then he'd done the whole Jekyll and Hyde thing--turning into a totally different person. A side of him she'd never seen--a side she didn't believe in.

It pissed her off. Royally.

She felt like chopping his precious frickin' tee-shirt into dime-sized pieces and stuffing them into his mailbox. Except she wasn't going to go psycho-ex-lover on him. He wasn't worth it.

And she was worth more.

Twenty-four hours later she was still raging. And she'd accepted she wasn't going to walk away from this. She wasn't going to bury this for too long and have it fester.

Not this time.

She'd learned from that mistake. She was going to deal with it. Clear the air. Express her emotions. Because wasn't that part of this whole thing? Learning to communicate was part of forgiveness. Was part of being able to move on.

Well she'd just aced the art of communicating her sexual needs, now it was time for the emotional. She had to be honest. Even though she knew she wasn't going to like what he was going to say, she damn well wanted to hear it. And she wanted to tell him more than a few things too.

Because Xander Lawson was every bit as much of a coward as she'd been. Every bit as constrained in his ability to communicate. Well that was changing. This minute.

She knocked on his door. Kept knocking. She knew he was in there. She'd gotten Brad to text her the moment Xander walked through the door. He wasn't at the pool--she'd just checked that. So she was sure he was here in his apartment.

His door jerked open. He looked at her, his body language freezing. Slowly he lifted a single eyebrow as if he couldn't for the life of him understand why she was bothering him.

"You owe me answers." She barged past him, not caring if he had company. "And don't you dare say it's because I don't do it for you anymore. I can get you hard in seconds. I'm willing to bet you're hard for me now."

"Chelsea." He closed the door and turned to lean against it.

She pivoted and got right in his face. Still furious. "You wanted me to tell you what happened with Tom. You wanted me to trust you enough to open up to that. And I did. But it's a two way street. If you have a problem, it's not fair to hold back from me. Because I'm feeling like I'm failing again." She rubbed away the annoying tear that had escaped. Damn it, she hadn't wanted to get emotional, but here she was welling up already. "Don't do this to me. I played, Xander--I finally played up. For the first time I felt good about doing something sexy and silly and naughty again. I finally felt like owning my body and what I wanted from you. I felt released from that guilt. And I loved  it. So if that isn't what has you going so cold, then you need to tell me. Because this isn't fair." She'd been through too much.

"Chelsea." Her name was wrenched from him. "It wasn't you. It's not you. You're..." He didn't finish. Instead he put his hands on her shoulders--but didn't draw her close. Rather he literally held her at arm's length. "I'm sorry." He searched her face, his own expression somber. "It wasn't that. I loved that. Not just the Catwoman moment and that wildness. But that you came back to me, that you were there for me. I loved that too much. And that was the problem. It wasn't you. It's me."