(no subject)
“Trying,” she choked, pushing the vibrator against her clit as hard as she could.
She was folded on top herself, almost in a ball over the pillows beneath her hips. And she was so frantic and overwhelmed by the sensations that she began to sob for real, tears burning in her eyes and spotting the pillow.
“That’s it.” Lionel reared up with a muffled exclamation. “Baby, come!”
She howled as the intense and conflicted sensations built up with unbearable pressure and then exploded in spasms of release. It felt like every part of her was convulsing, clenching, spasming as her body shook helplessly, riding out the waves that overtook her.
The strong muscles of her passage clamped down ruthlessly around Lionel’s cock, and he shouted something wordless and primal as he started to jerk and shake too.
As her orgasm surged through her, she felt Lionel’s cock swell and pulse inside her tightly clenching muscles. Then she heard him make another helpless noise as she felt the spasms and spurts of his release.
Still sobbing, Chloe dropped the vibrator without turning it off. And she finally started to feel her intimate muscles ease up and a familiar wash of relaxation pass over her.
But with it she felt the weight of a sick, heavy dread sinking low in her gut. And it far outweighed her physical release.
Her heart was hammering so violently it hurt, and her lungs and throat and eyes were burning.
She squirmed until Lionel pulled his cock out of her, leaving her back passage raw and wet and achy. Her clit was throbbing so intently that every move she made seemed to trigger a sharp pang. Her nose was running, and she realized there was a line of drool on the corner of her lip.
Lionel was panting as loudly as she was, and he’d sprawled out on the other side of the bed, his eyes closed and his flushed face transformed by a hot, feral satisfaction.
The sight of him like that caused Chloe to choke on a few last whimpers. She rolled to the edge of the bed, pushed herself over the side, and stumbled her way to the bathroom.
She ran immediately to the toilet and sat down, letting out a held breath as she made herself release-peeing and expelling Lionel’s ejaculate and the excess lubricant at the same time.
She covered her face with her hands and released a few tight, silent sobs, her eyes burning with a hot tears that didn't quite fall.
All she’d wanted this evening was some cuddling. And maybe some quiet, gentle lovemaking.
And for a while she’d believed Lionel could give her that.
She jerked when she heard a noise and saw Lionel in the doorway of the bathroom.
He was still naked, but he was watching her in thoughtful silence. “Chloe? Was I too rough?”
He hadn’t been too rough. But it had been way too much.
She shook her head and sniffed, pulling off some toilet paper from the roll. “No. You weren’t rough.”
She hadn’t really wanted it. Any of it. And she couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t just said so. Lionel wouldn’t force her to do anything-he’d manipulate and persuade, but he’d always want her to come to him willingly or not at all.
She could have just said no from the beginning. Or any time along the way.
She hadn’t. So, while it would have been nice if Lionel had been sensitive enough to realize it wasn’t what she wanted or been selfless enough to change his plans for her, she couldn’t really blame him for what had happened.
Chloe had let him take what he wanted from her. She hadn’t thought her own needs and desires were worthy of exerting her will.
If what had just happened-if their entire relationship-was entirely about Lionel’s needs and desires, she was the one who’d accepted it.
“Here, baby.” She hadn’t noticed Lionel moving, but he must have gone over to the sink and soaked a washcloth with warm water-because he was handing it to her.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, taking it and using it to clean herself up more than the toilet paper had done. The warm cloth felt remarkably good against her raw intimate flesh, and she sucked in air through her teeth as she held it against her.
Lionel was washing off his cock, and then the vibrators, and then his hands, with soap and water. But he glanced over at her when she made the hissing sound. “Are you all right?”
“Sore.”
It was true. She was sore in so many ways. And she wasn’t sure she had it in her to even get up off the toilet.
When he’d finish cleaning everything off, he walked over to her. Paused and cupped her face with one hand. His face was sated now, and he no longer had that strained, hot need to exert his power. What they had just done had effectively reestablished his psychological security in their relationship. “I think you need to get some sleep.”
Chloe almost laughed-albeit brokenly-at the irony. Instead, she pulled her face away from his touch and stared down at her bare knees.
“I’ll be in bed,” he told her, leaving her alone in the bathroom.
Chloe stayed there a few minutes more. She squeezed out a few more tears, but found she didn’t have many to cry.
She still had that horrible weight in her belly, but this time it was leading her to something that was finally becoming clear.
After she’d washed up, she limped back into the bedroom. Saw her clothes on a pile on the floor so she leaned over and picked up her panties.
Lionel had straightened the bedding, tossed a couple of the pillows to the floor-probably those that had come into too close a contact with their intercourse-and had gotten under the covers.
He watched as she pulled on her panties, but when she reached for her slacks, he asked, “Chloe? What are you doing?”
Chloe looked over at him in resigned surprise. “I’m going home.”
His face changed. Became visibly thoughtful and somehow quieter than it had been. “Why?”
She let out a hoarse sigh. “Because I’m exhausted. And you usually prefer me to . . .”
“Chloe,” he interrupted, “Baby, come to bed.” He stretched out an arm-an impossible sign to misinterpret.
Chloe was so utterly drained and leveled that she wasn’t sure she could have even made it to the door of his apartment. So she didn’t object. Just crawled into bed beside him.
He pulled her against him, spooning her from behind as he wrapped his arms around her. His touch was unusually gentle, even tender, and he cradled her almost protectively.
She recognized the change in his touch. And she understood what it signified. And yesterday it would have soothed her insecurities and warmed something needy and desperate inside her.
But now his embrace just made the weight in her gut ache even more.
She didn’t know why she was doing this to herself. Letting herself be used-to feed only his needs. When they’d started fucking, she supposed it had been somewhat reciprocal, both of them using the other to prove something to the world or to themselves. It had been stupid, no matter how she tried to justify it, and she was starting to realize that part of why she’d done it was because it had been stupid. But, however far out of her league she had been, at least back then the using had been mutual.
But she’d been with him for almost six months. And a lot had changed in that time.
Chloe was wanting more from him-no sense in trying to deny it-but it was something she was never going to get.
Lionel hadn't intentionally been trying to hurt her tonight. But he'd met his own needs at the expense of her own. And it had finally proven something to Chloe.
Somehow, slowly, over the years, Chloe had convinced herself that her own needs-her real needs, her deepest needs-weren’t important. But, no matter how much she neglected them, they weren’t going to go away. So she’d fallen into the worst, most dangerous ways of feeling like they were met.
Which might finally explain everything she’d done.
Lionel’s breathing was slowing down, and she could feel his body relaxing behind her. His arms were still around him, holding her possessively against him.
He was on the edge of going to sleep, but, despite her exhaustion, Chloe wasn’t even close.
Her mind raced over the last six months and then the last six years before that.
Until it finally closed on one night. Another night. Six years ago.
She didn’t think about it much. If she’d had the choice, she wouldn’t think about it at all. It wasn’t any sort of pivotal moment in her life-it was just representative of . . . everything.
So, instead of sleeping, she remembered, every detail as sharp and jagged as flint.
Chloe lay in one Luthor man’s arms.
And remembered a night with his son.
* * *
It had been at the very end of the Lionel’s trial. In fact, the following day, the jury had come back with the guilty verdict and things had spiraled out from that point.
But this had happened the night before. Before so much that mattered had happened.
Chloe had been in bed, almost asleep, when Lex had appeared in her doorway.
He had put her up in a hotel suite for a few days until the end of the trial, since her safe house was no longer safe. At this point, nothing was likely to happen to her-her testimony had already been given-but Lex felt obliged to take care of her until the trial was fully concluded.
This would be the last night she slept in this suite.
She’d gasped when Lex’s silhouetted form appeared in the doorway, back lit from the entryway light she'd left on. She sat up in bed with a jerk, and, after blinking a couple of times, was able to recognize Lex’s lean form and the unmistakable curve of his bald head.
“Lex?” she asked, her voice cracking with sleep and fear. “What’s wrong? Is something the matter?” Her body had automatically moved into fight-or-flight mode, preparing her for a crisis
She'd been subconsciously expecting one since Lex had faked her death more than two months ago.
“Are you all right?” His voice sounded strange. Vague and slightly slurred. She’d never heard him like that before, even when he’d been injured, dead-tired and barely able to stay on his feet.
“Yes. I’m fine. What’s the matter? You’re scaring me.”
Lex stepped into the shadows of the bedroom, and after a minute Chloe could make out his features in the dark. He was looking at her in bed, but he didn’t seem to really see her.
He seemed confused somehow, and she’d never seen Lex confused.
“Lex!” Her voice was louder now, and more demanding. But her heart was racing painfully, and she had no idea what was going on. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Lex blinked. “I don’t know. I came here to find you.” He rubbed a hand over his face, but it didn’t appear to clear his mind. “I can’t remember why.”
Despite her bewilderment, her heart was touched by his admission of wanting to see her, for whatever reason.
He took a strange sideways step, and the motion caused a faint gust of air to waft toward where she was sitting in bed, clutching the covers around her waist, since she didn't have on any pajama bottoms. She caught a whiff of something with the air, and some of her confusion diminished. “Are you drunk?” It wasn’t really an accusation. More of a curious question.
“Maybe,” Lex allowed, still looking as if he weren’t quite sure what she was doing in bed.
Chloe frowned at him, although her anxiety was easing considerably. In fact, it was odd but kind of intriguing, witnessing Lex in this condition.
He was so rarely not in control.
“You didn’t drive, did you?”
Lex shrugged off her question and scratched at his head with both hands. “Pshh.”
“Lex. Did you or didn’t you?” Her voice was sharper now, partly from concern.
“No.” He rolled his eyes and looked vaguely around the hotel room. “I didn’t. Stop bossing.”
It was such a bizarre conversation to be having with Lex Luthor in the middle of the night that Chloe was almost enjoying it. But Lex didn’t look very well. She could see now that he was paler than usual and that there were shadows under his eyes. “Well, you should go home. Did someone drive you . . .”
Lex ignored her question, and her voice trailed off as he let out a sudden, hoarse gust of air and sat down on the side of the bed.
“Lex?” Chloe demanded, pulling her legs in so she wouldn’t accidentally poke him in the butt with her toes.
“Yeah.” His hands were on his knees and he was staring down at the floor. Then he idly toed off his expensive shoes.
Chloe shifted uncomfortably. “You aren’t going to be sick or anything, are you?”
“No,” he told her, his voice less vague now, but his tone hoarse and kind of sad. “Unfortunately, I’m not that drunk. And I think it’s starting to pass.”
He didn’t move, though. And he didn’t look at her. Just kept staring at that same spot on the floor.
Chloe glanced down and saw that she’d thrown the clothes she’d been wearing that day on the floor and hadn’t bothered to pick them up. So her jeans, red top, socks, and white bra were in a messy heap, right in the line of Lex's vision.
Chloe cringed, feeling strange about the idea of Lex seeing her bra like that. She really should have put her clothes where they belonged before she went to bed.
Lex hadn’t seemed to register them. He was just sitting, and-as lucidity slowly returned to him, faster than she would have expected-he seemed to close in on himself, his shoulders hunching and his head drooping.
After a moment of watching him in silence, Chloe’s heart started to lurch for him. “Lex. Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” It was more of a sigh-an exhausted, resigned exhale-than any sort of real word.
Very tentatively, Chloe reached out and touched his shoulder. “Lex, why did you come here?”
“I don’t know.” Something wounded had opened up in his shadowed eyes.
He didn’t pull away from her touch, which gave Chloe a little more courage. She and Lex had gotten to know each other over the last couple of months. Become friends, when she hadn’t dreamed it was possible. They’d never been particularly intimate, however, and she wasn’t used to touching him.
She’d always assumed he would pull away from her.
Since he didn’t, she tightened her fingers on his shoulder into a firm squeeze. “You can tell me,” she whispered, wanting so much to help him and deeply hoping he’d let her, “If you want.”
Lex closed his eyes and shook his head, but it didn’t seem to be a real rejection. She’d never seen his face like this before. Like it had suddenly frozen over an open wound. “I think I needed . . .”
He didn’t finish the sentence. His throat seemed to swallow them down.
Then he made a strangely helpless sound and kind of collapsed to the side, until he was lying beside her in the bed.
Chloe gave a little whimper of anxiety, scared at how broken and utterly needy Lex appeared, like he’d been drowning his angst in liquor but it had overwhelmed him again as soon as the fleeting relief of alcohol had dissipated.
He was lying on his side, facing away from her, but she brought a hand to his shoulder again. “Lex? Please tell me what’s wrong.”
Lex shook his head numbly and then tried to retreat, pulling away from her until he was trapped on the edge of the bed.
“Lex!” Her heart was hammering again now, and her belly was fluttering frantically-with an entirely different sort of fear. He was falling apart right in front of her, in her bed, practically in her arms.
And she had absolutely no idea what to do.
Desperate, she ignored her quivering insecurities and pulled him back over until he was lying on his back. “Lex, let me help you. Tell me what you need.” She propped herself up on one elbow and used the other hand to make him look at her.
He didn’t try to pull away this time. “I need . . .” he began in an uncharacteristic mumble. But he couldn’t seem to finish. Once more, the words got strangled somewhere on their way out.
Chloe was so scared and hurt for him that she wanted to cry. And she wanted to cry even more because she felt so utterly powerless to help him.
She wanted so much to make it better for him. But she had no idea what to do.
He started to shift them, like he was thinking about pulling away or getting up.
Chloe couldn’t let him leave-not when he was so completely crushed and the world was only likely to hurt him more.
In a last ditch effort, she rolled over until she was on top of him. Giving him a hard, awkward hug, she whispered, “Please, Lex. Let me help.”
He froze when her arms first moved to hold him, as if he were trying desperately to resist.
But then he let out a rough groan and his arms went around her with so much momentum that they both rolled to their sides.
Chloe had gasped loudly at Lex’s sudden return of her embrace. He was clutching her against him now, and she was holding onto him as well as she could.
She just didn’t know what to do. And her whole body was pulsing with an anxious bewilderment, now mingling with a vaguely defined claustrophobia.
Lex was just holding her-both arms around her tightly, his face buried in the hollow of her neck against her hair. It was slightly uncomfortable for Chloe, but he wasn’t being offensive or violent.
But she was suddenly, irrationally scared that he wouldn’t let her go.
It felt kind of like she was his lifeline, but she had no idea how to handle such a responsibility. She was only seventeen, and the only time Lex had really opened up to her before was when he hadn't had a choice.
Her hands were splayed stiffly against the back of his shoulders, so she moved them experimentally, trying to give him comforting strokes.
He made a soft, muffled noise in his throat, and held onto her even tighter.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, trying to be soothing but feeling as stupid as she’d ever felt. “Lex, it’s okay.”
It didn’t feel okay. She’d never seen anyone as intensely hurt and needy as Lex. She wasn’t his best friend, a psychologist, or even a particularly tender woman.
She was just Chloe. And she was terrified.
She could feel him breathing against her hair-hot, fast breaths that gradually grew slower and deeper, as if he were willing himself back under control.
Relieved that he wasn’t actually having a permanent breakdown, but not wanting him to withdraw before he was ready, Chloe whispered, “I’m glad you came to me, Lex. I want to help, but I don’t know what to do.”
He kind of grunted, but she had no idea if it was supposed to be a reply.
“You can talk to me, if you want. You know I’ll never tell anyone.” Her hands grew more comfortable stroking his back, and her heart was finally starting to slow down a little.
When he still didn’t respond, she added, “You don’t have to. We can just . . .”
She didn’t finish, mostly because she had no idea what they were doing. Hugging sounded silly, although that was the best description she could think of.
He made another wordless sound, so unlike his typical articulateness, and pushed against her. She rolled over onto her back, and he rolled over with her.
Now he was over her, and Chloe was nervous again. She was just wearing a short green t-shirt and her white cotton panties, and now Lex Luthor was lying on top of her.
But he hadn’t been making a move on her. He was just so infinitely needy.
She wondered if he’d had anyone-anyone-who’d been willing to just hold him, without asking for anything in return, since he’d reached adulthood.
Chloe wanted to hold him. Wanted to help him. She’d always been hesitant about Lex before-since there was so much to him that was unknown or ambiguous-but she thought she’d gotten to know him over the last months. Really know him.
And he seemed to really know her. He might not think of her as an attractive, eligible woman, but he seemed to respect her. And he’d never taken her for granted.
That meant something to Chloe. To be appreciated for who she was. And that was one of the reasons why she was so touched and overwhelmed that-out of everyone-Lex had chosen to come to her for emotional comfort.
She wasn’t going to let him down, even if she felt a little out of her depth.
She continued to caress his back, and one of her hands, almost shyly, snuck up to stroke the back of his head. Despite herself, she marveled at the feel of the tight, smooth skin under her fingertips.
She heard his breathing hitch, and something unfamiliar tightened low in her belly at the sound.
“Lex,” she whispered, suddenly intimidated by the thick silence. “I’m not sure what to do. But I just want to help you.”
He spoke then, a rough whisper against her ear, the words startling her and then sending a rush of warmth to fill her abdomen. “You are.”
She let out a ragged breath and one of her legs bent up next to his hip. His weight was hot and heavy on top of her, but for some reason it wasn’t unpleasant.
Her heart had sped up again now, and she was breathing once more in little pants. But it wasn’t exactly the same.
She stroked his scalp some more and rubbed his back, lowering her hand to just above his hips, where she started to massage in slow circles.
His breathing had changed, and his body seemed to be getting hotter in her arms. He was almost nuzzling her neck now, and the light, damp stimulation made her shiver and want to squirm her hips.
“Chloe.” The word was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, and its hoarse texture sent a jolt down to an ache between her legs-an ache she couldn’t help but recognize now.
Lex lowered his hands to her bare thighs, which were now pressing against his sides. He slid his hands along her sensitive skin until he had a hold on each of her calves. He pulled them up and back, until Chloe knew what he wanted.
She wrapped her legs around his middle. She had some trouble hooking them, but she eventually managed to secure her legs with her ankles.
When she’d tightened her legs around him, she suddenly became aware of something else.
Her groin was now pressed up against Lex’s. And she felt something there she hadn’t noticed before.
At the front of his pants was a hard bulge, almost perfectly aligned with the part of her that was making her squirm.
She rubbed against it instinctively, and Lex let out a muffled groan in response.
“Lex,” she gasped. “Lex, we can . . . I mean, I don’t mind . . . I mean, if you want . . .” She gave up, her cheeks blazing in embarrassment.
She’d never considered herself particularly shy or inhibited, but she’d only had sex once before. And anything newly intimate made her extremely insecure.
Lex was still breathing against her neck. But he mumbled, “I don’t have a condom.”
Chloe didn’t have one either. Obviously. “Oh. Okay.”
She felt a pang of disappointment, but not surprise. Something like this would never happen to her anyway. Lex Luthor would never turn to her for comfort, only to have it unexpectedly lead to something deeper.
That kind of thing probably happened to Lana all the time. But not to the Chloes of the world.
She was expecting him to pull away and get up, and she was preparing herself for the loss of this bizarre, moment of closeness.
But Lex didn’t move. His breath kept tickling her neck, and his arousal was still pressed up tightly to hers.
Then he started to rock into her.
“Lex?” she asked on a taken breath, her arms and legs squeezing him intuitively.
He didn’t answer. Just grunted slightly the next time he pushed his erection against her.
Chloe felt a flood of heat overwhelm her, half guilty pleasure and half embarrassment. Her pulse was still racing, and the room seemed to spin in a chaotic whirl around her.
And the only details she could recognize were of the tense, sweaty, fully dressed man on top of her.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. She’d been trying to stroke his head again, but her fingers tightened when his pelvis pressed down with a sharp little thrust. “It’s okay, Lex.”
He didn’t answer with words, just accelerated the speed of his rocking. Each time he pushed down into her, he gave an extra little pump, rubbing his groin up toward her belly. The stimulation against her hot arousal was intense and irresistible.
Chloe wasn’t sure what to do, and she was trying not to act too eager or immature. But she felt a deep pressure starting to build at her center, and she couldn’t help but buck up her hips to meet Lex’s little thrusts.
Her breaths were getting faster and shallower, and a thin sweat broke out on her skin. She kept wanting to make silly noises-helpless moans or childish grunts-but she was embarrassed by her urges and bit her lip to keep herself as silent as she could.
She rubbed herself against the hard bulge in Lex’s pants-her hot, sensitized flesh shielded only by a strip of thin, damp fabric. It was starting to feel so good that she felt suddenly frantic, so she dug her fingernails into the back of Lex’s neck.
He grunted as she gouged him, and his motion suddenly took on new urgency. He braced himself on his forearms and his started grinding his arousal hard against hers.
“Eh!” Chloe gasped, everything feeling so hot and tight and full and good that she had to dig her nails into Lex’s neck again to keep herself from crying out.
Then suddenly Lex arched up his back and he froze between her legs, his face almost unrecognizable. Then he released a long, guttural sound as he jerked his pelvis against hers a few last times.
Chloe realized, of course, what had happened. And she had a rush of guilty pleasure, at having Lex Luthor come between her legs. But she wasn’t finished yet, and she tried to keep squirming beneath him, having lost her momentum when he’d stopped rocking into her.
After his thick moment of release, Lex stared down at her, gasping urgently.
Their eyes met for just a moment, and Chloe saw there what was going to happen, before he even started to move.
Lex withdrew-either from awkwardness or shame or the stark knowledge of reality. And Chloe couldn’t suppress a little whimper of disappointment, when she lost the hard friction on her clit.
But she was supposed to be helping Lex here. Not trying to get a quick thrill. So she ignored her physical dissatisfaction and turned on her side toward Lex. “Lex?” she asked breathlessly.
He was closing down on her again. Closing in on himself once more.
And Chloe’s heart lurched again. She wanted so much to make him feel better. Realized that their little dry hump hadn’t helped-that she hadn’t managed to comfort him at all.
He’d wanted someone to hold him earlier, and she knew instinctively that he was too lucid now to ever let himself be vulnerable enough to ask for it or to seek it out himself.
So Chloe wrapped her arms around him from behind, holding him as tightly as she could.
When he tried to pull away from her, she didn’t let him go.
She held him like that until he finally started to relax. Then she began to stroke his chest gently.
It wasn’t long until his body softened in her arms and he fell asleep.
Chloe didn’t fall asleep that night until it was almost morning. And so she was thick and groggy when she realized that someone had just gotten out of her bed.
Opening her eyes and seeing that Lex was putting on his shoes, the night’s events came back to Chloe with a strange, quivering excitement.
She didn’t know what it all meant, but she knew it had been significant.
“I have to change clothes before I go into court,” Lex said softly, when he saw that she was awake. His face was fully composed and utterly unrevealing.
Chloe sat up in bed and blinked at him sleepily, feeling strangely fond as she watched how well he could hide his vulnerability.
He hadn’t hid it from her.
“Do you want me to come with you?” she mumbled. At his surprised look, she clarified, “To court, I mean.”
“No. I’ve got it. Thanks.”
She felt a pang of disappointment, even through her sleepy haze. But she just said, “Okay,” and pulled the covers back over her as he left the room.
He was probably feeling kind of awkward and insecure after last night. She’d see him again soon, and they could figure things out.
He’d come to her-out of everyone else he could have gone to for help. She still didn’t know what had triggered the minor breakdown, but he’d sought her out specifically, as if he’d known he could find comfort in her.
A pleased, proud wash of satisfaction filled her belly. And then another kind of heat as she remembered how they’d turned each other on. How he’d looked as he’d climaxed.
She never would have imagined that plain, old Chloe Sullivan could ever make Lex Luthor come.
So she’d let Lex go that morning, without even a glimmer of a warning.
She'd been seventeen. She'd been so young. And so stupid.
He hadn’t come by to see her later that day. He’d just sent a couple of his men to get her moved back to Smallville.
The next week, he hadn’t come by to see how she was settling back into real life, after being dead to most of the world all summer. He hadn’t called to discuss the outcome of the trial or to set up a time to have coffee together. He hadn’t sent her a quick email to thank her for risking her life to help him put his father in prison.
And the next time she’d seen him-he’d been in the Talon, talking to Lana, when Chloe came in-he’d left with only a generic greeting, the kind one would give a slight acquaintance.
And so finally Chloe had understood. What she’d been to Lex, for all those months she’d risked her life to help him. And what she’d been to him that night, which she’d so foolishly thought might mean something.
Nothing.
It wasn’t that he disliked her. He simply didn’t care. He used her when he needed her-in whatever ways he needed her-but then she was easily discarded.
So Chloe had watched, from a distance, as events unfolded from that point on. She’d watched as Lex had grown darker and more conflicted, his pain and insecurity finally catching up to him.. She’d watched as he gradually learned to distrust and resent Clark and as she’d thus had to learn to protect Clark from him. She’d watched as he’d intensified the war with his father, until the specific moves never mattered as much as the constant proof of their emnity.
And she’d watched as he’d fallen in love with her friend.
Knowing, all the time, that-whether he treated her with disinterested courtesy or impatient annoyance-it was always based purely on circumstances and never on her value as a person.
Because the person she was didn't matter to Lex.
Eventually, she’d convinced herself that none of it mattered to her, that she had never really cared about Lex anyway.
And, when she’d started fucking Lionel, she’d managed to mostly forget the fact that she’d ever been close to fucking his son.
* * *
Chloe didn’t sleep at all that night, even though she was so sore and exhausted it pained her to move.
Lionel slept. When he’d first fallen asleep, she’d tried to pull out of his arms, but he’d pulled her back against him, tightening his arms with a muffled grunt.
So she stayed in his embrace and reflected, while Lionel slept soundly behind her-longer and deeper than she’d ever seen him sleep.
Actually, she rarely saw him sleep. He wasn’t the kind of man who slept easily around other people. And the fact that he was tonight, holding her against him, even in his sleep, told her something she needed to know.
He cared for her. Chloe suddenly knew it. And this morning that knowledge might have changed everything.
Now it just didn’t matter.
Chloe had been right in most of what she’d said to Lex. But he’d been right in most of what he’d said to her.
Particularly this-a truth that had finally come home to her.
It didn’t matter if Lionel cared about her-even if he loved her as much as he was capable of loving.
Lionel’s feelings would always be primarily selfish.
And he was most dangerous to those that he loved.
Chloe understood it now, although the final admission broke her heart a little. And she knew what she needed to do about it.
She knew what she needed to do about everything-about the whole course her life seemed to have taken without her realizing it.
She saw things so clearly-staring out at the dark of Lionel’s room. She had a choice now. And it was the same choice she’d had for the last six months. And for the last six years before that.
She finally had to admit that refusing to make a choice was making one.
Chloe knew what she needed to do now, and for the first time in so long the sick, heavy clench in her belly began to unclench.
All she needed was to figure out a plan.
And discover the courage to take back her will.