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"It was never just sex, it just isn't about love, or relationships, with-"

It had taken her that long to realize what Lex had just said; or more importantly, how he'd said it. She didn't know what the Greeks had to do with having sex (didn't those guys ******** little boys a lot?) but she did not need that information to understand what Lex was offering. He forced her to look at him not as a friend, and not as a confidante, but as potential; and she became very suddenly hyper aware of why he'd had such luck with women in his salacious past.

"If this is a joke, it's a very shitty one." Her voice shook, betraying the look of suspicion she was trying to keep on her flushing face. "And if it's not, then you should seriously think about what you're saying, because - because you're taken, and that's like - " The only kind of guy you used to date? A sick, twisted little part of herself whispered in reminder. She pursed her lips and tried not to think about that.

"You'd regret it."

Well, he wasn't joking. That made things both really easy, and really hard. She tilted her head, and watched him coming closer, stalking her like a predator. She must have looked like the worst prey, with no sense of self-preservation or even tension. She really didn't like his answer, but he would never be able to tell, because her half-smile never moved.

"If you're trying to turn me on, calling this a regret doesn't do the trick." But that was exactly what he'd done, and it was because she'd said it first. Was it fair to admit that when it came out of his mouth, it sounded a hell of a lot worse? She couldn't really be sure.

But there could be no question of how discreet she was. Maebe was filled with other people's secrets; Lex requested to shove one more under her skin. She hardly felt it.

"It always has." She assured him, settling her chin into her palm to watch him edge closer with masked interest. "And always will."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. That was fresh, and she briefly considered kicking him out of her room. He was nose to nose with her when she finally decided that she'd let it pass, because he wanted to play make-believe and she loved to play make-believe. The only problem was, she wasn't very good at it anymore. Where once she'd been a master of forgetfulness, now it was all she could do to try and live in the moment. Her eyelids fluttered and her lips pursed, focusing her mind on how it felt, and not what it meant. Warm, forgiving lips pushed back by her own. Heated breath washing against her face. Soft. Promising. New. Forbidden. Everything she'd ever wanted in one tall, taut package, waiting silently for her green light. Is it okay? Was it?

Was it ever going to be okay again?

And then the thoughts she tried to push down were rising to the surface, as if they were the answer to her question. This had been her position of choice; the secret lover, hidden behind the curtains, left when the deed was done so they could go home to their wives or husbands or families and act like nothing had ever happened. Act like they hadn't rutted their bodies against hers, sweaty and needy and begging for her. Within the span of an hour, the shape of their lips would change from Maebe, yes to Maebe who? without ever blinking an eye.

She knew this was no different. She knew she'd chosen that role every time she'd been in it. It had always been her choice, just as it was this time. She sought nothing further from them, or Lex, and never would.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, until her hands were sliding up and disappearing in the thick of his hair.

It was either this, or be the woman on the other end of that line, waiting for him to come home. Waiting without a clue of how his body was friction against another. It was this, or that. She'd done this. She'd failed that. She might have given that another try, if..

But there were no ifs, for Maebe Grace. Her if didn't want her. Her if had said no. There was only this, or that.

He'd been right, and that angered her; but it did not take much to remind her of why she craved physical attention with such a constant and demanding need. It had been too long and she'd been spurned too much and God, his hands were so big and strong around her waist. He wasn't gentle, and that worked in his favor, eliciting terrible sounds from her that muffled into his mouth. She felt so small, delicate and fragile, in between his hands. She wanted him to break her like a twig, and she sucked in a sharp breath and pulled away when she realized what she'd just thought.

Not that. Don't turn back down that path, she scolded herself. This doesn't have to be like that. You don't have to hurt, to feel good.

Her lips had broken away when she sucked in that breath, and her eyes, glazed and dangerous, settled down on his face and mapped every curve waiting to be kissed, and every edge waiting to be bitten. It was methodical, and it helped her focus back down from the ledge she'd almost jumped off of once more.

When she breathed again, she bent in and took his lower lip between her teeth, tugging it out with suction and biting down hard before letting go.

There. Much better.

To no surprise, it became easier, and easier to forget about the should and should nots as time progressed. Her mind turned fuzzy with white noise and her body moved with well trained instinct, tilting her head back and arching against him because his lips demanded the taste of her neck, and it was there to be consumed. She was confident that he knew what he was doing, because his hands searched for her under her clothes and found her pliable to each rising touch. It was easy to forget everything but the search for pleasure, for ecstasy, when every part of him promised he would deliver.

But his words struck a note of hesitation that clashed with everything he'd done, including the way his lips grazed down the sensitive line of her collarbone and forced her breath to turn shallow, and quick. He was using her, but that had always been the point, hadn't it? She was too dazed to understand.

"What, then." She breathed out, tugging his shirt hart to collapse him down against her. "What is it."

She should have seen it coming.

Lex had been safe. Inviting him into her room every week had been comforting, because she never had to worry that either of them would go too far. She'd been so desperately hung up on Dawson, and he'd been - was still - hopeful for some miracle to reignite his relationship. They were both so lonely, bitter, and hungry - so hungry - but it was safe, because they weren't hungry for each other.

She should have known that it would only be a matter of time before their hungers turned blind to who they really wanted. They weren't safe for each other, at all. They were temptation in it's purest form.

He took her shirt, and his skin pressed against hers, spreading a burning heat anywhere it touched, and she knew that heat was meant for someone else. She was stealing it, just for the moment, but that was all it was. A moment.

Her hands trickled down the impressive lines of his abdomen, admiring them selfishly before she decided to do something about the traitorous thoughts that fluttered through her mind.

"You've already won." She admitted, turning eyes filled with desire up to meet his. "I give in. You know I want this. But you don't." Her expression pinched with conflict; if she said nothing, he wouldn't stop. It would be easy, like falling. "I'm not the one you want to do this with."

The sting of cold against her skin burned her to the core. She hadn't expected him to pull away so quickly, but she had expected him to pull away. The acute feeling of loss was made so much worse when he was there, and then a moment later, he was gone.

A moment.

Her skin felt like breaking glass, shattering against her nerves, and she tried not to think of the pain as something she deserved, because if she did, she would enjoy it. But it was deserved, because if it wasn't now, it would have been later, anyway. This way, at least he left thinking he'd done the right thing. Because she knew, in his mind, this hadn't just happened. His d**k stayed in his pants, and that was all that mattered.

Her eyes rolled, and she shook her hair into her face to hide the expression from view.

He left before she could even say a word, and the door took it's sweet time in closing, leaving her exposed to an empty hallway for several long, humiliating seconds. Didn't even think enough to close the door behind him. Just ran.

She sat up on her bed when the door closed, rested her head on her knees, and let herself unravel. It would have happened inevitably, at some point. When wasn't important. Whether or not he'd ******** her wasn't important. As long as he was gone, it was okay to cry.

So she did. But not for very long.

It was, after all, her choice to make.