Second Chance Boyfriend (Drew + Fable 2)

“So, so close. Oh my God, Drew. Please…”

Holy hell, she is so hot like this. All needy and desperate. She’s literally clawing at me and I rear up on my knees, grasp her by her waist so I can push deep inside her. She’s getting louder, sexy little murmurings I can barely understand, and when I hit a spot within her that’s particularly deep, she comes completely apart beneath me. Her body is racked with shudders, her head thrown back as she convulses all around me.

Sending me straight into my own spectacular orgasm that nearly leaves me blind. I collapse on top of her, my body still shaking, the aftereffects of my orgasm lingering for long, miraculous minutes, and she wraps her arms around me, holding me close, running her hands up and down my back. Soothing me, arousing me all over again.

“You’re crushing me,” she finally says, her voice muffled against my chest, and I move off of her with a quick apology, getting up so I can toss the condom in the trash before I slide back beneath the covers and pull her back into my arms.

Now that I have her back in my life, it’s going to be near impossible to let her out of my sight again. Which is ridiculous and unrealistic, but hell. I lost sight of her—and myself—already. And almost lost her.

I can’t risk it again.

“I know we should talk but I’m too tired,” she says with a yawn. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” I keep my arm around her slender shoulders and press a kiss to her forehead. I’m tired too. Sated. Satisfied. Sex makes me nervous, it always has. My past haunts me and renders the act forbidden. Shameful. Usually, I’d rather avoid it. Avoid women in general since they always want something from me I can’t give.

Not with Fable, though. Never with Fable. Being with her so intimately feels right. Perfect. I like getting naked with her, both physically and emotionally. Laying myself bare, showing her everything I have, everything I am, I’m not afraid when I’m with her.

It’s liberating. Freeing.

Like a little miracle.

Chapter Eight

I’d do anything to be your everything. – Drew…or Fable?

Fable

I think I have finally stepped into that fairy tale I always wanted to live in, ever since I was a little girl. I’m living it, right at this very moment, getting dressed and ready for a lazy Sunday with Drew.

He gently wakes me up by kissing me all over my face. Soft little kisses that make me giggle since his lips tickle my skin. When he slips his hands between us and starts tickling my stomach I laugh harder, our legs tangling up together, our naked bodies brushing against each other. Which in turn leads to us having slow, delicious morning sex.

But before the slow, delicious morning sex, I searched his body as promised. Mapping it with my lips and my tongue and my hands and my fingers. Imagine my surprise when I discovered a tattoo on his ribcage, written in elegant script. It’s a paragraph, more like a string of words in a poem. I trace each word with my finger, trying to decipher their meaning.

For a passion that’s

Able to shine like ours

Blessed are we to

Love

Each other

I’m in shock that clean-cut All-American Boy Drew Callahan has a tattoo. And that he got it after we were together.

“What does it mean?” I ask him, slowing skimming the words, each individual letter with my index finger.

He seems surprised by my question. “Read it again,” he says quietly. “Slowly.”

I do so, realizing that the first letter of every sentence spells my name. Reminding me of the marshmallow note he left for me. I’m shocked. Overwhelmed. Touched so deep, tears form in my eyes, and he kisses them away as they fall onto my cheeks. “I wrote those words for you,” he murmurs against my mouth before he kisses my lips. “You’ve turned me into a poet, Fable.”

God, he’s so sweetly romantic I want to lose myself in him forever.

We take a shower together and that eventually leads to more delicious sex, leaving me so spent afterward, my legs are like wobbly noodles when we finally climb out of the shower. He towel dries me, his fingers sliding between my still-wet legs, and he brings me to another earth-shattering orgasm.

Together, we’re absolutely ridiculous. We can’t keep our hands off of each other. And I love it.

I love him.

I put back on my shorts from last night but it’s too cold to wear the stupid lacy top so Drew lets me borrow an old sweatshirt. I pull it on, laughing when it stops just above my knees. I know I look stupid but he says I look cute and then he sweeps me up into his arms and kisses me. Again. Thoroughly.

So thoroughly I finally have to smack his chest and tell him I need to get home so I can check on my brother before we get carried away again.

The disappointment on his face is clear but he respects my wishes and we take off to my crappy apartment. The closer we get, the more nervous I become. What if my mom is home? No way do I want her to meet Drew. Not yet, anyway, because if this is going to continue between us, then eventually they’ll have to meet. It’s just a reality I don’t want to face.

My mom is so incredibly embarrassing, with her drunken, trashy ways, how she flat-out doesn’t care about anything or anyone but herself. He thinks his family’s all f**ked up—well, they are, let’s not fake ourselves out here—but my mom is no prize either.

What’s scary is that I’m constantly afraid I could turn into her. It would be so easy. We’re a lot alike, as much as I hate to admit it.

When we pull into my apartment complex parking lot, I notice my mom’s car isn’t there, thank goodness. The relief that floods me is palpable and I immediately feel lighter. Drew comes with me to my apartment, even though I tell him he can go ahead and leave since I have to work late. But he insists on walking me to my door like some sort of gentlemen.