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I blink hard. “No, I’m not.”

He strokes his thumb across my chin, his nail grazing the edge of my lower lip. “I hate that I’ve made you cry.”

I close my eyes, the still-falling tears getting tangled up in my eyelashes. “I’m just… I don’t know how to handle this anymore. You. Us.”

“I’m sorry.” He steps closer. I can feel his body heat burning into me. And then his mouth is at my forehead, his lips brushing my skin in a tentative kiss. “So sorry.” Another kiss at my temple. “I didn’t know what to say to you after I left. I was ashamed of everything that happened, everything you witnessed. You deserve better.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

Without thought I sling my arms around him, anchoring myself. He’s big and warm and solid, and my heart eases at having him so close again. “I deserve you,” I whisper. “When will you realize that?”

We’re quiet for long, agonizing minutes. My forehead is pressed against his chin, my arms loose around his waist. He slips his arm around me so his hand settles at my hip. His other hand is in my hair, smoothing it back, tangling his fingers in the long strands, and I sigh at his gentle touch.

I never want this moment to end. I want to forget all our troubles and just focus on the two of us together.

“I don’t deserve you,” he finally says. “You accept me so easily, no matter how hard I push you away. You need to know I don’t do it on purpose. It’s just…the only way I know how to deal is to run.”

His honesty breaks my heart.

“I’m learning, though, that running away doesn’t solve my problems.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m seeing someone. A psychologist. She’s helping me a lot.”

I chance looking up at him and our gazes clash. He’s worried that somehow his admission might drive me away, I can tell. “That’s good. Did someone arrange that for you?” Had he told his father anything? Or was he still keeping all his secrets?

“No, I sought her out myself. We’ve talked a lot about what happened. And about you.”

“About me?” I’m shocked. After he left so easily, I figured he forgot all about me.

“Definitely about you.” He trails his fingers down my cheek and I release a shuddering breath. “You have no idea how important you are to me, do you?”

I slowly shake my head. “When you left, I figured we were finished. I thought you were over me.”

“I could never be over you.” Drew clamps his lips shut. I wonder if he wants to say something else.

I know I do. But I can’t. I’m not going to be as quick to reveal my emotions to him again. Not after everything we’ve been through. I’m too scared.

So I go with an easy admission. One not too far from what he offered me. “I’m not over you either,” I whisper.

Before I can say anything else, he yanks me closer and presses his mouth to mine. His lips are soft, damp and very, very persistent. I open for him easily, our tongues sliding against each other, his low moan fueling me on. Fueling us both on.

Just like that, I’m lost.

Drew

Finally. I’m kissing her again, tasting her, holding her in my arms. It feels so good, so f**king right, having Fable with me. In my apartment, back in my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve this gift but I refuse to screw it up again.

I’m not letting her go. Ever. I need her too much. I love her too damn much.

I wanted to tell her that too. I wrote the words in that final letter I left for her the last time we were together. Now, with her standing in front of me, my courage has evaporated. I’m scared she might reject me. At the very least, reject the words and the emotion behind them.

Instead, I kiss her. I’d rather show her how I feel than tell her.

“Take me to your room,” she whispers against my lips after she breaks the kiss first. “Take me to your bed, Drew.”

Grabbing her ass, I lift her up and she wraps her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck. She weighs nothing, her soft, curvy body fits against mine perfectly as I carry her toward my bedroom, all the while she’s kissing and licking my neck. Making me so hard I don’t know how I’m going to stand the torture of not being inside her another second.

Damn it, I want to make this last. I want to take my time with her and go slow. Being with her again is like my every dream come true and I want to savor it.

But she’s squirming against me, her hot breath against my neck making me shiver, and I know this is going to happen way too fast.

We fall onto the bed together and I’m careful not to land on her since she’s so little. And perfect. Amazingly perfect as I pull away and study her from head to toe. Her long hair spills across my pillow, her chest rising and falling quickly. The lace top does little to hide the black satin bra she’s wearing and I can see the creamy skin of her flat stomach.

I desperately want to kiss and lick her there.

The little black shorts she’s wearing only emphasize the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips, the length of her legs. I lift up on my knees so I can see her more fully. She opens her eyes, the smile curving her lush lips full-on seduction. It’s working. Fable can seduce me with one glance, one word, one touch.

“What are you waiting for?” She reaches toward me, hooks her finger around the belt loop of my jeans and tugs, but I resist.

“I’m looking at you first.”

Her cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink. “You can look all you want later. I need you, Drew. Please.”


Tags: Monica Murphy One Week Girlfriend Young Adult