She braces her hands on my chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt. “If you’re trying to avoid a serious conversation by using sex as a distraction, I might have to protest.”
I crack my eyes open to find her smiling at me. “Really?”
Slowly she shakes her hand, sneaking her fingers beneath the hem of my T-shirt so she can stroke my stomach. “Not really,” she murmurs before she leans in and captures my lips with hers once more.
We should talk. I know we should. There’s still so much to tell her. But I can hardly think when she’s in front of me, touching me, kissing me. I want to drown in her.
So I do. Just a little while. I touch my tongue to hers and she parts her lips easily, letting me in. My grip tightens in her hair, pulling a little so her head arches back, her pretty neck on display. She moans and I break the kiss, running my mouth down the length of her throat, licking and nibbling the fragrant flesh.
She whispers my name and the sound sends a zing straight to my dick. I’ve waited for this all day. Thought about doing this all damn day to her, with her. I’m a man obsessed.
“Maybe—” Her breath hitches when I bite her earlobe. “Maybe we should talk a little more before we do…this.”
“Do what?” I lift my head so I can study her beautiful face. Her cheeks are pink, her lips swollen, her eyes glazed. I’m teasing her and she knows it.
A little smile tickles the corner of her lips. “You know what.” She tunnels her hands up beneath my T-shirt, her fingernails grazing my skin and I shiver. “You’re being a bad boy, Drew. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“You bring it out of me.” I pull her toward me and she falls into my lap, wrapping her legs around my hips. I think this is our favorite position. I know it’s my favorite position tonight, what with her only wearing those panties and my shirt. I can feel her heat even through my jeans and I groan when she rocks against me.
“Hmm, what else can I bring out?” She’s tugging at my shirt and I hold my arms up, let her tug it off of me. Her gaze runs greedily over my chest as she licks her lips and I stifle the groan that wants to escape.
She’s trying to kill me. I know it.
“I’ve missed you.” Her words surprise me and by the look in her eyes, I think she surprised herself. “Being with you. Seeing you. Touching you. It’s hard for me to wrap my brain around the fact that we’re sitting here together and it’s not a dream.”
“It’s definitely not a dream.” I touch her face. Gently trace her lips. She’s trembling, I can feel the subtle tremors vibrate beneath my fingers and I bring her lips to mine, connecting them, connecting us for a long, quiet moment.
No tongues, no passionate, out-of-control kissing. Just our mouths touching, we’re inhaling each other’s breaths as we absorb each other. I need this connection. I think she needs it too.
Maybe we need each other too much. But I can’t worry about that now. Not when I have the woman I love in my arms, wrapped all around me.
Chapter Ten
The best proof of love is trust. – Dr. Joyce Brothers
Fable
I enter my apartment humming. I never hum. But I’m so freaking happy I feel like I could break out in song at any given moment. Considering I sing like crap, I think it’s safer to hum a song I heard on the radio when Drew drove me home.
I can feel the smile on my lips and I brush my fingers over them, as if I can wipe it away. Doesn’t work. Touching them reminds me of the way he kissed me before I climbed out of his truck. The way he looked at me when he asked if he could see me tonight. I have the day off work but he has to go to school and he’d been ready to ditch class for me so we could spend the day together. I forced him to go, though.
Such a stern, bossy girlfriend I am.
The apartment is dark, all the curtains and blinds are closed despite it being a gorgeous day outside and I walk by every window, yanking open curtains, cracking open blinds. The kitchen sink is full of dirty dishes and I blame Owen, making a mental note to have him wash them all when he gets home from school.
When I start down the hall, I notice my bedroom door is open. An eerie sensation settles over me, making me uneasy. I never leave my door open. It’s always firmly closed. If I could lock it, I would. It’s not that I don’t trust Owen or Mom. It’s all those jerks my mom brings over, though lately it’s just one jerk.
And my brother’s friends aren’t real prizes either. I remember the boys I knew in junior high. Hell, the girls too. I was just as bad. We all stole like crazy, lifting makeup and candy from the local supermarket. Freaking stupid.
Imagine my surprise when I stop in my doorway to find it’s my mom in my room, going through the jumble of stuff that litters the top of my dresser. Resting my hands on my hips, I clear my throat and she gasps, whirling on me with her hand pressed against her chest.
“Fable! When did you get home?” She fans her hand in front of her face like she’s some Southern belle about to faint in the wretched heat. “You scared the life out of me.”
“Good.” I flick my chin in her direction. “What are you doing in here?”
She sneers at me, the Southern belle act evaporating like smoke. “No, ‘Hi, Mom, how are you?’ Since when did you get so rude?”
“About the same time you started neglecting us completely.” I enter my room, already weary with the fight. My high has come crashing down and I’m left facing the reality that is my shitty relationship with my no-good mother. “Why are you going through my stuff?”