One Week Girlfriend (13 page)

“A wise soul, huh?” I study her and those big, fathomless green eyes are looking right back. She does seem so much more mature than other girls I know our age. She’s dealt with a lot more too. It’s like she takes care of everyone. So who takes care of Fable? “Do you have a lot of stories to tell?”

She slowly shakes her head, her cheeks darkening to crimson. “My life is infinitely boring.”

“I doubt that.” I find her mysterious. She puts on a front, like she’s tough and takes no shit but I get the sense that there’s a giant vulnerable side to her.

“If you’re referring to my supposed sexual escapades, really. Totally boring. There’s nothing to tell. Most of the stories floating around out there aren’t true anyway.” Her mouth is screwed up so tight after that statement, her lips practically disappear.

I’m momentarily taken aback by what she said. I’m trying to get to know her, not pry into her private business and her sexual past. I’m certainly not ready to go there yet. I don’t know if I ever will be. “I don’t care about any of that.”

“Yet it’s precisely why you chose me to be your fake girlfriend.” The hurt in her voice is unmistakable. By choosing her, I’ve hurt this already damaged girl. The fact makes me feel like shit.

“I’m not going to lie. You’re right.” Reaching across the table, I take her hand in mine and entwine our fingers. Hers are slender and so very cold. I give them a squeeze in the hopes I can warm them up. “But now, I’m really glad I chose you.”

Her gaze meets mine once more, stark and wide and I feel like I just bared my soul. “I’m glad you chose me too,” she admits, her voice so soft I almost didn’t hear her.

A rush of emotion burns through me and I try my best to keep it easy and light between us. But inside, I’m reeling. We make small talk and I pay the bill yet all I can think about is her. How much I want her. How easy she’s snuck into my life and I can’t imagine her out of it.

Completely crazy.

Plus, whatever happened last night eased the tension between us and we’re a lot more open with each other this afternoon. So open that when we leave the café and head up the steep sidewalk toward where I parked my truck, I grab her hand and she lets me hold it.

Like we’re a real couple.

“Smells like rain,” Fable murmurs and I glance up at the sky, notice the dark, swollen clouds hanging low.

“Yeah, it does.” The first drop hits the moment I say the words and she smiles and laughs, the sound sliding over me, twisting me up inside. I love the sound and I want to hear her do it again.

Fat raindrops start to fall and we stop and look at each other. I tighten my hold on her hand and we start to walk faster, as if we can escape the rain as it comes down harder and harder. Until we’re in the middle of torrential downpour and we’re getting soaked to the bone.

“How far did we park again?” she asks. The rain is coming down so hard, I can barely hear her.

“Way too far.” I went to a public lot so I wouldn’t have to worry about the parking meters and now I wish I hadn’t done that. The sidewalks are already virtually abandoned, the rain is really starting to come down in sheets and we still have blocks to go.

“Maybe we should duck into a store and wait it out for a bit,” she suggests.

That would work, but I see a better solution. Dragging her with me, I slip inside a narrow alleyway that I know leads to an artist’s studio and gallery. The alley is completely covered overhead, thick ivy growing along the sides and across the trellis that’s built there. It’s dark and safe from the rain and little white twinkle lights have been strewn amongst the ivy in preparation for the upcoming holiday season.

It’s downright magical and I notice how Fable stares up at it in wonder, her lips parted, her eyes wide. She turns to look at me, her long blonde hair sopping wet, her cheeks sprinkled with raindrops. Without thought, I reach out and wipe the droplets away with my thumb, first from one cheek, then the other. A tremble moves through her and she presses her lips together, her gaze dropping to the ground.

“Cold?” I murmur. I’m overwhelmed with the need to touch her, to keep on touching her. She’s somehow become my lifeline.

Fable slowly shakes her head, lifts her gaze to meet mine once more. “This spot, it’s so pretty. Are you sure it’s okay if we hide out here for a few?”

“Yeah. Definitely.” I pull her into me because I can’t resist and she comes willingly, staring at my lips. We’re sharing the same thoughts and that fills me with relief. She wants this as much as I do.

But she’s so tiny, I tower over her and I glance around, spot the low wooden bench that’s to the right of us. I grab her by her waist, making her squeak and I set her on top of it so now she’s the one who’s taller than me.

“What are you doing?” She settles her hands on my shoulders, her fingers digging into the wet fabric of my shirt.

“Letting you take the lead,” I say, hoping she will. Damn, I want her to. So bad, it’s killing me. I rest my hands on her hips, wishing she wasn’t wearing jeans. Really wishing she wasn’t wearing anything at all and that we’re somewhere else, back at the guesthouse, her body tucked beneath mine as we explore each other with our hands and mouths.

Being with Fable frees me. I wish I would’ve realized it sooner.

Fable

Something has changed within Drew since last night. Where before he was tense and secretive, today he seems more open and happier than I’ve ever seen him. Since we’ve come here, we’ve talked, we fought, we talked some more and somehow that’s brought us closer together.

But I’m also afraid. He goes back and forth. One minute open and charming and so irresistible he steals my breath. Then the next he’s dark and withdrawn, quiet. It takes a lot of energy to spend time with Drew but when he’s acting like this, I forget all the drama and revel in just being with him.

The unexpected rainstorm has made me wet and miserable but I don’t care. Not when I have Drew staring up at me, his blue eyes locked with mine. His face is damp with raindrops and his hair is soaked, as are his clothes, like mine. But we’re in this little tunnel of an alley, covered by a wooden trellis overgrown with ivy and it’s kind of cozy. Tiny white Christmas lights cast a faint glow upon us and it’s dark, the only sound our accelerated breathing and the rain falling on the sidewalk and street only a few feet away.

I feel alone with him. Completely and totally isolated, not worried who might see us or what they might say. We can do whatever we want without fear of judgment or snide remarks. The jealous girls and the jealous stepmoms fade away until it’s just me and him and the rain.

Studying his face, I smooth my index finger along one cheekbone, then the other. He didn’t shave this morning and the stubble on his face is scratchy. Makes me wonder what it would feel like, to have him rub against my sensitive body parts with those roughened cheeks.

A shiver moves through me at the thought.

He’s completely still, only the faint flicker of his eyelids give away that he’s affected by my touch and becoming bolder, I trace his mouth. Slowly, along the curve of his upper lip, then the full lower lip, my finger lingering in the corners, absorbing the tiny droplets of water that dot his skin. He parts his lips, capturing the tip of my finger between them and a gasp escapes me when he gently bites my finger, then licks it.

God. He’s killing me. I don’t know why he’s bolder today, I don’t know why he’s suddenly making moves on me but I’m not questioning it. I want this. I want him.

“You going to kiss me or what?” he asks after I remove my finger from between his lips. “You’re torturing me, you know.”

“Maybe I want to.” I feel flirty, mischievous and the slow grin that spreads across his face at my remark was worth it.

Drew slides his hand up my back until he’s cupping my nape, his fingers gripping my damp hair. I dip my head, our mouths brushing faintly and it’s as if a spark of electricity lights between us.

I’m instantly hungry for him, but I force myself to use restraint. I don’t want to rush this moment. There’s a sort of magic in this space that’s woven its spell around us and I’m not ready to break it yet.

I want to make this moment with him last.

Our lips meet again and again in the most chaste of kisses, every time his mouth connects with mine tingles dance in my stomach. My skin is covered in gooseflesh and I wind my arms around his neck, slide my fingers into his wet hair and clutch him close. His other arm is wrapped around my waist and he pulls me in closer until our wet bodies are plastered together.

“Fable.” He whispers my name, his voice deep and sexy and I part my lips, breathing into him. His mouth is soft and sweet, his tongue warm and damp as it tangles with mine. The slow burn deep in my belly is flaming higher. Higher still, until I’m ravenous, so hot I wish I could claw my clothes off and rub my naked body against his.

The slow kisses give way to hot, frantic ones. His fingers are so tight in my hair it hurts, but I don’t care. I’m starving for him and I want more. I want everything he can give me.

He breaks the kiss first and I lean my forehead against his, our breathing out of control and loud in the otherwise hushed quiet of the tunnel. The rain seems to have lessened, it’s not as loud and open my eyes to find him watching me carefully.

“Should we make a run for it?” he asks.

I don’t know how to answer. I don’t want him to let go of me. He has such a tight hold, I feel safe. Protected. “It’s still raining.”

“Not as hard, though.”

“We’ll get soaked,” I point out lamely.

“We’re already soaked.” He kisses me, keeps his mouth close to mine when he whispers, “I want to get you out of the rain and back to the guesthouse so we can really be alone.”

My heart flutters in anticipation at his words. He wants me. And I want him too. “Okay,” I agree with a nod and he carefully lifts me off the bench, letting me go so that I slide down the length of his body the entire way. I feel everything, his hard, unyielding muscles, how much I affect him…it’s exhilarating, how much power I have over him at this very moment.

What’s about to happen, this will change everything between us. And for once, I’m looking forward to it. There’s no shame in sex when you’re with a person you care about. He isn’t just another anonymous boy looking to ease that lonely ache inside me.

The realization both excites and terrifies me.

Drew

I couldn’t drive back to the guesthouse fast enough. Traffic was for shit, what with the rain and the roads were slick. I needed to be careful, I caught my back tires skidding across the asphalt a few times when I turned corners and I lowered my speed. Tried my best to be patient.

But with Fable sitting in the passenger seat all wet and sexy, looking good enough to eat, it’s tough.

The moment we get home, I’m out of the truck and opening the door for her. The rain has lessened, though it’s still steady and I have no idea if anyone’s home.

Hell, I don’t really care either. I’m so eager to get Fable inside, I can hardly see straight.

She’s giggling when I pull her inside the guesthouse and shut and lock the door with a finality that brings me complete satisfaction. No one’s going to interrupt this. I won’t allow it. I have to get Fable naked. Have. To. There’s no other choice.

I press her against the wall next to the front door and brace my hands above her head, kissing her until we’re both stupid with lust. Our hips connect, grinding against each other, and the wet clothes we have on is driving me crazy, so I reach for the hem of her shirt and slowly start to tug upward.

“Are you trying to strip me?” She’s teasing, I love the sound of her voice, how it’s full of affection and I nod, unable to say a word for fear I’ll ruin the moment.

She pushes at my chest so I have no choice but to step back, and I watch breathlessly as she reaches for her shirt and slowly lifts it up, up, until she’s pulling it over her head and letting it fall from her fingers to the floor. She stands before me in a pale pink bra trimmed with black lace, her breasts plumped over the cups and holy shit, all I want to do is take her bra off so I can touch her there.

Her eyes are glowing as reaches for me again and I go willingly, devouring her mouth, running my hands up and down her bare sides. My fingers are getting closer and closer to her bra-covered tits and then I’m there, cupping her, smoothing my thumbs across the front of her bra, earning a sweetly agonized moan for my efforts.

I hear her whisper my name when I kiss her neck and she shivers beneath my lips. I trail my tongue along her skin, savoring her taste, the way she melts against me and I reaching behind her back, fumbling with the clasp of her bra until it comes undone with relative ease.

Nerves make my hand shake and I withdraw from her, smooth my trembling fingers over her hair, across her cheek. We stare at each other, I see how her bra straps are loose around her shoulders and I slip my fingers beneath those lacy straps and slowly pull them down, revealing her to me for the first time.

My breath catches in my throat and all I can do is stare. She’s beautiful, with the prettiest pale pink nipples I’ve ever seen and I touch her there, circle first one nipple with my thumb, then the other.