One Week Girlfriend (19 page)

Now I want to see all. Everything. I want to stare into his eyes the first time he enters me. I want to keep our gazes locked when he makes me come. I want to hear him whisper my name when I make
him
come…

A shiver moves through me as I slide my fingers across his broad shoulders, down his arms, lingering on his rock hard biceps, skimming over the dark hair that covers his forearms. He remains utterly still, but I can feel his hot eyes on me, devouring me as I intently search his flesh with my hands. I touch his chest, the tips of my index fingers gliding over his nipples simultaneously and he jumps a little, making me smile.

But my smile fades as I become enraptured with every bump and groove of his washboard stomach. I slow my search, let my hands completely map his abs and I feel his muscles quiver beneath my touch.

Lifting my head, I find him watching me, his brows raised, his mouth quirked in a half smile. This is by far the happiest I’ve seen him since the afternoon he took me to lunch and kissed me in a fairytale alley while it rained, with white lights twinkling all around us.

Without a word I press my lips to his, keeping my eyes open until his shutter closed and I find myself falling so easily under his spell. This kiss is hungrier, more urgent and I let him take the lead, revel in how he rests his big hand at the top of my chest before sliding it up to lightly touch my throat in a wholly possessive gesture that has me reeling.

That same hand slides back down, his fingers dipping beneath the loose strap of my bra, pushing it off my shoulder. He does the same to the other strap, magically removing the bra from me within seconds and my bare breasts are crushed to his chest, my nipples hard against the warmth of his skin.

“I want you,” he whispers in my ear, sending shivers careening down my spine. “So bad it’s killing me, Fable.”

I love that he says my name in the same breath that he declares he wants me. Rather than become lost in the darkness or blinded by the past, he’s here. With me now, touching me and kissing me, slowly grinding his erection against me. I’m completely absorbed by him, lost within him and there’s no place I’d rather be.

He grabs hold of my waist and pushes me down onto the bed so I’m flat on my back, his hands pressed on either side of my head on the mattress as he leans over, his mouth never leaving mine. In this position, he’s not as close as I want him, and I curl my legs around his hips, desperate to draw him near.

Breaking our kiss, he pulls away and slides down the length of my body, his hands at the waistband of my thin black leggings as he slowly, patiently tugs them down, taking my panties along with them. I’m trembling, my breaths are coming too fast and I stare up at the ceiling, biting the inside of my lip when his fingers brush against my thighs, my knees, my calves as he strips me. I feel his breath against the very center of me and I close my eyes, dizziness swamping me when I feel those large hands of his pushing my thighs apart.

He’s studying me down there and I don’t know what to think, what to say. He releases a ragged breath, his hands gripping my hips and then he’s kissing my chest, running his lips all over my flesh until I feel his tongue lick first one nipple, then another.

I can’t take it any longer. I’m not one to remain silent in bed, I never have been, not that I’m a total screamer. But his touch, his mouth on my skin feels so good, I arch into him and cry out. I’m on complete sensation overload, totally naked and exposed and I’ve never felt so cherished. So alive.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against my breasts as he worships them with his mouth. I sink my hand into his hair and hold him to me, writhing beneath his busy lips and tongue. I’m still baffled. Honestly, I don’t quite know how we got to this point. I hated him on sight. I did this only for the money. I thought he was a fucked up mess. I
still
think he’s a fucked up mess.

But so am I. And he’s so beautiful, so thoughtful, so vulnerable. We can be a mess together. I want to heal him. I know I can heal him.

This joining of our bodies is the first step.

“Hold on,” he murmurs. I open my eyes and his face is in mine. He steals a quick kiss and removes himself from me, getting off the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

I watch him leave and I throw my arm over my eyes, trying my best to calm my racing heart, my accelerated breath. My body is so ramped up, it won’t take much to send me right over the edge. I’m trembling, so full of adrenaline and desire and whatever other mysterious emotions are swirling inside my body. I’ve never, ever felt like this before. Ever.

The realization leaves me breathless.

Drew slips back inside the room minutes later, shutting the door and turning the lock into place. I watch him quietly as he walks toward the bed and sets a small box of condoms on the bedside table. I meet his gaze, one eyebrow raised and he smiles.

“We lucked out. There’s a box in the bathroom under the sink. They’re always there, like towels and shampoo and soap. They keep this guesthouse busy, like a hotel sometimes, I swear. My dad always has business clients staying here.”

Huh. Well, if the Callahans always have guests staying with them, at least they’re providing a safe haven.

I can’t ponder the condom issue too long though. Not when Drew is busy undoing the snap and zipper on his jeans, letting them fall from his hips to a heap around his ankles before he kicks them off. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him, how he fills out his black cotton boxer briefs so perfectly.

And then he’s taking those off too, and I’m staring unabashedly, marveling at how big he really is and how that might feel when he finally joins his body with mine.

As in, it might hurt. All of a sudden, I’m scared shitless.

I swear he can sense my change in mood and he tries to reassure me. He gathers me in his strong arms, holding me close. I shut my eyes and bury my head against his firm chest, breathe in his clean, unique scent. He’s gentle, he’s tender but he’s also persistent and soon we’re kissing, searching each other’s bodies with busy hands, rolling around the mattress like a couple of kids in a playful wrestling match.

But there’s nothing playful about this big, muscular man pinning me to the bed, my arms spread above my head, his fingers locked around my wrists as he studies me with those beautiful blue eyes.

He slipped the condom on only moments ago. I know he’s ready. I’m ready. But I’m still nervous. This is such a turning point in our relationship, something we can never go back on. I won’t forget him or this night. He’s permanently writing himself in my personal history.

“There’s no going back,” he whispers, as if he can read my mind.

I slowly nod, too overcome to find words.

“Once I’m inside you, you’re mine.”

Oh
. I never, ever thought hearing a guy say that would arouse me so much, but it does. I’ve always thought of myself as an independent person. I belong to no one.

But the idea of belonging to Drew fills me with so much joy, I’m afraid I might burst.

“I want you to be mine, Fable.” Loosening his hold on my wrists, he dips his head, nuzzling my cheek, my nose. It’s the sweetest, sexiest gesture and I moan as I circle my arms around his neck and cradle him close.

“I want to be yours,” I answer in a breathy whisper. “I want to belong to you, Drew. Only you.”

He kisses me, at the same time sliding his body into mine. Inch by thick inch, taking my breath away with the shear size of him and I tense up, holding my breath as he rocks deeper and deeper into me.

“I’m hurting you.” He presses sweet, quick kisses all over my face. “Relax. Breathe.”

I do as he urges, trying my best to ease the tension from my abdomen and it becomes easier, Drew pushing inside me. His entire body is tense from holding back, his skin covered in a fine mist of sweat and I wiggle my hips, spread my legs a little bit wider, allowing him to sink deeper.

We both groan at the sensation and start to move. Together. Tentatively at first, learning each other’s rhythm, tuning our bodies until they become synced in fluid, easy motion. He rocks into me, harder. Harder still, making me lose my mind with his every thrust. I’m losing myself, my brain is fuzzy, my thoughts distant. All I can do is feel. The incredible wave threatens, I know I’m about to go completely under but then he surprises me.

Drew drags me into a sitting position, his back against the bed’s headboard, my legs wound around his waist, much like we sat only moments before, when we were still fully clothed. Only now, we’re naked, both physically and emotionally, our bodies connected, his flesh buried so deep in mine, I feel as if he’s embedded in me.

“I was losing you.” He knows me so well. “And I didn’t want you to forget who you’re with. Who’s about to make you come.” His voice is deep, so deep, as his cock, and I shudder all around him. Excited by his possessive tone, thrilled by his sweet words.

Drew completely undoes me, with a look, with a word, with a thrust of his body, with a lick of his tongue. Every single thing he does to me devastates. Intoxicates. Renews.

Every single thing inside of me.

“I’ll never forget who I’m with,” I whisper against his lips before I kiss him. His hands are gripping my hips, pulling me down and I work with him, eager for the explosion, yet wanting to draw it out just a little bit longer.

He curves his hand around the back of my head, his fingers knotted in my hair in such a tight grip, it stings. But I relish the pain, how it makes me feel alive. How being in Drew’s arms, having him buried deep inside me makes me feel.

Alive. Cherished. Loved.

He breathes my name against my lips and I know he’s close. So am I. I angle myself just so, rubbing against him, rocking into him and I fall apart with a little cry, my entire body shaking. He tumbles right after me, his body quivering as he groans in exquisite agony, his arm clutching me so tight around my waist, I almost can’t breathe.

We cling to each other for long minutes after, our bodies still shuddering, our breathing slowly evening out. I don’t want to let him go, don’t want to let him out of my body and I know I’m being ridiculous.

But I can’t help myself. Drew Callahan has forever changed me, and the knowledge both invigorates and terrifies me. There is still so much I don’t know.

Still so much I need him to reveal to me. Scary parts of his life I’m frightened to learn. But the truth…don’t they say the truth will set you free?

I want to free Drew from the prison his past has put upon him. And the only way I can do that is if I know what happened.

And tomorrow, I am determined to find out.

I have to.

~* Chapter Twelve *~

Day 7 (Departure), 9:00 a.m.

The course of true love never did run smooth.
 
– William Shakespeare
 

Drew

We slept in, our naked bodies entwined, my back to her front and my hands cupping her breasts. With her fragrant hair in my face and her legs tangled with mine, I woke up hard as steel and ready to take her again.

Which I did.

I’ve had sex with Fable four times since last night. Every single time is better than the last and I am so gone over this girl, it’s pathetic. Amazing.

She finally urges me out of bed, telling me we need to get a move on and she’s right. Four-hour drive on a busy travel day, I know it’s probably going to take longer than usual.

Plus, I want to escape so I don’t have to face Adele. Or my father. How awful is that? I love my dad but today…today will be hard for him. And I don’t know if I can deal with it. I actually feel guilty, being so happy on this day—though it’s not the exact day of Vanessa’s death, it’s close enough—yet I want to fight it off.

I’m tired of the guilt and the exhaustion. The worry and the shame. For once in my life, I just had sex with a beautiful woman all night long and I want to revel in it. I want to be with her, touch her, tell her how much she means to me, instead of running away and hiding from it all.

Fable is so fucking good for me, I can’t ever let her go.

We shower together because I’m greedy and so is she. I slip my fingers between her legs and gently bring her to orgasm, my mouth fused with hers the whole time, swallowing her gasps and moans as the warm water beats down on us. And then she drops to her knees and takes me into her mouth, her lips wrapped around the head of my cock, her tongue mapping every bit of me until I come with a shuddering gust of breath.

That in itself was a major turning point. My past experiences have made me hate blowjobs. Only because they filled me with such revulsion when the memories came. The shame, the horror at how easily I gave in to one woman’s insistence that what we were doing wasn’t wrong. That there was nothing to be ashamed of.

She
was
wrong. I knew what we did wasn’t right, yet I couldn’t control myself, my urges, my responses to her. She knew how to arouse me and I hated that.