One Week Girlfriend (One Week Girlfriend, #1)(47)

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 f*cking 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.

I hated what she turned me into. Her sexual toy, a plaything to take out and f*ck and jerk off and use until I was spent and sick to my stomach. More than once after she left me, I contemplated suicide. But I couldn’t do it. I was too scared, too afraid what might happen if I lived after all.

So I turned into a shell. A robot going through the motions, living my life, doing what I was supposed to and getting ahead just fine. Keeping everyone at a distance, embracing football and nothing else.

Until this girl came along and intrigued me. Surprised me. Intoxicated me.

Stripped me completely.

“You’re insatiable,” she told me after we toweled each other off.

Her words render me frozen. Adele said much the same thing that night at the country club. Those words had enraged me. Shamed me.

Much as they do now.

The smile falls from Fable’s perfect lips as I stare at her, trying to get my anger under control. I can’t lose it, not like this. Not after spending the most perfect night of my life with her. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

I shake my head and exit the bathroom, heading for my room so I can change. I’m already packed and pretty much ready to go, save for a few things. I need to get out of here, away from this house. Away from this life. It’s not a part of me anymore, and I can feel its thorny tendrils winding around my mind, trying to stick in me and never let me escape.

Minutes later Fable’s in my room, hastily dressed, her jeans still unsnapped, her shirt thrown on haphazardly. She straightens it out around her slim shoulders, offering tantalizing glimpses of her skin and I’m momentarily distracted.

But I realize her probing gaze is locked on me and she’s not going to let me escape. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m just…ready to go.” That’s a good enough answer. It has to be.

“Something happened back there. I want to know what.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, something I haven’t seen her do in days, and I realize it’s a defensive gesture. She’s trying to be tough, showing that she won’t back down.

Well, I’m not backing down either. We can’t have this conversation here. Now. “Let it go, Fable. Seriously.”

“No.” She steps forward and shoves me right in the chest with both hands. “I’m tired of pretending there’s nothing wrong. I’m sick of you blowing up and freaking out and then telling me you’re fine. I know you’re still grieving for your sister. I know you feel guilty over her death, and I get that. But there’s more going on here. Something else happened that you’re not telling me. And I really need you to tell me, Drew.”

I slowly shake my head, the air leaving my lungs all at once. “I—I can’t.”

“You have to.” She reaches out to shove me again and I grab her wrists, stopping her. “I need to know. How else can I help you get past this?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” I let go of her and turn to my bag that’s sitting on the bed but she grabs my arm, jerking me around so I’m facing her once more.

“Don’t shut me out. I’m here for you. After everything we’ve been through, after what we’ve just shared.” She sighs and closes her eyes for the briefest moment, as if she’s completely overcome. “I’ve bared my body and my soul to you, and I have never, ever done that for anyone before. So please, I’m begging you. Tell me what the hell happened!”