Drew + Fable Forever (One Week Girlfriend #3.5)(36)

But since I’ve had Autumn, I’m scared to death to let him see me. The real me, with the scars and the stretch marks and the extra skin and the … oh, God. I’m going to have a panic attack just thinking about it.

I smell him before I see him, his deliciously spicy masculine scent preceding him as he walks back into our bedroom. He’s smiling, that wicked, arousing smile he flashes me right before he pounces. Wearing only his boxer briefs, he’s beautiful.

Quickly I tug the sheet and comforter over me, hoping he didn’t see too much. I’m in my panties and a stained 49ers T-shirt. I look like hell. For once in my life, while lying in bed waiting for my husband, I wish I could disappear.

He stops at the foot of the bed, his dark brows creased in worry as he studies me. “Fable.” His low, soothing voice does nothing to calm the nerves rioting in my belly. “What’s wrong?”

I shrug, hoping I sound convincing. “I’m … not in the mood right now. Sorry. Maybe later?” The words feel like complete lies falling from my lips. I am in the mood. I desperately miss my husband. But I don’t want him to see me like this.

His frown deepens. “Not in the mood?”

Have I ever said that to him? Probably not.

Pressing my lips together, I nod. “I’m tired.”

“I’ll take a nap with you. We can all take a nap until Autumn wakes up.”

“But aren’t there things you need to do today?” I ask weakly, watching as he rounds the bed, tugs back the covers, and climbs in with me. “It’s your day off.”

“My day off that I planned to spend with you and Autumn doing nothing but hanging out with my girls.” He hauls me to him and I have no choice but to lay my head on his warm, firm chest. I can feel his heart beat beneath my ear, steady and strong, and I close my eyes, breathing deep. Feeling … right.

Whole.

“You’re tired, baby,” he murmurs against the top of my head just before he drops a kiss on it. “I understand.” His hand rests on my shoulder, then runs down my back in a slow, smooth gesture. A sigh escapes me at his touch and he slides his hand beneath the hem of my T-shirt, touching my bare back. “Where’s your bra?”

This is what my life has been reduced to. Not my husband thrilled at having me braless but concerned. Everything revolves around nursing bras and heavy br**sts full of milk and a greedy, hungry baby who can’t get enough of it. I don’t feel sexy. I feel like a feeding machine. I don’t even remember the last time I felt sexy. Months ago? Before the third trimester? I was horny and lusting for my husband during the second trimester, jumping Drew everywhere and anywhere I could. He loved it. I loved it.

Now I’m doing my best to avoid him as much as possible. This is crazy.

“I’m sick of wearing it,” I admit to him. “It’s ugly and unsexy and sometimes it digs into my skin.”

“Then you need a new one if it’s hurting you.”

I say nothing, just play with the hairs at the center of his chest, press a kiss to the spot where I can feel his beating heart. He shifts against me, I can feel his erection nudge against my belly, and I close my eyes, everything inside of me going loose and fluttery.

“Fable.” I lift my head at the serious tone of his voice. He’s watching me, concern etched into his handsome features. “I want you.”

I close my eyes and slowly shake my head. “No, you really don’t.”

“I think I know if I want you or not.” He sounds amused, and I crack open my eyes to find him smiling at me. My heart, my everything, melts at seeing that smile. I remember when it was hard earned. Now that smile always comes so easily and I feel responsible for that. “And I definitely want you. But I’ll respect your wishes if you don’t want to be with me right now.”

He says it like that and his words break my heart. I think he knows this, too. Not that he’s being manipulative, but …

My husband has no problem doing what he can to get what he wants. Always to my benefit, though.

Always.

“I look terrible,” I admit in a small voice. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Like what?” His expression softens, as does his voice. “Ah, Fable.” Reaching out, he settles a large, warm hand on my cheek, cupping my face as he leans down to brush my lips with his. “You’re beautiful.”

“I need to lose weight,” I say.

“I like all the extra curves.”

“My boobs are ginormous.”

“I have a thing for your boobs. You know this.”

A sigh escapes me and I shake my head. “You watched me give birth to Autumn. You’re probably traumatized. I’ve read articles about that. How men aren’t aroused by their wives anymore because they watched them have their baby and it freaked them out.”

“You’re reading way too much into this,” he says, his hand going to the back of my head and tangling in my hair.

I don’t bother protesting. He won’t listen to me anyway. And he knows I won’t really stop him, either. I’m giving in because how can I not? Drew’s persuasive lips, his quick but gentle hands, his big, hard body … all of it overpowers me. I succumb so easily because I want to.

I need to.

“It’s been too long,” he murmurs, his cheek pressed to mine, his mouth close to my ear. He nuzzles me, I can both feel and hear him inhale as if he’s trying to somehow absorb me, and I close my eyes against the heady sensation of having my husband completely surround me.