Second Chance Boyfriend (Drew + Fable #2)(40)

We’re at a restaurant now, Drew and I. He ran out of food in his apartment and we were starving, so we finally made our escape. Plus, I thought it might be good to be out in public like real people versus naked and rolling around in his bed all day and night.

Staring at him from across the table, I realize pretty quickly being out in public like real people is totally overrated.

“What do you want to order?” His head is bent, his dark hair tumbling over his forehead as he reads over the menu. I wonder when he last got a haircut. I like it longer. It’s easier for me to run my fingers through and grip when I kiss him.

“I don’t know.” I sound breathless, I feel breathless, but he doesn’t notice. He props his elbow on the table, absently scratches his temple with his index finger, and I remember exactly what that index finger did to me earlier. How he circled my ni**les with that finger, how he slipped it between my legs, drenched it with my wetness and then brought it up to his mouth, licking it, tasting me, his gaze never leaving mine…

I’m squirming in my seat like some sort of horny freak. And the man is clueless.

“I thought you said you were hungry.” He glances up, his gaze catching mine. “What are you in the mood for?”

You, I want to tell him but jeez. I had him not even an hour ago. What’s wrong with me? I go without Drew for a couple of months and now I act like I need him every minute of every day.

“I don’t know.” I open the menu to check out my options. I’ve never eaten at this restaurant. It’s close to Drew’s apartment and I’m rarely in this part of town. “What’s good here?”

“Fable.” His deep, quiet voice makes me glance up and I find him watching me, his dark brows drawn, a little frown curving his mouth. “Are you okay?”

He’s got both elbows propped on the table now, his hands clasped together, and I want those hands on me. His black long-sleeve shirt clings to his arms, accentuating his bulging biceps, those broad shoulders, that wide chest. I’ve explored every inch of his body the last few days and it’s still not enough. I can’t believe he’s really mine.

And I can’t believe I’m his.

“I’m not very hungry,” I admit.

His frown deepens. “You’re the one who wanted to come here.”

I shrug, feeling silly, my gaze locked on his hands. They are so big. Long fingers, wide palms, a little rough, a little smooth. I love how they touch me, sometimes gentle, sometimes with force. I like it best when he wraps my hair around his fingers and tugs. Oh God, I really love it when he does that…

I want those hands on me. Now. “I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought.” My stomach is fluttering with nerves. I don’t want to eat. I want Drew. I feel sort of crazed with it. Like I need to have him as much as possible before he slips through my fingers and I lose him forever.

But I’m not going to lose him. We’re in this together. I need to remember that—and believe it.

“You’re being weird.” Worry fills his eyes. “Are you mad? Did I do something?”

He’s breathing—that does it for me. “I’m not mad. I’m, um…” I let my voice trail off, feeling like an idiot.

“You’re what?”

“I’m looking at your hands,” I admit with a little sigh. Can I admit out loud I’m horny? That would sound ridiculous.

Those dark brows shoot up practically to his hairline. “Why?”

My cheeks are hot. I squirm in my seat again. “I’m…remembering what they did to me earlier.”

The frown is gone, replaced with a wicked smile that sends my body temperature skyrocketing. He leans across the table, his voice so low it vibrates through my body and settles between my legs. “Maybe we should go back to my place so I can do that to you all over again.”

Oh my God, that sounds like the best idea ever. “Maybe we should.”

The smile never leaves his face. In fact, it grows bigger. My quiet, hesitant Drew has morphed into some sort of cocky sex god. “You don’t want to order anything?”

I slowly shake my head. “Can’t we just get pizza again? Later?” We had it last night too. “From somewhere different this time. You know, just to mix it up. Or maybe Chinese? I love Chinese.”

He laughs, the sound husky. “You said you wanted to get out of the house for a while because you worried we were becoming addicted to each other.”

“Is that what I said?” I honestly can’t remember. What’s wrong with being addicted to each other? Aren’t we still in this pretend mode where we’re normal people who like to have sex without hang-ups or issues? I wonder if Drew has ever had sex like this. Carefree and so…normal.

“Yep.” He nods.

“Maybe I like being addicted to you,” I admit softly. We haven’t said we loved each other yet. I can’t work up the nerve. Maybe he can’t either. Silly considering how consumed with love I am for him. He is just…amazing. Sweet. Attentive. Funny. Smart. Sexy.

I understand him. He understands me. We’re perfect for each other.

Maybe we’re too perfect together. Too perfect doesn’t really exist. This could all be a façade. Just like our week together over the Thanksgiving break.

That week felt fake, though. Surreal. There were real, grounding moments, but for the most part, we were caught up in an act. Maybe we’re pretending right now too, but I’m trying to be as real as I can with him. Without the baggage and the heartache and the trouble hanging over us. For at least a little while.