Chapter 10 #2
A low groan escapes him and he stiffens, his entire body tense for that one hanging moment before he completely falls apart.
He’s coming all over my fingers as I keep my hand on him, his body convulsing, his hips jerking.
A potent wave of satisfaction washes over me and I lean up and kiss him, tangle our tongues together, smiling when he breaks the kiss to release a shuddery little moan.
Pulling away from him, I climb out of bed without a word and head for the bathroom across the hall. I flick on the lights, my image in the mirror startling me, and I stop and stare for a moment.
My eyes sparkle, my cheeks are flushed, and my lips are swollen from his crushing kisses. My entire body is covered in a rosy blush and my nipples are hard.
I wish Drew could see me. That we didn’t have to be so covered in darkness. Does the darkness make it easier for him?
Pushing the gloomy thoughts from my head, I wash my hands, turn off the faucet, and try my damnedest to smooth out my hair. It’s a tangled mess, wild waves all around my face, and I blame the rain.
I also blame the man who buried his hands in my hair so he could hold me still and kiss me senseless.
I catch his silhouette when I slip into the bedroom. He’s still lying where I left him, though at least his breathing has evened out. I go to him, crawling on top of the bed, where I kneel beside him.
“Fable…” he starts but I shush him, leaning over his face so I can place a finger to his lips.
“Don’t say a word. You might ruin it,” I murmur, and I feel his faint smile against my finger.
Satisfied he’s not going to say something that’ll spoil the moment, I lie down beside him and pull the covers back over us.
Despite my vibrating, on-edge body, I’m exhausted, and the idea of falling back asleep cradled in Drew’s strong arms is just too hard to resist. I snuggle in close, resting my cheek against his rock-hard chest, where I can feel his wildly beating heart.
His fingers are back in my hair and his mouth brushes against my forehead. Contentedness washes over me, heady and potent, and I close my eyes, letting my fingers drift across his skin.
“I know tomorrow’s Thanksgiving and all, so I should probably save this confession for then.
But there’s no way in hell I’m going to say this in front of my parents, so I’ll tell you now what I’m most thankful for,” he whispers against my hair, his low, deep voice soothing me, lulling me into a false hope I’m too tired to fight.
I open my eyes, staring unseeingly into the dark. “What are you most thankful for?” I ask, my breath lodged in my throat. I both want to know and dread knowing what he’s about to say.
He’s silent for a moment, as if gathering up the courage, and my heart constricts for him. “You. Being here, spending time with you, how you take care of me no matter how hard I try to push you away.” His voice hitches and he clears his throat. “I’m thankful for you.”
I say nothing and thankfully, neither does he for long, too-quiet minutes.
My throat is clogged with some unknown emotion I can’t quite put my finger on and I try to swallow past it, but it’s no use.
His muscular arms are tight around me, I feel like I can’t move, I can’t breathe, and with a little cry I slide down and slip out of his embrace, falling out of the bed when I do so.
As I scramble to my feet I hear him sit up, the blankets rustling with his movements. “Fable, what’s wrong?”
Now I’m the one who’s panicking and I hate it. I feel terrible. He didn’t ask for this sort of crappy treatment. He’s just laid his heart out and said he’s thankful for me, and here I go trying to escape. Scared of what he’s saying and how wonderfully real it feels.
But it’s not real. He’s caught up, just like I’m caught up, and I can’t differentiate what’s real from what’s fake anymore. I know he’s in the same place. He wants us to be real and it’s easy to think we’ll work together when we’re all alone, pretending to be something we’re not.
When we return to the real world, we’ll see how different we are. How we could never be a couple.
I’m not good enough for the likes of Andrew D. Callahan.
“I—I need to take a shower.” I suddenly do. The idea of scalding-hot water washing away all of my tumultuous emotions has massive appeal, and I need to get out of here.
“All right.” He clears his throat, and I wonder if he realizes how uncomfortable I am. He must. “Will you…will you come back to bed with me when you’re done?”
It took everything out of him to say that, I could tell, just by the tone of his voice. “Sure,” I lie, feeling terrible. I am the worst sort of person, lying to him. I hate liars. But I’m only lying to myself by thinking Drew can somehow, some way, feel something for me.
I escape his room and hide away in the bathroom, taking the hottest shower I can stand.
I scrub at my skin until it’s red and raw, the steam billowing within the small room and the hot air making me dizzy.
Tears are streaming down my face as I cry ugly, soundless sobs that wrack my body.
I don’t understand why I’m so sad or why I need to get away from Drew.
I don’t regret what I did for him, how I touched him and brought him relief.
Release. If my touching him helped him erase even a little bit of what haunts him, I’m happy I could do that. It’s the least he deserves.
But my reaction to all of this is off-the-charts ridiculous. I’m falling apart. I don’t want to become dependent on Drew, yet it’s too late. I am. Slowly but surely I am, and if I don’t stop it soon, my heart will become so entwined with his, I know I will literally bleed if we’re ever separated.
A shuddering breath escapes me as I step out of the shower and hurriedly dry myself off.
I sneak back into my bedroom and slip on an old pair of sweats and a T-shirt, then dive beneath my cold-as-ice sheets and pull the covers over me, my still-hot body shivering from the difference in temperature compared to the chill in the room.
I’m totally exhausted and emotionally drained, but I don’t sleep well for the rest of the night, tossing and turning, thinking of Drew all alone in the next room. I abandoned him. I let him down.
I’m no better than my mother.
With that realization, I cry.