Chapter 28
Fable
“I think you forgot we have a No Sleepovers rule,” I remind Theo as he opens the hotel room door.
“I did, in fact, remember that.” He waves for me to walk in first. “Which is why I requested two beds.”
Well, look at that. He did. Yet, for some annoying reason, a sharp pang of disappointment burns through me. I’m the one who set the rule, yet I’m the one annoyed about it? Make it make sense.
The only way to fight that feeling is to give Theo shit for it. “I don’t know. Isn’t it technically still a sleepover because we’re sleeping in the same room?”
He gives me an unimpressed look before setting our containers of leftover shrimp scampi in the tiny fridge. “It’s a gray area.”
I cross my arms. “If one of us is sleeping in the same space as the other, it’s a sleepover.”
“Then we don’t need to worry about it, because we’ve already broken the No Sleepovers rule when you slept sprawled across me at the drive-in.” Gotcha, his expression says.
Dammit. Between my birthday and the drive-in, I’ve slept extremely well cuddled up to him twice now. I fear it’s going to become an addiction if I keep letting it happen.
I motion toward the bed closer to the door. “Fine. You can have that one.”
Walking to the dresser, I set my phone and crossbody bag on the surface. I kick off my shoes, watching Theo in the mirror in front of me as he slips out of his.
Today has felt very couple-y. After Barb’s Books, we had lunch on a breezy patio, where Theo and I shared two meals because I couldn’t decide which I wanted more.
We visited a thrift store, where I tried to talk him out of getting a lamp that looks like a tower of puppies in a trench coat.
(“This is literally me,” he’d said, holding it up beside his face.
And he’s not wrong, so it’s sitting in the back seat of his truck now.) Then we took a walk in a nearby park (with a not-so-brief pause to make out against a tree) before having dinner on another beautiful patio, where he let me steal bites of his pasta the entire meal.
It’s been effortless and easy, and I hope that means we have a chance of staying friends once this is over—that we haven’t blown it all to shreds with our friends-with-benefits arrangement.
His gaze meets mine in the mirror, and he gives me a curious look. “You okay?”
My voice comes out wobbly as I blurt out my thoughts. “Do you think we’ll still be friends when this is all over?”
That question seems to surprise him. “Why wouldn’t we?” He walks closer, watching me in the mirror.
“I don’t know.” I scan our reflection. “After all the different chapters we’ve been through, it’s hard to picture what that would look like.”
His chin comes to rest on my shoulder, arms around my waist. “In an ideal world, what would it look like to you?”
Color seeps into my cheeks. “Today was nice.”
A soft hum. “It was.”
“So something like that? Without the kissing at the park?”
Something seems to shift behind his dark eyes. After a moment, he says, “Right. Friends, minus the kissing.”
“Friends, minus the kissing,” I repeat. “Once this is over.”
His lips drag over the soft spot between my neck and shoulder. “But until then?”
No guilt, no emotions. “Until then”—I tip my head back to give him more access—“we take full advantage.”
A deep, needy sound rumbles out of him. His hands slip under the hem of my shirt to wrap around me and pull me right against him, igniting a pool of heat low in my belly.
Some foggy part of me wonders if I’ll even be able to give this up.
Will this wanting feeling fade right away?
Or ever? I’ve never wanted like this—so greedily and viscerally that I feel like I’m drowning in it.
Is this how he felt in his last friends-with-benefits situation?
I don’t know what I’m doing here or what it’s supposed to feel like. Is it always so consuming?
My breaths are quick with anticipation. He grips the bottom of my shirt and steps back to pull it off and toss it aside. I watch his reflection as he devours the sight of me, his gaze trailing down my neck, to the green lace covering my breasts.
“You’re beautiful, Fable.” His eyes are shining with something I can’t identify, but it shoots straight into the chambers of my heart and glows there.
Slowly, his fingers curl around my bra strap, then pause, waiting for permission. I nod, breathless, before he slips it down my shoulder. He does the same with the other side, then unhooks the back, and the bra falls to the floor. Cool air sweeps over my skin and tightens my nipples.
“I can’t . . . I . . . Fuck. Look at you.” Theo lets out a low groan, gaze flickering everywhere at once. His hands hover but don’t touch, almost like he can’t decide what to do first.
I’m topless in front of the mirror, my breasts practically begging for his attention, but he chooses to focus on my tattoo first. With the lightest touch, he starts at my wrist, trailing his fingers up, swirling and curving around the flowers, caressing them like he wants to be gentle with the delicate petals, and it lights me aflame.
“I love this tattoo,” he murmurs, his eyes tracking his path. There’s a twitch in his jaw, desperation in his eyes. “Do you have plans for more?”
Swallowing thickly, I barely manage to form words. “I want some tulips, I think.”
His deep hum sends goose bumps up my neck. “More flowers?”
“I love them,” I whisper.
“Me too.” When his fingers reach my shoulder, he replaces them with his lips, brushing kisses over the dark lines as his hands finally cup my breasts.
I whimper, tipping my head back to his chest. He caresses me, molds me, teases my nipples.
That achy feeling pounds hot and heavy in my core and spreads out through the rest of my body.
I look desperate, cheeks flushed and chest heaving.
That infuriating, cocky grin pulls at his mouth, but I don’t hate it this time. It promises me things I need.
Lips graze my throat, and he lowers his hands to my jeans. “Can I take these off, sweetheart?”
“Mm-hmm,” I reply, and he unbuttons them with a flick of his wrist. The zipper rasps through the quiet room, revealing a bit of green lace in the mirror.
He tucks his fingers into the waistband and drags them down my hips, kneeling behind me to help me step out of the denim. When only my thong remains, a low, gritty sound leaves his throat.
The carpet is soft under my bare feet as he turns me to face him, his hands curved around my hips. Dark lashes lift, and he stares up the line of my body. As I slide my fingers into his hair, my memory flashes back to the storage closet yesterday. Rough hands and dark eyes and whispered praise.
I may have been the one on my knees, but he worshipped me.
His palms glide slowly over my hips, down my thighs, up to my ass, like he’s memorizing every inch of me through his reverent touch.
He leans forward, grazing his lips over the sunflowers tattooed at my right hip.
“I get the whole bitable forearms thing now. I want to bite this tattoo so bad I might die.”
A breathy laugh tumbles out of me. “Go ahead.”
“Really?” His eyes flare, hopeful and bright.
Palms on my ass to hold me steady, he pulls me to his mouth and grazes his teeth over the flowers.
It’s not even sharp enough to sting, but then he soothes it with his tongue and lips before moving to another spot, leaving a trail of little nips.
A deep, possessive groan rumbles against my skin.
When his mouth makes it to the lacy band at my hip, I nearly jump out of my skin.
His eyes crash with mine as his teeth clamp onto the fabric and drag them down.
My heart is a drum in my ears, pounding with every millimeter he moves them.
At my knees, his hands take over until he helps me out of them.
Shadows play over his grin. “Mine now,” he whispers, shoving them into his back pocket.
“Thief,” I grumble, but there’s no heat behind it.
He sits back on his heels, fists clenched tightly on his thighs.
“You all right down there?” I ask, grinning.
“Fuck’s sake, Fable. You make me nervous.”
A pleased hum. “Well, you look damn good on your knees.” I thread my fingers through his hair. “Such a good boy.”
His eyes get impossibly darker. One hand lands low on my stomach and he pushes me back until my hips bump the dresser. Then he grips my thigh and lifts, propping my knee on his shoulder. “You’re going to need something to hold on to, sweetheart.”
A wave of sharp desire crashes through me. I follow his directions, gripping the edge of the surface behind me.
He takes in the sight of me above him. “You should see yourself right now. A fucking goddess.” His voice is a strained whisper, barely in control.
And I believe him. I really do. It’s etched into his expression. He looks at me like I’m someone special. Someone to be treasured.
His attention lowers as he slips his free hand between my thighs. Just one, slow touch through my arousal and my hips shift uncontrollably.
A downright devilish grin takes over his face. “You sure do like me on my knees for you.”
I can’t even argue. The evidence is currently soaking his fingers.
Gaze fused with mine, he draws closer and slides his tongue through me.
I whimper, my nails digging into his hair like an anchor to keep me from drifting away.
His eyes close, a low groan bleeding out of him as he plays with my clit, licking and swirling and teasing like he’s been desperate to do just this for years.
It’s too much and not enough at the same time. I’m pretty sure I’m not breathing again. My hips push toward him, begging for more. And he gives it, swearing against my pussy and sucking at my clit. A long, low moan tears out of me, bouncing off the walls of our room.
He pulls away, breaths stuttered, lips glossy. “Can I do this every day?” he asks, a whimper chasing his words. “Please. I’ll be so good.”
“Mm-hmm,” I mutter mindlessly, gripping his hair to push him back where I want him. Need him. I might cry if I don’t get to experience the orgasm waiting just out of reach. “Yes. Please. Right there,” I whisper, his tongue swirling over my clit again.
His grip tightens on my thigh, holding me in place as he dips two fingers into my core. I clench around him, my hips squirming greedily, chasing the pleasure that’s just out of reach. It’s so close. I’m a burning fuse, about to erupt—
But Theo drags his mouth away. His fingers slip out of me, leaving my body pulsing around nothing.
I audibly whine, not caring at all how I sound. “What are you doing?”
He licks his lips, flashing that annoying lopsided grin. “Oh, did you want to come?”