“We can talk.” He reaches out and settles his hand on my arm. His palm is warm, his fingers slightly rough as they stroke my skin, and instantly my body reacts. I’m all tingly and my heart rate has kicked up. I think of how Colin touched me earlier and nothing happened.
I think of how Drew merely looks at me and I immediately want to shed my clothes and bare my very soul to him.
“Talk about what?”
“I need to tell you what’s…what’s going on.” He squeezes my arm and I squeeze my eyes shut, overwhelmed with sensation. God, his touch feels so good. “I need to apologize for the shitty way I treated you.”
An apology is a start in the positive direction. I might be fooling myself but I want to hear what he has to say. I need an explanation. “Okay. I’d love to hear an apology from you.”
“Are you going to make me say it now?”
“For the first one, yes.” I nod.
“There’s going to be more than one?”
I glance in his direction to see he’s teasing me. And it’s sort of cute, the way he’s looking at me, the smile on his face. “Definitely,” I say with another nod. “I want the first one now. Before we leave the truck.”
He schools his expression, looking incredibly solemn and serious. “Fable. I’m sorry.” He lifts my hand and brushes a kiss across my knuckles.
His mouth on my skin leaves me weak-kneed and I’m not even standing. The playful way he’s acting doesn’t help matters either. I need to remember he’s drunk. He’s not in the right state of mind.
“Now, come inside with me. I won’t try anything, I promise.” He makes an X at the center of his chest with his index finger. “Scout’s honor.”
“Were you really a scout?”
“No.” He smiles. “But you can trust me.”
I know I can. I both want him to give me space so I can absorb everything that’s happened tonight and I also want him all over me. I’m confused.
This is what he does to me every time we’re together.
We get out of the truck and I follow him across the parking lot without protest. Let him guide me to his front door without a word, though I can feel his presence behind me. I inhale sharply when he sets his hand low on my back to steer me in the right direction.
He doesn’t remove his hand either until we get to the front door. Like he needs that connection.
I need it too.
When he unlocks the door, he indicates for me to walk in first and I enter his quiet, dark apartment. He flicks on a light, revealing a room devoid of anything beyond a couch, a matching chair and a flat-screen TV. There are no pictures, no knickknacks, no mess. Nothing beyond the basic essentials.
The room lacks warmth. Like no one real lives here. It reminds me of the Drew I first met. That version felt nothing, acted like nothing affected him. He’d been an emotionless shell of a human being.
I like to think I changed him in a matter of days. I taught him to feel. To open up and deal with his emotions, his wants and his needs. That my influence taught him it might be okay to be human again.
Turning to face him, I study his expression. His eyes are bleary, his hair is mussed and his cheeks are pale. He looks tired and a little loopy. Yet again, I want to touch him. Touch his bristly cheek, trace his expressive mouth with my finger…
“Do you want to talk?”
His question startles me. He doesn’t look like he wants to talk. More like he probably wants to collapse in bed. “Do you?”
“There are things I should say to you, yeah. But I’m drunk and I’ll probably mess it up somehow.” His voice is soft and he runs his palm across his cheek, doing the very thing I wanted to do only moments before.
My hands literally itch to reach out and touch him.
“Maybe we should sleep on it first.” I can’t face everything yet. My mind is working on overtime and I need to quiet it. Plus, I’m scared at what he might say. What if I don’t want to hear his explanations? What if he’s only being kind tonight and wants to let me down gently?
But then I remember his jealousy over Colin. The way he looked at me. How he kissed me, how his arms felt around me.
Drew still wants me. I know it. I still want him. Being with him tonight would most likely be a mistake. Am I strong enough to resist him?
Is he strong enough to resist me? The pull between us is there, like an invisible thread that draws us closer and closer when we’re in the same room together.
“Can I sleep on your couch?” I wave my hand in the couch’s direction. It’s big and looks comfortable enough.
He shakes his head with a grimace. “No way. I’ll take the couch. You can have my bed.”
Oh, God. I can’t take his bed. It’ll smell like him. My imagination will run wild the moment I touch the mattress, the second my head hits his pillow. It’s been too long since we’ve been together and having him so close, I want to launch myself at him and never, ever let go.
“I’d rather have the couch.” My voice is shaky and I breathe deep, trying to control my emotions, but I’m ragged. Completely undone. A tear sneaks down my cheek and I sniff. I hate crying. I rarely do it.
“Fable.” His deep voice is so low, it rumbles through me and I bend my head. I don’t want him to see my useless tears. “Look at me.”
I shake my head. “No.”
He slips his fingers beneath my chin and tilts my face up so I have no choice but to look at him. His gaze is dark as he wipes away a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “You’re crying.”