Drew + Fable Forever
Page 15

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.
I don’t bother answering him, agreeing with him because he knows I feel the same way. It’s definitely been too long. I can’t believe I let my hangups keep us apart. Why did I even want to resist him? Look at him. Look at how he looks at me, as if he worships the ground I walk on. I feel the same exact way about him.
He pulls away from me so he can strip off my clothes, his gaze focused on my face, as if he knows if he looks anywhere else I’ll become incredibly self-conscious, which I will. He kisses me, his tongue tangling with mine, his hands taking a path along my body, careful around my breasts, sliding along my waist, until he grips my h*ps and positions me just so.
Cautious but bold. Gentle but strong. That’s my Drew. He’s so completely attuned to my needs. I feel his erection, hard against my thigh, hot through the thin barrier of his cotton boxer briefs. I forget all of my worries, all of my fears of him seeing me na**d. All I can do is feel and revel in his love. The love that flows from his every touch, from his lips and from his tongue.
“I love you,” he whispers close to my ear, his mouth damp on my flesh. “I’ve missed you like this.”
I’ve missed him, too, but I don’t need to say it. Not when I can show it.
Chapter Twelve
Fable
I let my hands wander, along Drew’s arms, down his chest, skimming his ridged abdomen. His stomach trembles beneath my touch and I smile, thrilled that I can still affect him this way.
It’s still hard for me to believe we’ve been together for years. That we’re a married couple, that he’s my husband and I’m his wife and we have a sweet daughter who is everything to us. He’s a famous football player and I guess I’m his famous wife. My brother is starting his second year of college. He seems happy. We’re all happy.
We’re all lucky we have each other.
Drew grabs me out of nowhere and rolls me over so I’m flat on my back and he’s hovering above me. He’s staring down at me, still the beautiful boy I first fell in love with but now he’s so much more. He’s a man. A protective, smart, gorgeous, talented man who also happens to be the best father in the world. And he’s looking at me at this very moment as if he’s about to devour me.
A tiny thrill rolls down my spine at the realization.
“I can’t even believe you’d think I’d find you too fat or whatever.” He rakes his gaze blatantly over my body and I feel even more na**d than I already am. “You look amazing, Fable.”
“I’m still carrying an extra fifteen pounds,” I confess with a wince.
“I don’t care.” He bends down to kiss me, his mouth lingering on mine. “None of that matters.”
“Some women just bounce right back,” I start to protest but he cuts me off with his lips, silencing me with a sweetly passionate kiss. He trails his tongue across the seam of my lips and I open for him, winding my arms around him so I can run my hands down the broad width of his back.
“I don’t care about other women,” he murmurs after he breaks our kiss. “I only care about you.”
I clutch him close as he moves down my body, his hands sliding along my sides, then settling at my h*ps so he can grip my waist. He kisses my neck, my collarbone, my chest, and I shift beneath him, feeling restless and needy. It really has been too long since we’ve done this. I never want to turn into that old married couple who never have sex. We’re too young for that sort of nonsense.
“You’re perfect just as you are,” he whispers against my belly and I giggle when his warm breath tickles me. “Never lose sight of the fact that I love you for you, Fable. That I also happen to think you’re gorgeous is just a bonus.”
God, when he says stuff like that I want to cry. Seriously. “I’m so glad you’re home,” I whisper as he moves back up to kiss me. He’s na**d, he somehow he kicked off his underwear, and I know he’s ready. Despite his reassurances, I’m still self-conscious and he realizes it. He’s being very careful of me and I appreciate it so much.
“Is it okay to have sex?” he asks, his brows furrowed in concern. “I mean, I know the doctor gave her okay, but how are you feeling?”
“Honestly? I’m a little nervous.” Fine, I’m a lot nervous, but I don’t want to freak him out. “Just … go slow, okay?”
“I will.” He kisses me, his lips gentle and sweet. “I promise.”
And he does go slow, his patience for me an unspoken reassurance. We kiss for what feels like hours, his hands sliding all over my body, touching me in all the precise places he knows I like. He strokes me between my legs, circling my cl*twith his index finger until I subtly start to move against his hand, losing myself in his touch. I come this way surprisingly quick, his mouth on mine, his fingers touching me, and I pull away from him to cry out as I arch into his hand.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs when my orgasm is over, and I reach for him, stroking his erection, marveling at how big he is, how hard. It’s been a long time for both of us and it’s left me feeling a little disconnected from him. I’m eager to get that connection back, to feel whole again. To feel as one with Drew.
I think he feels the same.
He enters me with tenderness, his touch light, his c**k thick as he pushes inside of me. I lie there completely still, taking him all in, breathing through his movements, and he pauses. His arms are braced on either side of my head and he presses his forehead against mine, staring at me with that familiar, intense blue gaze. “All right?”
Nodding, I smile. “Definitely all right.”
Drew kisses me and then begins to really move. Still keeping the pace slow but steady. I feel like I’m floating, my body engulfed in pleasure as I hold him close, his skin imprinted on mine. I can smell him, fresh and clean from his shower, along with a mixture of faint sweat and sex. His thrusts begin to quicken. Harder, faster, and I’m relieved I feel no pain beyond the initial discomfort of him pushing inside of me.
“I love you,” he whispers before he kisses me. A sloppy, almost desperate kiss, which tells me he’s close. “I’m gonna come, Fable.”
He reaches in between us before I can say anything, touching my clit, thrusting deep. “I-I’m close, too,” I stutter, closing my eyes against the onslaught of sensation that’s sweeping over my skin.
And then I’m coming. So is he. We’re coming together and that doesn’t happen very often but somehow, at this very moment, it is happening. We cling to each other, our soft moans loud, our shivery bodies electric as our skin sticks together. I’m breathing so loud I sound like I just ran a marathon, and so does he.
“Damn, that was ama—” he starts but is interrupted.
A wail sounds in the next room and I start to laugh. “Autumn has great timing.”
He pulls away from me and crawls out of bed, slipping on a pair of sweats that he’d thrown over a chair. “I’ll go get her,” he says, the look he gives me so full of unbridled emotion a shiver steals through me, making me hot. For him.
I have the best husband in the entire world.
Drew
I bring Autumn back into bed with us and she lies in between us, Fable back in her panties and a fresh T-shirt, her hair pulled into a sloppy knot on top of her head. She looks pretty and young, much like she did when I first met her, and I have no idea why she’s so worried about her weight. I think she looks f**king amazing.
“She’s spoiled,” Fable says, tickling Autumn’s chubby belly and making her smile.
“Why do you say that?”
“We’re going to give her everything she could ever want.” Fable sighs. “She’s a lucky little girl.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” I grab Autumn’s fist, pry open her tiny, perfect fingers, and she curls them around my index finger. “Damn, this girl has a strong grip.”
“Don’t say that word,” Fable says primly. “Her ears must remain pristine.”
“Please.” I roll my eyes. “You’re taking this too far, Fable.”