One Week Girlfriend part 1

directly in front of me, so close our chests brush against each other.
    Without warning, he wraps his hands around my waist and hauls me up, setting me on the edge of the bathroom counter. I let go a little squeal and he steps in between my legs. He’s even closer to me now and I tip my head back, meeting his troubled gaze.
    “I don’t want to talk about it,” he whispers. “I want to tell you, but I can’t.”
    I touch his face and he leans into my palm, closing his eyes. I study his beautiful face and I’m consumed by the urge to kiss him. Lose myself in him.
    “Keeping it all bottled up inside isn’t healthy.” I stroke his cheek and he opens his eyes. “You really should talk to someone.” I’m trying to make him realize I want to be the one he talks to about whatever’s bothering him.
    “I can’t.”
    “All right. Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.” I drop my hand from his face and prop myself on the edge of the tiled counter, lifting up as best as I can, and press a kiss to his cheek. I want him to know that I’ll be there for him no matter what. I don’t care what sort of secrets he’s hiding—and I have a feeling they’re pretty awful—I want to stand by him and help him.
    He might be more trouble than he’s worth but I don’t think so. This man came into my life for some reason. Just as I came into his. Maybe we’re supposed to help each other cope.
    Or give each other hope.

 
     
    Chapter Nine
     
     
    Day 4, 1:12 p.m .
     
    She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; she is woman, and therefore to be won . – William Shakespeare
     
    Drew
     
    I took Fable to lunch as a sort of thank you for putting up with my shit. What I did to her last night was inexcusable, but somehow she found a way to forgive me. She’s so good to me I don’t know what I did to deserve her.
    Buying her a nice lunch is such a lame attempt to show my appreciation, but it’s all I’ve got. What I really want to do to show my thanks, I don’t think she’d be very receptive to. Despite the sweet kiss on the cheek she gave me last night and the reassuring hug she offered before we both went to bed, they definitely had more of a sisterly vibe than a I’m-hot-for-you vibe.
    Too bad, because she’s driving me crazy and I’m having a hard time concentrating. I’d rather take her to bed, strip her naked and bury myself inside her so I can forget, for at least a little while. I want to map every inch of her skin with my mouth. I want to sit with her in my arms and kiss her for hours, until our lips are swollen and our jaws are tired. I want to know what she looks like when she comes. And I want to be the one who makes her come with my name falling from her lips.
    I have never felt this way before about any girl. Ever. I sound like a complete pussy, but Fable overwhelms me—in a good way. And I’ve known her less than a week.
    Sometimes, I guess that’s all it takes.
    “I love this restaurant.” She looks around after the waitress brought us our plates, the smile on Fable’s face the happiest I’ve seen her since I brought her to this town where I grew up. “It’s so cute. And the food smells amazing.”
    Everything in downtown Carmel is what I’d label as cute. It’s got a doll-like feel to it, lots of cottages everywhere and everything’s tiny, all the narrow passages and secret hideaways. It’s like a fairy tale.
    “Dig in,” I encourage because I’m starving and ready to take my own advice. I ordered a chicken club sandwich while Fable ordered some sort of Asian chicken salad. I take a couple of bites, so involved in stuffing my mouth full of food, I’m missing out on the look of pure bliss on Fable’s face as she eats.
    I set the sandwich on my plate, completely transfixed. It’s ridiculous, my reaction to her. Doesn’t help that I’m horny as hell and everything she does seems to turn me on.
    But she’s really enjoying that salad. Her eyes are half-closed and she’s wearing this dreamy expression. She licks her lips, the sight of her pink tongue doing me in and I swallow hard, my appetite for food suddenly gone.
    My appetite for Fable comes roaring to life instead.
    “This is amazing. Like, the best dressing I’ve ever tasted.” She looks at me, her delicate brows bunched. “Are you okay? I thought you were hungry?”
    “Uhh…” Busted.
    “You’re not eating. You don’t like it?” Her concern is sweet, but this has nothing to do with a freaking sandwich and