Second Chance Boyfriend

salvation.
    “Smoking kills, you know.” I said that to her the night of the country club dinner. The night I first kissed her, first learned her taste, how she felt beneath my hands, the breathy little sounds she makes when she’s becoming aroused.
    She sends me a withering stare, accompanied by an exhale of smoke in my direction. “Then leave so you don’t have to breathe my cancerous air.”
    I’m rooted to the spot. Afraid to approach her for fear she’ll tell me to fuck off, which I deserve. “I’m glad I found you. I wanted to talk to you.”
    “Really?” She arches a brow, her cigarette dangling from her fingers. “What more could you have to say? I mean, I got your message pretty loud and clear after I didn’t hear from you.”
    “You’re right. It was a dick move. I totally deserve your anger.” I take a deep breath. “Listen, I know what I did was wrong. I shouldn’t have walked away from you.”
    “You didn’t just walk away. You stayed away for over two months. Probably would’ve been longer too, if you hadn’t seen me tonight, right? Were you just going to avoid me forever?” She bends over and stubs the cigarette out in the tray that’s sitting at her feet.
    I stare at Fable, overcome with having her in front of me after not being near her for so long. She’s beautiful, pissed at me and so… God. I don’t even know what to think. Seeing her again is like having a million electric shocks bolting through my veins, both paralyzing me and goading me into action. I’m…overcome.
    All I know is I need her. Now more than ever. “I don’t know what I was going to do,” I finally say.
    “Typical. I feel like a doll. Like a stupid, pretty doll no one cares about, forgotten on a shelf. Every once in a while, you or whoever else wants to take me down from the shelf and play with me for a bit. Just enough to get my hopes up and make me believe someone really cares about me. Then I’m forgotten again. Like I don’t even exist.” She tosses her head back and gazes up at the dark sky. “My mom was pretty dead on when she named me Fable, wasn’t she? I don’t feel real to anyone.”
    “You’re real to me,” I whisper. So damn real, it hurts not to touch her.
    I want her in my arms so bad it’s killing me.
    She stands and crosses her arms in front of her chest, plumping up her breasts in the sexy-as-hell black bra that I can see through the thin white lace shirt she has on. The outfit kills me. I want to both tear it off of her and throw a coat over her shoulders so no other guy can see her like this. “I can’t do this, Drew. I can’t pretend like seeing you after so long is no big deal when really my heart is cracking in two.” A laugh escapes her, though it lacks humor. “I think it’s best if we stay away from each other. Having you in front of me hurts too much.”
    My heart bottoms out. Completely. I can’t even believe she’s saying this. Fighting the panic that threatens to sweep me under, I step closer to her. “Fable…”
    She steps back, looking scared, as if she has nowhere to go, and that makes me feel like shit. “You should go.”
    I take another step toward her, and she takes another one back, bumping against the wall behind her. She’s trapped, she knows it, and all I can think is thank God she can’t run away from me. “You don’t want me to leave.”
    “Yes, I do.” She nods, her expression firm, but her voice is weak.
    I move in so close I invade her personal space. Her warmth, her scent wraps around me, intoxicating me, and I brace my hands on the wall above her head, my arms bracketing her. I’ve got her completely caged in, and as I gaze down at her pretty, angry upturned face, all I can think is how much I want to kiss her and smudge that bright red lipstick all to hell. “How late do you work?” I ask, my voice low, my thoughts…dirty. I want to get her home. Naked. In my bed. Impossible considering how I’ve ruined this fragile thing between us, but I have hopes I can turn everything around.
    The trembling in her body is a clue she’s not over me. The way she’s looking at me with all that pent-up longing in her gaze tells me I still have a chance too.
    “Too late to meet with you after.” Reaching out, she pushes at my chest, her slender hands resting on my front, and I hiss in a breath as if she’s burned me.
    But shit. It feels like she has. Having her hands on me again after so long, it’s like she’s branding me. Making