How she responded to me, the little sounds of pleasure she made in the back of her throat. The feel of her warm, velvety tongue as it slid against mine, her hands in my hair. I can’t remember the last time I was kissed like that. Have I ever been kissed like that? Hell, I really don’t think so.
The realization stops me cold.
We may not speak, but I’m extremely aware of her. The sound of her soft breathing, her sweet scent that makes my mouth water. The heat of her skin, the way her bare shoulder brushes against my arm when she reaches for her glass of water. I wonder if she’s touching me on purpose.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her drink. Her full lips curve around the glass, the delicate line of her throat and its movement as she swallows. The impulse to kiss all that exposed skin is so strong I clench my hands into fists and rest them on my thighs. Willing myself to stop thinking like an idiot.
Doesn’t work. I can’t stop thinking about her. How she felt in my arms, the taste of her still on my lips. I don’t ever fucking think like this ever. I stuffed all useless emotion down deep inside me a long time ago and I’ve refused to let it back out. It’s pointless. I’m like a robot most of the time. Going through the motions, getting through life one day at a time.
But this girl…she doesn’t feel pointless. She’s real and she’s beautiful and she fits perfectly when she’s in my arms. She makes me want to feel.
So dangerous to think like this. I don’t mean anything to her. I’m a means to an end. A job with a paycheck. I did this to myself and now I regret it.
I scowl and slug back the beer I got from the bar earlier. It’s my second one and if I have to endure this for much longer, I’m grabbing another soon. I’m pissed that my plan to parade around a fake girlfriend has gone straight to hell and I have no idea how to stop this train wreck called my emotions. I’m not even sure if I want to stop this.
That’s the stupidest thing of all. How much I want to torture myself. But if it feels good being with her, why would I want to stop?
You’ve done other things that felt real good, but you knew you should stop.
I hate that voice inside my head. It reminds me of all my faults. All the bad shit I’ve done. I’m not a good person and I know it. I don’t need the constant reminders.
“Drew, there you are!” Damn it, it’s Kaylie and she’s got two friends trailing behind her. All girls I went to school with, and all of them perfectly dressed and done up so they look like identical plastic Barbie dolls. It’s hard to tell them apart. “We’ve been looking all over for you. You remember Abby and Ella, right?”
“Yeah. Hey.” I flick my chin in greeting and they all simultaneously flutter their eyelashes at me in response, giggling as they watch me. It’s completely unnerving and I wish they’d leave.
Beside me, I hear a quiet snort emanate from Fable, which makes me smile. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the slightly bemused look on her face, mixed with a dose of irritation. Kaylie is persistent, I gotta give her that, but I wish she would catch a clue.
“There’s dancing later you know,” Kaylie says, oblivious to the death glare Fable’s throwing at her. “Maybe I could steal you away from your—girlfriend. We could catch up, since it’s been a while.”
She makes it sound like we used to be together or something, when truthfully I can barely remember her. I don’t know why this girl is so hell bent on pursuing me.
“Every dance is taken by me tonight. Sorry.” Fable’s voice is bright and cheery but she doesn’t sound one bit sorry. Plus, she’s resting her hand on my upper thigh, her fingers curving around my leg so they’re almost brushing against my dick. It’s a possessive move and I freaking love it.
“Yeah, uh…sorry Kaylie.” I offer her an apologetic smile which she doesn’t bother returning. She leaves in a huff, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder as she turns and walks away with her little drones. I watch them go, ultra aware of Fable next to me. More aware of her small hand that still rests on my thigh.
I don’t want her to move it either.
“Tell me what that girl is to you.”
She sounds mad. I look at her, my gaze meeting hers. Those green eyes are shooting fire and I’m her target. “Nothing. I knew her in high school but we hardly talked.”
Fable’s lips are firm, her eyes hard. She looks ready to kick some ass. “She acts like an old girlfriend.”
“She wasn’t.” I shake my head.
“You banged her then.” Her eyes narrow into slits and my heart constricts in my chest as realization hits.