Lost. That one single word best describes my life at this very moment. I lost the last games of the season and both my team and my coach blame me. I lost the last two months because I drowned in my own despair like a complete loser. And I lost the only girl who ever mattered because I was afraid being with me would destroy her.
But now I realize how truly lost I am without her. She has become my story…and even though she acts like she’s moved on, I know she still thinks about me just as much as I think about her. She’s beautiful, sweet—and so damn vulnerable, all I want to do is help her. Be there for her. Love her…
If only I could convince Fable to give me a second chance. Then I wouldn’t feel so lost anymore, and neither would she. We could be found together.
I absolutely LOVE Drew + Fable's story, their romance.. really everything about this set of books. The plot is effed up (in a good dramatic way) at times and super HAWT at times. I love Drew, seriously! This series is a really short read but worth every second of reading time! I love how real the characters feel, and how real their attraction feels. The following is a short excerpt from Second Chance Boyfriend. If you haven't started this series, then what the heck are you waiting for?!
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.”
I blink hard. “No, I’m not.”
He strokes his thumb across my chin, his nail grazing the edge of my lower lip. “I hate that I’ve made you cry.”
I close my eyes, the still-falling tears getting tangled up in my eyelashes. “I’m just… I don’t know how to handle this anymore. You. Us.”
“I’m sorry.” He steps closer. I can feel his body heat burning into me. And then his mouth is at my forehead, his lips brushing my skin in a tentative kiss. “So sorry.” Another kiss at my temple. “I didn’t know what to say to you after I left. I was ashamed of everything that happened, everything you witnessed. You deserve better.” He kisses the tip of my nose.
Without thought I sling my arms around him, anchoring myself. He’s big and warm and solid, and my heart eases at having him so close again. “I deserve you,” I whisper. “When will you realize that?”
We’re quiet for long, agonizing minutes. My forehead is pressed against his chin, my arms loose around his waist. He slips his arm around me so his hand settles at my hip. His other hand is in my hair, smoothing it back, tangling his fingers in the long strands, and I sigh at his gentle touch.
I never want this moment to end. I want to forget all our troubles and just focus on the two of us together.
“I don’t deserve you,” he finally says. “You accept me so easily, no matter how hard I push you away. You need to know I don’t do it on purpose. It’s just…the only way I know how to deal is to run.”
His honesty breaks my heart.
“I’m learning, though, that running away doesn’t solve my problems.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m seeing someone. A psychologist. She’s helping me a lot.”
I chance looking up at him and our gazes clash. He’s worried that somehow his admission might drive me away, I can tell. “That’s good. Did someone arrange that for you?” Had he told his father anything? Or was he still keeping all his secrets?
“No, I sought her out myself. We’ve talked a lot about what happened. And about you.”
“About me?” I’m shocked. After he left so easily, I figured he forgot all about me.
“Definitely about you.” He trails his fingers down my cheek and I release a shuddering breath. “You have no idea how important you are to me, do you?”
I slowly shake my head. “When you left, I figured we were finished. I thought you were over me.”
“I could never be over you.” Drew clamps his lips shut. I wonder if he wants to say something else.
I know I do. But I can’t. I’m not going to be as quick to reveal my emotions to him again. Not after everything we’ve been through. I’m too scared.
So I go with an easy admission. One not too far from what he offered me. “I’m not over you either,” I whisper.
Before I can say anything else, he yanks me closer and presses his mouth to mine. His lips are soft, damp and very, very persistent. I open for him easily, our tongues sliding against each other, his low moan fueling me on. Fueling us both on.
Just like that, I’m lost.
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Monica Murphy writes books with boys and kissing in them. She also likes to read books with boys and kissing in them. Writer of new adult contemporary romance-ish stuff. Mom and wife. Native Californian.
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