Drew + Fable Forever (Novella) Read online

  “I still can’t believe we did it.” I turn my head to watch him as he rears his head back, waiting for his reaction, needing to see it. I shade my eyes against the too bright sun, studying his handsome face. I can’t stop thinking about last night. The wedding. The dinner we ate afterward, though I barely remember how it tasted—I’d been too enraptured with my husband and the importance of what we’d done.

  How long I took to prepare for him, and none of that mattered because he attacked me anyway, which I loved. It was as if he couldn’t control himself. I like knowing that I make him feel so out of control. And I love knowing that he’s my husband now.

  It all feels so surreal.

  He leans back in the sand, his arm sliding off my shoulders, and I immediately miss his touch. “Oh, I can believe we did it. I’ve wanted to do this for a while now. Just been waiting for you to give me the go-ahead.”

  “You wanted to do what?” Okay, I’m confused, but maybe it’s the sun or this hot specimen of a man who’s my husband, who knows? As I turn to fully look at him, my mouth goes dry at the sight before me.

  Drew all sprawled on the warm sand, leaning back on his elbows, wearing low-riding swim trunks and nothing else, all those beautiful muscles on display. My gaze roves over him hungrily, remembering the hot, intense honeymoon sex we had last night and into this morning. His longish dark hair flutters and waves with the gentle breeze that washes over us, and his eyes are covered by yet another pair of expensive sunglasses he’ll probably lose. Because he’s so good at that, losing things.

  Except for me. He couldn’t lose me if he tried.

  “Make you mine in every sense of the word.” He smiles and I smile in return, my body trembling at his words. He sounds so serious despite the easygoing smile, and it doesn’t help that I can’t see his eyes. They’re probably the most expressive feature on his face. I do love it when he gets possessive, though. I might sound like a freak, but it arouses me like nothing else.

  Well, everything Drew does arouses me. He can stand at the sink and brush his teeth in the morning and I want to jump him.

  Of course I want to jump him. Because in the morning when he’s brushing his teeth, he’s usually standing there either in just his boxer briefs or a pair of sweats that hang so low on his hips I swear I can almost see everything the boy has to offer.

  And oh my, can he offer a lot.

  Shaking my head, I drop my gaze, hoping he can’t read my mind. I have it so bad for my husband it’s crazy.

  “I like the way you say that,” I admit, turning away from him so he can’t see my face, my flushed-with-embarrassment cheeks. All this thinking of Drew brushing his teeth and everything else that comes with it is making me hot. For him. “That I’m yours.”

  “You are,” he says simply. “And I’m yours, too. Now we’re legally together. Nothing can tear us apart.”

  “Together.” I dip my index finger into the sand and draw a giant heart, then write D + F in the center. Like the matching tattoos we share on the inside of our wrists.

  He’s suddenly there, right beside me, pushing me so I have no choice but to lie on the sand. Drew comes over me, his face in mine, his body pressing me deeper into the warm yet damp sand. “Forever,” he whispers just before he kisses me, so deeply I have to wrap my arm around his neck and grip his hair for fear I’ll melt into nothing because of his fiery lips and persuasive tongue.

  “Let’s go back to the room,” I murmur against his mouth long minutes later. The beach is fairly abandoned since it’s morning, but there are a few people wandering by. I wonder if they can see us. What will it be like when people actually recognize him one day? That’s going to happen. I know it and so does he, and we’re trying to prepare, but how can you fully prepare for the unknown? How are we going to deal with it?

  “Sounds perfect.” He smiles and kisses me again, on the tip of my nose, and I laugh when he grabs my hand and yanks me off the sand. I wipe my butt with my free hand, then snag my beach bag, slinging it over my shoulder as he starts dragging me back toward the hotel.

  He’s eager, his long strides eating up the sand, and I have to practically run to keep up. I’m eager, too. My heart is racing, my skin is hot, and my nipples are hard beneath the tiny string bikini Drew picked out for me earlier this morning in the hotel guest shop.

  Yes, my husband likes to see me prance around on the beach practically naked.

  But I don’t care. I don’t look half bad. He’s such a fitness freak and so is Owen, so I’ve taken to exercising with them. They jog, I jog. They go to the gym, I’m at the gym with them, running on the treadmill, using the elliptical until I’m moaning and groaning in pain. They just laugh at me.

  It’s fun, though, being with them. My boys. My family.

  They’re the only ones I have.

  Drew

  The hotel we’re staying at is top notch, the best money can buy, and I paid a pretty-ass penny for the suite we’re in, especially since we booked it so last minute. It’s huge—you could probably fit a family of six in there—with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a gourmet kitchen. Ridiculous, since we’re not cooking a damn thing in this place.

  And the lanai with the ocean view is amazing. All open air and giant windows, it’s filled with huge overstuffed couches and chairs, the doors kept wide open so the warm, salty air drifts into the room, washing over our skin. Like our own little paradise, which it is. Right now, I feel like Fable and I are in our own little world, the only two people on this planet.

  The sun-kissed air washes over my heated skin at this very moment, not doing a thing to cool me off. Not that I want to be cooled off. I have my wife in my arms, my hands gripping her ass beneath the thin fabric of her bikini bottom. Her body is slammed against mine, warm and soft, her breasts so snug against my bare chest I can feel her nipples poking through the fabric of her top.

  Our mouths are fused, our tongues sliding against each other, hot and soft. I lift her and she immediately gets what I want, going with me easily, her legs slipping around my waist as she clings to me like she’s never going to let go. I remove one hand from her ass to settle it over the center of her back, slowly tugging the string on her bikini. The knot unravels easily, her top loosening around her chest as I crawl my fingers up her back to her neck, making her giggle against my lips.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, muffling her laughter by pressing her lips together as I undo the tie at her nape.

  “What does it look like?” I raise a brow and lean away from her a bit, pulling the top off completely and tossing it on the floor. “I’m getting you naked, my pretty wife.”

  “I really like it when you call me your wife.” Her green eyes darken, a sure sign she’s aroused. “You should return the favor, you know, and get naked, too.”

  “I need to get you completely naked first.” I drop her on the bed, smiling when she bounces on the mattress.

  “I’ll help you with that.” She flashes me a wicked smile as she reaches for the little strings that wrap around her hips and starts pushing the bottoms down those smooth, tanned legs of hers. That swimsuit I bought her earlier is almost indecent. It barely covers her and it cost a fortune.

  Worth every dime I spent.

  She looks fucking amazing. She’s a tease with the suit on and a siren with it off.

  And now the suit is most definitely off. She’s flung the bikini bottoms onto the floor along with the top and then leans back against the pillows at the head of the bed, elbows propped, legs bent at the knees. She spreads them the slightest bit, offering me a view of all that she has, and that’s it.

  I’m done for.

  A throaty laugh escapes her as I hurriedly shove my swim trunks off me, kicking them away. My dick is painfully hard as I join her on the bed. Last night had been amazing, nonstop sex, with us falling asleep and waking up a few hours later only to go at it again. We’d been so busy with other stuff, especially this last month, it’s like we were making up for lost time.r />
  My life has been nothing but go, go, go since I signed with the Niners. The intense training and practice wore me completely out. Then with all the planning of the trip and wedding, the packing, and the long flight, we’d both collapsed into bed the first night we got to the island.

  The emotional sunset ceremony on the beach, the realization that this was it, we were officially married, revved up my energy level big time. It seemed to do the same for her, because holy hell, we were crazed for each other.

  Our connection was stronger than ever. Last night, the sex had been ferocious, intense, all-consuming. I feel that way every time I see her, touch Fable, kiss her.

  I should be exhausted but I’m not. My body is on high alert, my skin so tight and hot I feel like I’m going to burst as I let my gaze rove over my new wife’s sexy-as-hell body. Damn, she’s beautiful. Will I ever grow tired of looking at her? Touching her? Kissing her? Fucking her?

  No. Never.

  “Come here, Drew,” she says, her voice a husky whisper, and I crawl up the bed, crawl up over her. She spreads her legs and I settle in between them, my hips nudging against hers, my insistent cock rubbing her soft belly. She slips her arms around my neck as I bend my head to kiss her, drink from her lips, taste her tongue. Her hands bury in my hair as I break away from her to trail kisses down the length of her neck, her collarbone, her chest, the tops of her breasts.

  I can feel the slight tremble run beneath her skin, feel her racing heart as I kiss a path down the fragrant valley between her breasts. Her fingers curl in my hair when I lick her nipple. Those same fingers pull hard when I suck her nipple between my lips.

  God, she tastes amazing. Her legs curl around my hips, her feet slide along my legs, and I want inside her. Now.

  But I also want to make it good for her and draw this out. So I do.

  “Drew.” She whispers my name but I ignore her, continue my path with my lips along her skin. I kiss her stomach, lick her belly button, and make her giggle. The heat between her legs radiates toward me, drawing me closer, drawing me in, and I shift down, my head between her legs, a little chuckle escaping me when she spreads them at the perfectly precise moment.

  Resting my hands on the inside of her thighs, I spread her wider, then bend down, planting a chaste kiss on the center of her. Another giggle escapes her and she pulls my hair, then pushes my head.

  Down.

  “You want this? You want me to make you come?” I ask because I’m feeling evil, still wanting to draw this out.

  “Yes,” she breathes with a little nod, her gaze meeting mine. Those pretty green eyes are wide and fathomless, seeing everything, all of me, and not shying away. Not running away, either.

  I’m a lucky son of a bitch to have found her. A smart one, too, since I just made her mine in the most legal sense.

  Without another word, I lean in and devour her. Search her pink folds with my lips and tongue, suck her, lick her, slide a finger inside of her, then another, fucking her with my mouth and fingers until she’s a writhing mess, my name falling from her lips when the orgasm slams into her.

  Her body quivers beneath my lips, around my fingers, and then I’m pulling away from her, settling on my knees before her as I curl my hand around my cock and guide myself inside her still pulsating body. She stiffens beneath me, still so overcome with her orgasm I don’t think she realized I was about to enter her until it was too late.

  But she’s not protesting. Her softening, welcoming body accepts me readily and I slide deep, as deep as I can get, pausing above her so I can stare down at her flushed face. Her eyes slowly open and she stares up at me for a long, quiet moment. I don’t move, don’t dare make a sound, just savor the feeling of being buried deep inside my wife, the two of us now one.

  Complete.

  Turning her head, she kisses my wrist. My hands are planted on either side of her head, my arms stiff, my muscles quaking. It’s taking everything within me to hold back, restrain myself. All I want to do is thrust again and again. Fuck her straight into the mattress until she’s gasping and screaming my name, our sweaty bodies clinging to each other until we finally come down from our high.

  “Harder,” she urges as if she can read my mind and yet again, I’m pretty sure she probably can. I feel like I can read hers, too. It’s damn scary. It’s also comforting, to know you have that other person out there who’s just for you. Before meeting Fable I’d been suffocating with loneliness, not really living, just going through the motions. I didn’t believe I deserved anyone. I felt incomplete. A piece of me was missing all those years, especially the last few before I found her.

  And I quickly realized she was that missing piece, the one that fit me so perfectly, I’d have to be a fool to let her go. Which I did. I ran away like an idiot and then found her again by pure dumb luck, or fate, or whatever you want to believe.

  It doesn’t really matter, because now we’re together and nothing can stop us. Our biggest obstacles are past us. We can move on and forge a life together. It might be a little rough while we live separately during the regular season, but we’ll see each other as much as we can. Besides, it’s only for a couple of months. And then it’s only a couple of years until Owen graduates high school.

  What’s the worst that can happen?

  Chapter Four

  Drew

  We’re in Carmel, the scene of many crimes, so to speak, both literally and figuratively. I’m on edge and fucking uncomfortable because I’ve brought Fable here with me. She hasn’t returned since her one week as my fake girlfriend.

  Now she’s here as my very real wife.

  Dad wanted to throw a reception for us at his new home. Thank God he’d moved, or I wouldn’t have been able to go back like this. It would have been too uncomfortable, both for me and for Fable. I don’t think I could have endured it. I don’t think she could, either.

  The new house is amazing. Not as large as the old one but considering he’s living here alone, Dad doesn’t need some grand mansion. He’s older now, traveling more, and he seems in better spirits. After what happened with Adele killing herself and his finding out what went on between Adele and me, he retreated into himself. We spoke, but it was difficult. He went to counseling. I even went to a few of his sessions, but damn, those had been tough.

  There’s a lot of pain inside him over what Adele did to me. A lot of guilt, too, and I can relate to that. Putting us together in the same room trying to discuss it is extremely difficult. First of all, we’re guys. And second of all, we’re Callahan men. I think it’s hard for us to talk about our feelings.

  Fine. I know it’s hard for us to talk about our feelings.

  For the most part, we’ve moved past that. Our relationship had grown stilted, but now … now we’re okay. We’re what I would even consider close. As close as a father and son can be, what with living in two different cities and both of us constantly traveling.

  So in honor of our recent wedding, Dad is having two hundred of his closest friends over at his house for a small reception. “Small” being a ridiculous word, but hey, I’m only quoting the guy. The house is packed. There are servers milling around with trays of food and champagne. There’s a full-service bar out on the patio and a deejay.

  A freaking deejay.

  Oh, and I can’t forget the giant wedding cake on the other side of the patio, a perfect white frosted tower covered with fresh purple orchids.

  Wild.

  “This is wild,” Fable says as she clutches my hand, the two of us standing in the doorway that leads out onto the patio, surveying everything spread out before us. “You said it was going to be small.”

  “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing, that this is wild.” I clutch her hand tight, our fingers intertwined. “And it was my father who said it was going to be small, not me.”

  “Well, his idea of small and mine are completely different.” She looks around the room again, her eyes wide as she drinks in everyone and everything. The majority o
f the guests are around Dad’s age and filthy-ass rich. There are no other words for it. I see diamonds everywhere. Twinkling around women’s necks, flashing off their fingers, glinting off their wrists. They’re all perfectly manicured and groomed within an inch of their life, Botoxed and plucked and smoothed and fake tanned.

  There are a few younger women here who I recognize. Daughters of Dad’s associates, girls I went to school with. They’re all perfectly groomed and manicured, too, much like the lawns that line the streets outside.

  If I hadn’t met Fable, I would have ended up married to one of these women, I can almost guarantee it—some perfectly behaved girl who would’ve pleased Dad. Our marriage would have been a merger of sorts. Two powerful families brought together, a lucrative deal for both sides. A victory comprised of wealth.

  Instead, I made Fable Dad’s new daughter-in-law, and while he acts as if he likes her, I wonder sometimes. I know she doesn’t always approve of what he does or says.

  I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual. Dad is all smooth polish, while Fable is still a bit rough around the edges.

  “Is all the food free here?” Speaking of rough edges, Owen stops at my side, his green eyes wide as he looks around the patio. “I’m fucking starving.”

  “Owen, I will kill you where you stand if you say that word again out here,” Fable says between clenched teeth, her eyes narrowed, her fingers squeezing mine tight. I can’t blame her for being angry; we’re trying to make a good impression here, especially her.

  Sending Fable a look, I reach out and pat Owen on the shoulder, though he doesn’t seem fazed by his sister’s chastising words in the least. “Of course it’s free,” I reassure him. “My dad’s having the party for us. Celebrating our marriage, and sort of a welcome-to-the-family thing for you and Fable.”