This is for Becky at Reality Bites…who worked so hard to make this happen. Thank you!!! Thanks to all of you and your support. Seriously, I get happy flutters in my chest when I read your emails, messages, tweets, etc. I’m on a reader high today!
Now here are some sexy times for you between Fable + Drew…
(I’m a poet)
(Warning: Naughty language ahead!!)
My doorbell rings and I go completely still. Who the hell is that? I head toward the door and open it, shock rendering me frozen when I find Fable standing on my doorstep, her cell phone clutched in her hand. A wicked smile curves her lips and I let my gaze wander over her.
She’s wearing bright pink cotton shorts and a black long-sleeved T-shirt that clings to her breasts and makes them look huge. Her hair is pulled back in a long braid, wild blonde strands brushing her cheeks. Her face is devoid of makeup with the exception of some gloss slicking her lips, making them extra shiny. Extra kissable.
My girl is gorgeous. Those shorts should be criminal. They’re like a lethal weapon. I swear if I keep staring at her legs I’ll keel over from witnessing too much hotness.
“I keep getting these crazy messages from some random guy.” She holds her phone up. I see the last message I sent her on the screen, along with her accompanying reply. She’s just as guilty. “He says he wants to get naked with me.”
I lean against the door. If she wants to play this game, fine. I’m up for it. Might make things more interesting. “Hmm, weird. Why would anyone want to get naked with you?”
She rests her hands on her hips. “I don’t know. Looks like you’re almost naked.”
Glancing down at myself, I scratch my bare chest. I can feel her eyes on me and I look up, watching her as she blatantly checks me out. Just like I blatantly checked her out only moments ago. “I assume you’ve accepted my apology?”
Her expression changes in an instant. Those pretty green eyes dim and her mouth softens. “I’m the one who should apologize. I feel like I’ve been picking fights all over the place.”
I grab her hand and yank her inside, shutting the door behind her. Without giving her a chance to think, let alone escape, I pin her against the door and hold her there with my body, my hands on her waist. Her skin is warm, I can feel her heat through the thin barrier of her shirt and I want her.
Beneath me, over me, with me. Always.
“Who else are you fighting with?” I slip my fingers beneath the hem of her shirt so I can touch soft, pliant flesh.
“My brother.” A shaky breath escapes her. “I’m sorry we argued last night, Drew.”
I love how she always cuts through the bullshit. There are no lingering misunderstandings or grudges. We argue, we challenge each other, we apologize, we move on.
“I’m sorry too.” I lean in closer to her and inhale the subtle scent of her shampoo. She smells so good. Everything about her smells amazing. She’s warm and fragrant and soft in my arms, her breasts nestled against my bare chest, her arms going loosely around my waist. “Wanna have make up sex?”
She giggles—and I don’t think I’ve ever heard Fable giggle—just before I rain kisses along her slender neck. The giggles turn instantly into a low moan and she slides her hands up my back, her nails skimming my skin. “I would love to have make up sex.”
Before she can say another word I lift my head, settle my mouth on hers. I’m hungry for her sweet lips, her tongue. I devour her, holding her in place as I cup her head with my hands, my fingers tangling in her hair, ruining her braid. She whimpers against my mouth, her hands diving beneath the loose waistband of my sweats and I hear her murmur of pleasure when she discovers I have no underwear on.
“You are so bad,” she whispers, her tongue darting out to lick my lower lip as she shoves my sweats down so they fall in a heap around my ankles. I step out of them, kick them out of the way, my tongue doing a slow search of the inside of her mouth.
No one who knows me would ever consider me a bad boy. I left that image up to other guys, always happy to stay in my good guy place. Girls preferred bad boys so I walked the straight and narrow.
Plus, I flat out didn’t like feeling bad. Being full of secret shame does that to a person.
Fable makes me want to be bad for her, just to hear her say it. Her pleased tone is unmistakable. I think she likes corrupting me.
My mouth never leaving hers, I grab her ass and lift. She twines her legs around my hips, clinging to me, the heat of her burning my dick through the thin fabric of her shorts. I frantically tug at them, dropping her so her feet fall to the ground only so I can push her shorts and lacy panties off, her helping me the entire time.
Regret flashes through me as I watch the delicate scrape of fabric fall to the floor. I’d have to linger over those pretty lace panties next time. I’m too eager, too caught up in the moment to take it slow. I needed to be inside her. Now.
“Drew.” She pants my name against my lips as I lift her back up, those sexy legs going around my hips, her ankles digging into my ass. “I want to feel you.”
“You’re feeling me right now, baby.” Oh hell yeah, she’s feeling me, and I’m feeling her. She’s so slick and hot, the head of my cock nudges against her folds and all I want to do is plunge inside her. Fuck her until I can’t see straight and I’m coming so hard I can’t think.
“I mean…oh God, I can’t think when you do that,” she whispers, her voice trembling when I thrust against her, nice and slow. “I’m on the pill, Drew.”
“That’s awesome.” Yeah, no babies for us. We can barely handle each other, let alone throw a kid in the mix.
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.
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.
Take a look at the revamped cover of One Week Girlfriend:
New Adult Contemporary Romance
**Mature situations and sexual content – recommended for ages 17+**
Temporary. That one single word best describes my life these last few years. I’m working at a temporary job until I can finally break free. I’m my little brother’s temporary mother since our mom doesn’t give a crap about either of us. And I’m that temporary girl all the guys want to get with because I give it up so easily. According to the rumors, at least.
But now I’m the temporary girlfriend of Drew Callahan, college football legend and all around golden guy. He’s beautiful, sweet—and he’s hiding way more secrets than I am. He’s brought me into this fake life where everyone seems to hate me. And everyone seems to want something from him. The only thing he seems to want though is…
I don’t know what to believe anymore. All I know is, I think Drew needs me. And I want to be there for him.
Monica Murphy is a writer, a wife and a mom. She drinks too much coffee and spends too much time in front of her computer. She likes to read, she watches bad reality TV and she sometimes acts younger than she really is. Though most of the time she’s sure her kids think she’s a complete buzz kill.
One Week Girlfriend, a new adult/contemporary romance, is Monica’s first book.
ONE WEEK GIRLFRIEND available NOW