She lets go of my nipple when I finish talking, her big blue eyes staring up at me. I see it all in her face at that exact moment. Autumn recognizes my voice; she knows I’m her mama and for whatever reason, I can tell she’s going to be wise beyond her years. She’ll probably give us endless grief. Stubborn like her mama and too quiet with her problems like her daddy. She’ll be smart and beautiful and strong and fearless. That’s what I want most for her. That she’ll be fearless and unafraid to face anything. Autumn will believe she can do anything she sets her mind to. Nothing will ever get in her way.
That’s what I wish for my daughter.
It’s the least that she deserves.
Chapter Eleven
Drew
I exit the bathroom wearing only a towel, the steam from my extra-hot shower billowing out of the open door, surrounding me like a thick fog. I head toward my dresser to grab something to wear when I stop short at the sight before me, my breath lodged in my throat, my heart stuttering in my chest.
Fable is on the bed, her shirt yanked above her full breasts. She’s fast asleep, lying on her side, cuddling Autumn in the ring of her arm, who’s also asleep. Rosebud lips pursed, chubby cheeks pink, my girl must’ve been nursing on her mama and slipped into slumber.
Just like my poor, exhausted wife did.
I stare at them because I can, completely overwhelmed at the love I have for these two beautiful females in my life. Fable’s been going at it full force since we brought Autumn home over two months ago, taking care of our daughter’s every need while I’ve been a selfish jackass off playing football.
It’s your job, Fable tells me time and again. And Autumn’s my job. Don’t feel guilty.
But I do. I offered to hire a nanny but Fable refused. I offered to take them on the road with me because I miss them like fucking crazy, but she refused that, too.
Maybe next season, Fable told me. We’ll have more of a routine going by then.
I don’t know if I can wait that long. I miss them and the season has barely started. I want them to be a part of my routine. I feel like I’m losing out on all sorts of first times. How will I feel a year from now, when Autumn’s older and doing all of those momentous things no parent ever wants to miss? I don’t think I could stand it if I missed hearing her say her first word, seeing her take her first step.
Turning away from them, I go to my dresser and open a drawer, pulling out a pair of boxer briefs and putting them on. It’s my first day off in a while and I plan on spending every moment of it with Fable and Autumn.
“So. Not. Fair.”
Fable’s little groan makes me whirl around, concern racing through my veins. “What did you say?”
She’s awake, propped on one elbow, her hair in complete disarray around her head, falling past her shoulders. She tugs the T-shirt down over her chest, a grimace marring her delicate features. “Look at you. It’s disgusting.”
“What? Why?” Is she mad at me? Ever since she had the baby, she’s been on edge. Moody, weepy, determined, grumpy, happy, tired. Nothing out of control, but when I can’t gauge her mood, it’s a little disconcerting.
Fine. It’s a lot disconcerting. A moody Fable is a no-fun Fable.
A sigh escapes her as she shakes her head. “You’re beautiful, in the best condition of your life. I remember when we first met and I thought you were perfection then.”
I stand up a little straighter, giving a quick glance down at myself. She’s right. I am in peak condition. But I train my ass off. I should be in peak condition. “Uh, thanks?”
She starts to laugh. “You look scared. Don’t be. I’m not going all postpartum on you. I just … you look amazing and I look terrible.”
“Are you serious?” I’m incredulous. “You don’t look terrible.”
“I feel terrible. I rarely wear anything but yoga pants or sweats and T-shirts, and most of the time my clothes are stained with breast milk or spit-up or whatever.” She flops down on the bed, ever careful of the sleeping Autumn, who’s still tucked close by her side. “I’m scared, Drew.”
From misery to fear within seconds, her mood swings make no sense to me. Sometimes I have trouble keeping up with her. “Of what?” I go to the bed, scoop up Autumn, and settle in beside Fable, our baby resting on my chest. I can feel her warm little puffs of breath against my skin, her lips moving as she stirs and settles more comfortably against me, and I stroke her tiny back, reaching out with my other hand to cup Fable’s cheek. “Do you know how beautiful you are right now?”
She rolls her pretty green eyes, her lips curved in the faintest of smiles. “Give me a break.”
“I’m serious.” I stare at her, taking in her weary eyes, the dark circles that line them, her wild hair. She’s worn out and still so pretty. Guilt swamps me because I’ve done this to her. I’m the one who impregnated her, put her through labor, where she pushed out our baby after what felt like hours of torture—even though I wasn’t there in the delivery room that long—that made me want to lose my mind because there was nothing I could do for her to ease her pain. And then I leave her to go to training camp. Take off again to start the preseason, traveling around the country playing fucking football while she stays at home and raises our child.
Who’s doing the more important job here?
“What if you find someone better?” she whispers thinly, her eyes wide. “You’re going to be gone all the time. You have so many fans and they throw themselves at you, Drew. I know why. I get it. You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re amazing out on that field. They want you.”
“But I only want you.” I tug her in close, holding both my girls to me. “We’ve had this conversation before,” I murmur against her hair. She smells good. She always smells good. So does Autumn. “I thought you understood how I felt.”
“Feeding that hungry baby at all hours of the night, my mind starts to wander,” she admits, her voice small.
“Well, make it stop. I don’t know what more I can do to prove how I feel about you.” I pause, staring into her eyes. “I love you. Only you. You’re it for me, Fable. You’re my wife and the mother of my child. You’ve seen me at my best, at my worst, and everything in between. I don’t want anyone but you. What you’ve given me, it’s the best gift I’ve ever received.” Leaning down, I brush her mouth with mine, feel her lips tremble.
“You mean Autumn? Because you had a hand in that, too, you know.”
Chuckling, I shake my head, cuddling our baby closer to my chest. “She’s a pretty awesome gift. But I’m talking about what you gave me from the very start. Before Autumn, before all of this.” I kiss her again, overwhelmed by what I feel for Fable, what I want to say to her. I don’t understand why she doesn’t know how much I love her. Need her. “Your unconditional love, baby. You never backed down. You never gave up on me. Ever. And I needed that. I was so screwed up but you never let that stop you, thank God.”
Tears are streaming down her cheeks and I swipe them away with my thumb. “I love you, Drew. So much.”
“I love you, too. Just because I’m traveling all over the country and have crazy women screaming at me doesn’t mean I love you any less. All that shit makes me love you even more. You’re my normal. My home. I miss you so damn much when I’m gone. I miss Autumn, too. I hate being away from you two.” I kiss her again, letting my lips linger on hers. She tastes sweet. Familiar. My heart thumps hard against my chest and my body stirs.
I’ve missed her. She was so uncomfortable those last few weeks pregnant with Autumn. And since then we haven’t had a chance to be together because of doctor’s orders and all that other bullshit. Plus, I’ve been gone.
Which means I’ve been without Fable for much too long. I need to rectify that.
Now.
“We hate when you’re gone, too,” she whispers against my lips. “But I understand, Drew. I never want you to feel guilty for working.”
“Too late.” I kiss her again, taking it deeper. A little sound of plea
sure escapes her and I break the kiss, cuddle Autumn closer, and climb off the bed. “Going to put our little princess in her crib.”
“Wait.” Fable reaches out just as I turn and send her a stern look. She settles against the pile of pillows behind her, crossing her arms in front of her. “She might wake up.”
“She’s sound asleep,” I whisper as I glance down at my baby girl snug in my arms. She’s out, her lips parted, her eyes tightly closed, the spike of thick, dark eyelashes like little fans resting against her creamy skin. I may be a prejudiced bastard because she’s my baby and all but damn, she’s beautiful.
“Fine,” Fable says on a sigh, ever the overprotective mama. “Put her to bed.”
“Then I’m going to put you to bed,” I say, waggling my brows, making her laugh softly. “Be prepared, wife. It’s been way too long since I’ve had you naked.”
Fable
Oh. No.
The last thing I want is Drew to see me naked. I’m still carrying an extra ring of flab around my stomach and hips and everything just looks … weird. Plus, my boobs are enormous and while most men would probably love that, including my own man, I’m so self-conscious of those baby-feeding machines that I’m scared Drew will take one look at them and run.
Of course, the man wants to strip me naked in broad daylight, not nighttime like every other married couple on the planet. At least, that’s how I always envisioned normal married couples doing it—safe and sound in their beds at night. But, no. The morning sunlight is shining through our bedroom windows, casting everything in a gentle, golden glow, and he will see everything.
Everything.
I can’t stand the thought, not with him looking so amazing. He’s bigger than he was when I first met him and I thought him huge then. He’s wider, more solid, every muscle defined. That sprinkling of dark hair at the center of his chest gets me, as does the trail of hair that leads from his navel downward. There is nothing I love more than admiring my husband’s body. Touching it. Knowing it’s all mine.
But since I’ve had Autumn, I’m scared to death to let him see me. The real me, with the scars and the stretch marks and the extra skin and the … oh, God. I’m going to have a panic attack just thinking about it.
I smell him before I see him, his deliciously spicy masculine scent preceding him as he walks back into our bedroom. He’s smiling, that wicked, arousing smile he flashes me right before he pounces. Wearing only his boxer briefs, he’s beautiful.
Quickly I tug the sheet and comforter over me, hoping he didn’t see too much. I’m in my panties and a stained 49ers T-shirt. I look like hell. For once in my life, while lying in bed waiting for my husband, I wish I could disappear.
He stops at the foot of the bed, his dark brows creased in worry as he studies me. “Fable.” His low, soothing voice does nothing to calm the nerves rioting in my belly. “What’s wrong?”
I shrug, hoping I sound convincing. “I’m … not in the mood right now. Sorry. Maybe later?” The words feel like complete lies falling from my lips. I am in the mood. I desperately miss my husband. But I don’t want him to see me like this.
His frown deepens. “Not in the mood?”
Have I ever said that to him? Probably not.
Pressing my lips together, I nod. “I’m tired.”
“I’ll take a nap with you. We can all take a nap until Autumn wakes up.”
“But aren’t there things you need to do today?” I ask weakly, watching as he rounds the bed, tugs back the covers, and climbs in with me. “It’s your day off.”
“My day off that I planned to spend with you and Autumn doing nothing but hanging out with my girls.” He hauls me to him and I have no choice but to lay my head on his warm, firm chest. I can feel his heart beat beneath my ear, steady and strong, and I close my eyes, breathing deep. Feeling … right.
Whole.
“You’re tired, baby,” he murmurs against the top of my head just before he drops a kiss on it. “I understand.” His hand rests on my shoulder, then runs down my back in a slow, smooth gesture. A sigh escapes me at his touch and he slides his hand beneath the hem of my T-shirt, touching my bare back. “Where’s your bra?”
This is what my life has been reduced to. Not my husband thrilled at having me braless but concerned. Everything revolves around nursing bras and heavy breasts full of milk and a greedy, hungry baby who can’t get enough of it. I don’t feel sexy. I feel like a feeding machine. I don’t even remember the last time I felt sexy. Months ago? Before the third trimester? I was horny and lusting for my husband during the second trimester, jumping Drew everywhere and anywhere I could. He loved it. I loved it.
Now I’m doing my best to avoid him as much as possible. This is crazy.
“I’m sick of wearing it,” I admit to him. “It’s ugly and unsexy and sometimes it digs into my skin.”
“Then you need a new one if it’s hurting you.”
I say nothing, just play with the hairs at the center of his chest, press a kiss to the spot where I can feel his beating heart. He shifts against me, I can feel his erection nudge against my belly, and I close my eyes, everything inside of me going loose and fluttery.
“Fable.” I lift my head at the serious tone of his voice. He’s watching me, concern etched into his handsome features. “I want you.”
I close my eyes and slowly shake my head. “No, you really don’t.”
“I think I know if I want you or not.” He sounds amused, and I crack open my eyes to find him smiling at me. My heart, my everything, melts at seeing that smile. I remember when it was hard earned. Now that smile always comes so easily and I feel responsible for that. “And I definitely want you. But I’ll respect your wishes if you don’t want to be with me right now.”
He says it like that and his words break my heart. I think he knows this, too. Not that he’s being manipulative, but …
My husband has no problem doing what he can to get what he wants. Always to my benefit, though.
Always.
“I look terrible,” I admit in a small voice. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Like what?” His expression softens, as does his voice. “Ah, Fable.” Reaching out, he settles a large, warm hand on my cheek, cupping my face as he leans down to brush my lips with his. “You’re beautiful.”
“I need to lose weight,” I say.
“I like all the extra curves.”
“My boobs are ginormous.”
“I have a thing for your boobs. You know this.”
A sigh escapes me and I shake my head. “You watched me give birth to Autumn. You’re probably traumatized. I’ve read articles about that. How men aren’t aroused by their wives anymore because they watched them have their baby and it freaked them out.”
“You’re reading way too much into this,” he says, his hand going to the back of my head and tangling in my hair.
I don’t bother protesting. He won’t listen to me anyway. And he knows I won’t really stop him, either. I’m giving in because how can I not? Drew’s persuasive lips, his quick but gentle hands, his big, hard body … all of it overpowers me. I succumb so easily because I want to.
I need to.
“It’s been too long,” he murmurs, his cheek pressed to mine, his mouth close to my ear. He nuzzles me, I can both feel and hear him inhale as if he’s trying to somehow absorb me, and I close my eyes against the heady sensation of having my husband completely surround me.
I don’t bother answering him, agreeing with him because he knows I feel the same way. It’s definitely been too long. I can’t believe I let my hangups keep us apart. Why did I even want to resist him? Look at him. Look at how he looks at me, as if he worships the ground I walk on. I feel the same exact way about him.
He pulls away from me so he can strip off my clothes, his gaze focused on my face, as if he knows if he looks anywhere else I’ll become incredibly self-conscious, which I will. He kisses me, his tongue tangling with mine, his hands taking a
path along my body, careful around my breasts, sliding along my waist, until he grips my hips and positions me just so.
Cautious but bold. Gentle but strong. That’s my Drew. He’s so completely attuned to my needs. I feel his erection, hard against my thigh, hot through the thin barrier of his cotton boxer briefs. I forget all of my worries, all of my fears of him seeing me naked. All I can do is feel and revel in his love. The love that flows from his every touch, from his lips and from his tongue.
“I love you,” he whispers close to my ear, his mouth damp on my flesh. “I’ve missed you like this.”
I’ve missed him, too, but I don’t need to say it. Not when I can show it.
Chapter Twelve
Fable
I let my hands wander, along Drew’s arms, down his chest, skimming his ridged abdomen. His stomach trembles beneath my touch and I smile, thrilled that I can still affect him this way.
It’s still hard for me to believe we’ve been together for years. That we’re a married couple, that he’s my husband and I’m his wife and we have a sweet daughter who is everything to us. He’s a famous football player and I guess I’m his famous wife. My brother is starting his second year of college. He seems happy. We’re all happy.
We’re all lucky we have each other.
Drew grabs me out of nowhere and rolls me over so I’m flat on my back and he’s hovering above me. He’s staring down at me, still the beautiful boy I first fell in love with but now he’s so much more. He’s a man. A protective, smart, gorgeous, talented man who also happens to be the best father in the world. And he’s looking at me at this very moment as if he’s about to devour me.
A tiny thrill rolls down my spine at the realization.
“I can’t even believe you’d think I’d find you too fat or whatever.” He rakes his gaze blatantly over my body and I feel even more naked than I already am. “You look amazing, Fable.”
Drew + Fable Forever (Novella) Page 11
