Second Chance Boyfriend by Monica Murphy Page B

closer to her. “Fable…”
    She steps back, looking scared, as if she has nowhere to go, and that makes me feel like shit. “You should go.”
    I take another step toward her, and she takes another one back, bumping against the wall behind her. She’s trapped, she knows it, and all I can think is thank God she can’t run away from me. “You don’t want me to leave.”
    “Yes, I do.” She nods, her expression firm, but her voice is weak.
    I move in so close I invade her personal space. Her warmth, her scent wraps around me, intoxicating me, and I brace my hands on the wall above her head, my arms bracketing her. I’ve got her completely caged in, and as I gaze down at her pretty, angry upturned face, all I can think is how much I want to kiss her and smudge that bright red lipstick all to hell. “How late do you work?” I ask, my voice low, my thoughts…dirty. I want to get her home. Naked. In my bed. Impossible considering how I’ve ruined this fragile thing between us, but I have hopes I can turn everything around.
    The trembling in her body is a clue she’s not over me. The way she’s looking at me with all that pent-up longing in her gaze tells me I still have a chance too.
    “Too late to meet with you after.” Reaching out, she pushes at my chest, her slender hands resting on my front, and I hiss in a breath as if she’s burned me.
    But shit. It feels like she has. Having her hands on me again after so long, it’s like she’s branding me. Making her claim with just a touch.
    She has no idea I’ve belonged to only her for months.
    Without thought I lean in, my lips going for hers, but she turns her head at the last second and I end up kissing her cheek instead. She’s quivering, little shuddering breaths escape from her parted lips, and I close my eyes, desperate to calm the pounding of my heart as I nuzzle the side of her face. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?” I whisper against her skin.
    Fable nods, draws in a deep breath as her hands drop away from my chest. “You did.”
    “Tell me what I can do to make it up to you.” I need to know. I can’t let her think this is over between us.
    She still keeps her face averted, as if she’s afraid to look me in the eyes. “It’s too late. There’s nothing you can do. It’s o—over between us.”
    I remove my hand from the wall to cup her cheek, forcing her to look at me. Those big, scared eyes meet mine and for a moment I’m lost. Like we’re back in time and at my parents’ guesthouse when we were about to embark on something big. Something serious. I had this girl in the palm of my hand and she had me. But I was such a chickenshit, I let her slip right out of my grip and now look at her.
    She’s…different. Her entire life has changed in a matter of weeks. And I had nothing to do with it. She’s moved on while I’m still stuck.
    The realization is staggering.
    “I need to get back to work,” she whispers. “You should go back to your friends.”
    I stroke her face, let my fingers trace the delicate line of her jaw. She closes her eyes, I notice the subtle movement of her throat as she swallows and I dip my head, this time making that connection I so desperately want. My mouth on hers, breathing her breath, tasting her lips, the sweet, mysterious depths within. She parts her lips immediately and I take advantage, slipping my tongue inside, tangling it with hers.
    A groan escapes me and she breaks the kiss first, our eyes opening at the same time, and we stare at each other without saying a word, her gaze dropping to my mouth again. I know what she wants.
    I want it too.
    We can’t resist each other. This one moment is proof. I need to do something, say something to continue this connection.
    I need her. And she needs me. I know it.
    “Fable. Everything okay?”
    We both turn our heads to see some guy standing a few feet away, big and intimidating, dressed all in black, his gaze sharp as it lingers on me. He looks like he wants to