Page 86 of Love in Training
“He waited patiently until I’d run out of insults, then he asked me out.” My heart does a light skip when I meet Drew’s eyes.
He clears his throat. “Well, um... having been on the receiving end of similar criticism, I’m impressed he had the guts.”
My smile broadens as the memory replays. Kyle was scrawnier then. His hair shaggier. But he had a double-dimple smile, a jaw that could cut glass, and enough charm in his little finger to make a team of cheerleaders swoon. “I lost the heat.” I shrug. “But I won averycute boyfriend.”
“You were together a long time,” Drew says quietly.
“Yeah. Eleven years.” I clutch my chest as the ache seeps back in. “By the time we graduated from high school, I knew everything about him. His passions, his hobbies, his dreams...” I force a breath in and out. “But I still couldn’t save him.”
“I couldn’t either, Caprice.” His voice is somber. “I tried to make amends. I came to the wedding to show my support, to try and say I was sorry. But when I got there and thought you were leaving... I didn’t know what to say to him. So I left. By the time I was ready to try again, he did the same thing to me that he did to you—he just pulled further away.”
My pulse beats in my throat. “Sometimes I think if I’d just?—”
“You did everything you could.” Drew raises his head and holds my gaze. “Kyle’s own thoughts were his worst enemy. It was never me, and it was never you.”
My eyelids flutter closed. “I-I loved him so much.”
“I know.” His voice is raw. “I did too.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
When I openmy eyes again, I realize we’re touching. Just our fingertips brushing, woven into Rufus’s golden fur. Something tender and a little broken flutters in my chest, but rather than pull away, I look up into Drew’s face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“For what?”
“That Kyle made you think you weren’t enough.”
I swallow, barely registering a low rumble of thunder as I slide my hand into his, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. Our eyes meet with a question, but the answer is already there, reflecting at each of us through our grief. Shuddering through my chest into his. By the time it passes, our hands are grasping, clutching each other. And the next thing I know, we’ve risen to our knees above the dog—and my lips are on Drew’s.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, Kyle’s kisses linger, a sweet faded memory that will never be new again. For a moment I get scared, afraid I’m about to lose them—confuse them. Do something I’ll regret. But while my chest vibrates with what’s forbidden, my fears evaporate under Drew’s lips. Soft and tender, echoing my hungry need. His clean, sandalwoodscent takes over my senses, consuming my thoughts, suffocating everything else but this.
He pulls me closer with a strong arm, and I can’t get close enough. We both pause, glancing down at the dog, now curled up peacefully on the rug, the way he usually sleeps.
“Is he . . . ?”
“He’s okay,” Drew murmurs, glancing out the window at the diminishing storm. “The worst is over.”
With those words, we rise together, fingers still entwined. Afraid to let go, it seems, in case we break some kind of spell. Once we clear the sleeping dog, we navigate around the couch against each other’s lips. My hands explore his solid arms and chest while his big palms curve over my waist and ass until we fall onto my duvet in a tangle of limbs. At least the beauty of a tiny apartment is that it’s never far to the bed.
“Uh, my jeans are still kinda wet,” he says with a glance at my linens.
“Then you should let me remove them,” I say, burying my face in his neck, breathing him in.
His pants are on the floor moments later, soon joined by my hoodie. The freaking flagpole in his boxer briefs sets off all kinds of fireworks inside me as his mouth traces over my collarbone and down between my breasts.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers against my flesh. “I knew you would be.”
His glasses slide cool against my skin, making me shiver. He starts to take them off, but there’s a tug in my gut and I reach down, stopping his wrist with my hand. “I like them.”
His mouth pulls into an uncertain smile, but he leaves them on, making his way back up my chest and neck, laving my earlobe with his tongue until I am practically bucking my hips into his crotch. I slide my hands under the CU sweatshirt—his sweatshirt—and he raises his arms so I can slide it up and overhis head. And then I’m running my fingers over the bare expanse of his unspeakably carved chest and stomach, as perfect and artful as the angles of his face.
I groan, my mouth watering just looking at him. Kyle and I may have done the long-distance thing, but even when it was virtual, he always took care of me. After our split, I upgraded my vibrator, but quickly got comfortable with casual sex. Probably on some level to soothe my anger, but also out of need. There is only so much you can get out of a toy before you’re longing for the real thing. And since Rufus recently ate my vibratoranddestroyed my dating life, there has been a near-steady ache between my legs.
“Take these fucking shorts off before I soak through them, please.”
