Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
As a young man, I had to learn body language to make sure Mom and I were never in the way of my dad. I used what I learned by staying out of his way to learn everything about Fable instead. I memorized her body language, and though life has a way of going on, even when she’s not around me, I never allowed myself to forget a single thing about her.
Each day, I learn something new about adult Fable. But learning what she looks like turned on is something I wasn’t ready for.
I’ve seen some really great things, I’ve scored some pretty sick goals, I’ve held her over my head with ease, but Fable turned on is the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen.
I thought I spotted it that time she saw me shirtless when Dean was too close to her for my liking. How her eyes moved along my body, her lips parting slightly as she drew in deep breaths. But when she told me “She grew up,” yeah, no way in hell could she hide that she wanted me. It was all over her face, obvious in how she leaned in toward me and how each word that left her mouth dripped with hunger. She didn’t even say much, but I was ready to come from the sounds and sights she was rewarding me with. She turns me on in all the ways I crave, in ways no one else could even inspire. But with her, it’s natural.
It’s her.
I still can’t fathom that anyone could make her feel like anything less than a goddess. I know her parents are assholes, but a guy she chose to be with made her feel less-than? That’s not okay. It infuriates me to know men have put it in her head that she’s a robot, because she’s not. Even from a young age, she had to keep everything she felt inside because her parents made her feel bad for being herself. I saw it many times, and even though I was younger and didn’t really know how, I tried to protect her. I’d distract her; I’d try to keep her from riding with them, offering rides with my girls and me. I wanted so desperately to make her unlearn what her parents pounded into her. In some ways, I think I did help. I know for sure if it weren’t for Kitty and Phillip, Fable wouldn’t have developed into the stunning, strong woman she is now. They never tried to keep her in a gilded cage, unlike how her parents wanted her to be.
How they still want her to be.
Even a week later, I can’t forget the way that Elena looked at me. Like I was the snot falling from a bear’s nose in her precious forest. It’s unfair how that one look knocked me back to when I was a confused, scared young man. Once more, the feelings of not measuring up to the expectations they have for the person who would be with their daughter hit me square in the chest. The many times they warned me to stay away from her outside of the ice still haunt me.
What was wrong with me? Hell, even now, why would I be so bad for her? I have had only her best interests in mind. I loved skating with her, yet I wasn’t good enough. I’m pretty sure they paid off their “friend” who was my coach in Ohio so that he’d take me. To break apart two people who needed each other. As a teenager, that fucked with my mind. Made me feel worthless.
As an adult, I’m just fucking annoyed.
I may not be able to give her the luxury her parents gave her growing up, or what she’s accustomed to, but I can make her happy. I know I can. This week has only reinforced that for me. I can’t let her family win anymore. I have to fight for us. I didn’t when I was younger, probably because I thought she thought the way they did. But that’s not the case anymore.
She wants me.
I want her.
But I’ve been keeping my distance.
Call it self-preservation if you must, and I feel like a damn idiot for it. We still go at it about things for the Thistle, but I don’t hang around anymore like I had been, just to be in her vicinity. When she’s coaching, I don’t allow myself to act like I have something to fix just to watch her, and when I saw her at the game last night, I didn’t go up to the table.
Bea made sure I knew Fable was pissed about that, but I ignored her, needing the sanctuary that my apartment gave me after the game. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t watching her, drinking in her tight black leggings and how adorably the ribbon in her hair fell along her temples. But I kept my distance. I hate letting people control my feelings. Well…I take that back. I like the feelings that Fable inspires, but allowing her parents this hold over me, yeah, it’s fucking torture.