Crew (Crew Series Book 1)

by Tijan

  Not yet.

  Cross closed his eyes first. When he spoke, his voice was a sensual caress in the darkness. “If they weren’t here, if you were ready, I would take you inside. I would strip you naked. I would lay you down, and I would worship every goddamn inch of your body because that’s just the beginning of what you deserve.”

  If they weren’t here…

  If I was ready…

  “You don’t want to hear all the things I’d let you do.” My voice was a hoarse whisper.

  I wasn’t ready, but I was getting ready. I could feel it happening, and unlike all the other crap in my life—I didn’t fear this change.

  “One day, Bren,” he breathed. “One day.”

  He stood, finishing his beer. “I have to get out of here because I’m starting not to care about where we are.” As he went outside to join the others, his fingers grazed down the top of my leg, over my knee, and trailed all the way to just before my toes.

  I shivered and tipped back my head, finishing my own beer.

  I was fast starting not to care either.

  “You still pissed at me?”

  It was four in the morning, and saying we were wasted was an understatement. We’d all gathered around the bonfire, though I didn’t know how we were sitting upright. Well, Zellman was lying on the ground. His eyes were open, and his head was propped up. He stared at the fire like it was the rainbow to his marijuana high. If he could’ve made love to the flames, I’m sure he would’ve tried.

  I looked across the fire to where Jordan sat. His eyes still seemed alert. That wasn’t a surprise. He had more body mass, so he had a better tolerance—or that was my excuse for how my own sharpness had lessened.

  I felt myself tipping over, but I caught myself. The log had been sturdy and sound when I first sat down. Who knew when it had decided to tip out from under me? I glanced around. No one seemed to have noticed.

  “Bren.”

  “What?” I looked up.

  Oh yeah. Jordan.

  I frowned. He’d asked a question. I snapped my fingers. “Yes!”

  “You’re still pissed?”

  “I remembered.”

  “What?”

  “Huh?”

  Cross’ head moved back and forth between us as we spoke. He held a hand up now. “Stop. I’m confused.”

  “I am too.” I lifted my beer. I could see two, but I knew I was only holding one.

  “I asked if you were still pissed at me.” Jordan was scowling. That wasn’t good.

  I looked to Cross. “He’s asking if you’re still pissed at him.” I waved my beer toward Jordan. “Answer him.” I leaned closer. “Am I holding two beers?”

  “One.” Cross turned to Jordan. “You’re asking Bren?”

  “What?” Jordan rubbed his forehead. “I’m not pissed at you, or Bren.” His hand fell to his mouth, and his eyes widened. “I can’t feel my lips.”

  I pointed the right beer at him. “Maybe they’re pissed at you.”

  He wasn’t paying attention. He began rubbing his lips together. “Am I doing something? I’m trying to move my mouth around.”

  Cross grunted. “You’re drunk. You both are.”

  “You too.” I pointed at him.

  “No. I stopped after I left you on the porch.”

  The porch.

  I gulped. The porch had been hot. Like, hella hot. Like, I didn’t think I could walk through it without squeezing my legs together—that kind of hot. Cross got girls. I knew he always had, but if he talked like that to them… I felt a bit sick. Something squeezed in my chest. I think it was jealousy.

  All those girls. Man. He’d been with a lot of them, and I’d been with Drake. Stupid Drake. Six-month Drake.

  Drake acted all cool, but he was a fumbler in bed. Not the best there was. Well, I couldn’t compare. It’d just been Drake for me. Stupid bumbling Drake.

  I think I’m on repeat here.

  What was I doing?

  Oh yeah. Jealousy. Stupid girls.

  Jordan is pissed at Cross.

  I scowled across the fire. “Why are you mad at Cross?”

  “Huh?”

  Zellman began giggling. He rolled so his face was almost all the way into the ground. His giggles only got louder.

  “Him too.”

  “No. Fuck,” Jordan said. “Wait. I mean, no shit. Yeah. No shit. And I’m not pissed at you.” He squinted at me. “I’m really fucking drunk. I love you guys.” He looked around, his eyes glazed. He was mostly directing his statements to the fire now.

  Zellman’s laughter lessened, and he lifted his head, like he was doing a side-crunch. “Huh?”

  Jordan clapped Zellman on the shoulder. He squeezed, then patted. Hunching forward, he gazed at Cross and me again. “They sent my sister away.”

  Wait. Huh?

  The bonfire was spinning.

  I heard Cross respond to Jordan.

  Jordan said something about his sister, who didn’t go to our school. Where did Mallory go? I knew, but I didn’t at that moment.

  Why couldn’t I remember?

  Jordan added, almost in a grunt, “You guys know she started at that prick school in Fallen Crest this year, but she’s not handling the assault very well. They sent her away, like away away. She’s not even staying at the house.”

  Mallory.

  Away.

  But I knew that. She started at Fallen Crest Academy this year.

  Cross said, “You didn’t mention her. I’m sorry, Jordan.”

  Another grunt from our non-leader. His jaw clenched and he flicked a hand over his cheek. “I know, but whatever. I had a reason for saying that. You guys.” He focused on us again. “I know I can be an asshole sometimes.”

  There was a dig there, but I held my tongue. I refrained.

  He’d been talking about Mallory. That was serious for Jordan.

  Cross began snickering.

  I scowled at him. “He’s being all open with us. Stop.”

  Cross shook his head at me. “You’ve got no clue what he’s talking about. He could be talking about unicorns for all you know.”

  Wait. Was he?

  I turned to Jordan, my head tilting to the side.

  Jordan rolled his eyes, waving his beer in the air. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh at my expense. I get it. I’m only sometimes an asshole? But yeah, I am. Sometimes I’m an asshole. Sometimes I’m a really fucking great guy. I mean, I love you guys.” He threw his arms in the air. His beer went flying.

  He didn’t notice.

  “I’ll own my shit. I can be a hothead, and egotistical. I like to be the boss, but your words hurt, B. And I’m not throwing a pity party here. I know why they hurt. Because they’re the truth, that’s why. You’re right. I’m not super smart.” His voice cracked. “You and Cross are the smart ones. You two are the thinkers for us. Zellman is the glue. He holds us all together. So what am I? What do I do? Except have a big mouth. But maybe that’s it. I’m the mouth guy. I’m the mouthpiece. I make up with my size too. Right? I push my way in. That’s what I do. I can brawl with the best of them, and you two.” He stopped again. Another breath. “You guys are some of the best fighters I’ve met. I’m honored to have you at my back.” He coughed, clearing his throat. His hands balled into fists. He was looking at the ground now. “I just… I want to prove that I really didn’t have any bad intentions. I mean, I love my dad. I hate that he travels so much for his job—and I’m sounding like a pussy right now. I don’t care. But you guys were there for me with Mallory. She’s my little sis, you know?” His voice sounded gruff. “That means something to me. That means a lot to me.”

  His fists pressed into the sides of his legs, and he lifted his head. Tears shimmered in his eyes. “I didn’t even think you wouldn’t want to see your dad. You never talk about him, Bren. Ever. You don’t talk about anything. I mean, anything. I’m scared to ask you about anything, and I’m in your crew. People look at me like I should know, but I don’t.” He motioned to Cross. �
��He gets to know. Not us. I don’t know. I love you, B. You’re my sister, but in a crew way, you know? And yeah, I don’t know. I’ve always wondered why you don’t see your dad, or talk about him, but I got it now. I said it before, but I mean it. I’m sorry. I really am.”

  He looked right at me.

  He meant it. I felt it. He was being genuine.

  I found myself leaning forward, waiting for the rest of what he’d say.

  “I just, I love you guys.” He clamped down on Zellman’s shoulder again.

  That was profound.

  Pretty fucking smart.

  I grinned at Zellman. He was dreaming about the unicorn, I bet.

  Cross looked guarded.

  I was normally jaded and mistrusting, but what Cross said earlier today was right. It was different when it came to the crew. My love for the crew was pure. It might’ve been one of the only pure loves I felt, but it was there.

  I let go of anything lingering toward Jordan. He was crew. He was family.

  I’d let Cross shift through the rest.

  “I love you too, Jordan.”

  His eyes gleamed, and his tears fell. “Really?”

  I nodded. “Really. And if I didn’t say it before, I’m sorry what happened to your sister.”

  “You don’t have any idea how much that means to me. No idea.” He wiped a hand over his nose, sniffing. “Thank you. I mean it. Thank you.”

  Zellman shot a hand up. “High-five, brother.”

  He reached just a little above Jordan’s knee, and he slapped it.

  Jordan looked at me again. I saw the gratefulness there, and I was glad I’d pushed my doubt away. But I purposely didn’t look at Cross. I didn’t want to see his reservations. In fact, I tried not to look until after the fire was dead. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, making the sky a dark purple.

  Jordan squinted, groaning. “Shit. I’m not stupid drunk—I’m way past that. I am totally dumb drunk, and we gotta be out of here in four hours.”

  Zellman sat up, rubbing his eyes. He’d fallen asleep earlier and snored half the night. He looked a little more refreshed than the rest of us. That wasn’t saying much. Scratching his cheek, he pulled up the hood from his sweatshirt so it fell over his forehead. He yawned once more before closing his eyes.

  He was going to fall asleep sitting like that if we didn’t move.

  Too late.

  He started snoring again, his head back in his hood and his legs crossed over each other. He’d stay like that till someone pushed him over.

  “I can’t go to sleep,” Jordan said. “If I do, I won’t get up in four hours to drive back.”

  Cross stood up. “I’ll drive. We can go now before we all fall asleep.”

  Jordan peered at him, his eyelids heavy. “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. It’s annoying how sober I am. Come on.” Cross motioned again. “I’m good to drive. I just need coffee, lots of it.”

  We picked up the mess we’d made, which was a slow and painful process. Jordan wasn’t the only one drunk. I was still seeing double, but Cross zipped around, all stealthy and sober-like. If I watched him too much, I was going to fall over from dizziness.

  Once we got in the truck and got moving, Jordan and Zellman started snoring right away in the back. I curled up in the front passenger seat, waking when we stopped at a gas station. Cross was the only one to get out, and his return was marked more by the whiff of his coffee than his door opening and closing.

  We all slept through the rest of the ride, except for him.

  When we parked, Jordan and Zellman climbed out after me, heading inside.

  “What are you doing?” I turned to them.

  Jordan waved to the house. “We’re sleeping here. Fuck waiting.”

  So that’s what happened.

  Cross turned off the truck, pocketed the keys, and we all went inside.

  It was a little after eight by then. Both Channing and Heather met us in the hallway. Channing was shirtless, scratching his chest. His tattoos seemed more prominent this morning, for some reason. Heather had a sheet wrapped around her.

  He looked us over. “What are you guys doing?”

  Heather saw the others and turned around, disappearing back into the room.

  Jordan and Zellman veered around my brother, heading for the basement. “We gotta sleep,” Jordan called over his shoulder. “We’ll crash down here.”

  “Sure…” Channing said as his bedroom door opened again.

  Heather came back out wearing Channing’s shirt, which hung over her, and shorts.

  “They’re going to crash here,” Channing told her.

  “Okay. Yeah.” She patted his arm. “I’m going back to bed.”

  He ran a hand down the back of her head, smoothing her hair. She stepped close for a hug. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she vanished into their room. The fan turned on a second later.

  Cross and I remained with Channing in the hallway.

  “Aren’t you going to crash downstairs too?” my brother asked Cross.

  Cross raised his chin. “No.”

  That was it. Just no.

  Channing raked a hand over his face. “Fuck. This is going to happen?”

  We didn’t say anything. After another few beats, it was apparent he wasn’t going to either. He wasn’t giving his blessing, but he also wasn’t stopping us.

  Cross nudged me with his hand on my hip. “Let’s go.”

  There was an awkward air in the hallway, but once we were in my room, I breathed easier. I went right to the bathroom as I heard Cross turn the lock. I wasn’t thinking about the guys and what they’d say. I slept in Cross’ closet all the time—well, I doubted that would happen anymore, but it was the norm. They’d just assume Cross had slept in my closet or on the floor. They wouldn’t question it.

  I got ready for bed.

  When I opened the door, Cross was leaning back on the bed, shirtless, wearing only his boxer briefs. Lust slammed into me. It ricocheted all over, making me speechless for a moment.

  Holy shit. He was gorgeous.

  I’d always thought he could be a model, but I hadn’t let myself fully appreciate him. Until now. Until I couldn’t stop myself from looking at his lean muscles, at the V at his hips. His six-pack was clearly defined, along with muscles I never knew a person could show. He was graced with genes normal people didn’t have. The way there was a slight shadow from his cheekbones, the way his mouth was perfectly sculpted, perfectly rounded, the way his eyes watched my every move. The cut of his shoulder and his arm muscles—he seemed so perfect.

  He seemed almost too perfect at times, and I nearly groaned.

  I bit my lip to keep it in.

  He let out a ragged breath, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His nostrils flared. “Stop looking at me like that.” His voice was rough.

  “Like what?” But I knew.

  That throb was back, and it had intensified, filling my whole body with waves of pulsating need.

  “You know what?” He stood, pushing up from the bed, and I fell back against the wall.

  “Cross,” I gulped.

  “Bren.” He advanced, and I appreciated the few inches he had on me.

  Cross was taller. He was leaner. He was meaner, and goddamn, I had no idea how fucking hot he was until now, until I could indulge. Finally.

  His hand slid around my neck, and he approached until our bodies were barely grazing. My hands went to his chest. I was almost panting.

  “We can’t—not yet,” I told him. My hand slid down his chest, dipping into his waistband.

  But I wanted to.

  Dear God, I wanted to.

  He closed his eyes, resting his forehead on mine. He cupped the sides of my face. His thumbs rubbed over my cheeks, softly, so tenderly. He breathed out, and it felt like a teasing caress.

  I bit back a groan, trying to keep my hands from exploring more.

  “We won’t now, but we will. If you want.�
�� He lifted his head.

  I saw the effort it took. Strained lines showed around his mouth, and he pressed his lips to my forehead.

  I nodded. Holy hell, I would want. I would want so bad.

  “One day.” He dropped back down to my lips, holding there, and I couldn’t stop myself.

  I met his mouth with mine, and I felt like I was drowning.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck. His mouth opened mine, demanding more. I gave it to him. I was willing to give him anything.

  His tongue slid inside.

  I met it with mine, enjoying the feel of him against me, but then he paused—one second, one brief moment—before crushing me to him. I could feel him, feel how he wanted to be inside, and he kept kissing me.

  Even my fucking toes curled.

  I was swept away, not thinking, only feeling.

  He picked me up, and his mouth never left. His tongue slid against mine as he laid me onto the bed. My arms were wrapped around his neck, and my legs wound around his waist too. I wanted him in me, all the way in me. I began grinding against him. I wanted him to slide inside.

  He kept kissing me, his hand trailing down to push under my tank top and cup my breast. His thumb rubbed over my nipple, and my head fell back. I groaned low in my throat.

  This guy.

  My best friend. My partner.

  I had no words. There were only sensations. There was only pleasure pulsating through all of me.

  He took that moment to ease up, lifting himself to the side so he curled against me. I turned my face toward his, and he leaned forward, his lips finding mine once again.

  I sighed at the contact.

  It felt so right, so natural, and it only made me hunger for more.

  Why had I not realized?

  “Why did we wait so long?”

  His hand rubbed over my stomach before sliding down and slipping under my pajama shorts. He moved to kiss my throat.

  “We waited because you weren’t ready,” he said softly.

  “I was an idiot.” My eyes popped open. “I said that out loud?”

  He nodded, laughing as his fingers found my entrance. All laughter stopped immediately.

  I groaned again. “Oh, fuck.” I grabbed the back of his hair as his finger slid inside.

  It felt so good, so damned good.