Crew (Crew Series Book 1)

by Tijan

He was a leader.

  He was just what everyone said he was. He was better than all of us.

  And he was so goddamn gorgeous.

  I reached up, touching his chin. “Why did it take me so long to accept this?”

  He reached for me. “Because my good looks blinded you.” He leaned forward, nuzzling my neck. He feathered kisses there, sending tingles through my body.

  “You’re only human,” he added, his hand skimming up my back. “You couldn’t see around the sun glare.”

  I barked out a laugh, which ended on a whimper as his lips continued to explore under my jaw, then down my throat.

  I felt my legs actually weaken, and I reached for him—to steady myself and just to touch him.

  His arm curved around my back, but then he pulled away. “Not here.” His hand grabbed mine. “Come on.”

  Without a word, I followed him.

  Without a word, I would’ve followed him anywhere.

  He took me around the side of his house. Hopped up on their front porch deck, onto a small bannister outside the second floor, and finally through his bedroom window. I was almost moving with him, just a step behind. I knew this route like the back of my hand, having climbed in so many nights when his parents were still up and on the main level.

  Moving silently and stealthily, he crossed to shut his door, flicking the lock.

  I shut the window, and then it was just the two of us.

  He wasted no time. An absolute look of need on his face, his hands tangled in my hair and his mouth came to mine.

  I don’t know if it was the image of thirty crew against one, or knowing that everyone in my crew knew my secret now, but I felt small. I needed to be reaffirmed of him, of us, of this between us, or maybe I just didn’t want to feel small anymore.

  Maybe I didn’t want to feel like that could’ve been one of us. One against thirty. That’s what happened in this town and this world—we survived. Either way, he was pushing everything away inside me, replacing it with good.

  “Cross,” I breathed, my fingers curling around his jeans waistband.

  He sucked in his breath.

  I leaned my head back, and his mouth moved to my throat.

  I was throbbing for him, and as he pressed into me, I raised a leg. I hooked it around him and used it to bring him more snugly against me. He moved me back, pressing me against the wall and began to move, grinding into me.

  I bit back another moan.

  This guy—threading my fingers through his hair, I turned my head and his lips found mine. God. This guy.

  Why had it taken me so long? Cross had his joke ready, but the question plagued me. Something had blocked me, something about me. It wasn’t Cross.

  His hand caught the back of my neck, and he held me, his lips moving over mine, making me shiver with need. But there was a nagging voice in the back of my mind. She wasn’t talking—not yet—but I felt her. She wanted to say something, but I couldn’t hear it. Or I didn’t want to. Maybe I was scared to. There was something in me, like I was holding myself back…

  As Cross’ hand swept under my shirt and moved to my breast, I stopped trying to figure it out. Whatever it had been, my eyes were open now, and holy fuck, there was no going back.

  “Hmm?” Cross pulled away, his eyes finding mine.

  “Nothing.” I pulled him close, fusing my lips to his.

  I never wanted him to be away. Ever. It felt wrong.

  “This feels too good.” He lifted his head.

  I wanted to stop him, but I didn’t.

  “Yeah?” I asked, panting a bit.

  He nodded, his eyes darkening. He moved in for a kiss, and I surged up against him, meeting him.

  It was a long while before he lifted his head again. His eyes were glazed, his face a little red, but I could feel the real evidence straining between my legs. If I reached down, if I unzipped my jeans, pulled my underwear aside… He’d be inside me in two seconds. One push, and we’d be one.

  I bit my lip, trying to remember why that was a bad idea.

  We heard Jordan call from below. “Anyone know where they went?”

  We stilled. He was yelling, a full roar, so the crowd was loud beneath us.

  A moment later, we heard the footsteps coming up.

  A pause.

  More footsteps, coming to his room.

  I held my breath, feeling my pulse pounding in my ears, but Cross didn’t move away. His arms didn’t loosen, and neither did mine.

  The footsteps stopped outside the door. “Dude!” Jordan pounded on it. “You guys in there?”

  Cross stifled a curse, one hand anchored behind my neck, and he lifted his head toward the door. “We’re talking.”

  “You serious?”

  “Yeah. Go away.”

  I pressed my mouth into Cross’ neck. He ran a hand down my back.

  “A crew talk?” Jordan’s voice sounded strained.

  “A Bren talk.” Cross’ grin was wicked, looking down at me.

  I shook my head, unable to keep from grinning back, and pressed a fist to his chest. He grabbed it, flattening my hand against his chest instead.

  I sucked in some air. His heart was going just as fast as mine.

  “Well. Okay. We’re all taking off.”

  “We’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Bren?”

  Shit. I had to talk.

  I tried smoothing out my voice so it came out normal. “Yeah?”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I, uh…”

  Cross put his lips to my ear, whispering, “What you said at Manny’s, about your dad.” Then he began nibbling.

  I almost melted, my knees jerking.

  “It’s about what I said earlier. I just, I have to—best friend time, you know?”

  “Yeah.” Jordan sighed. “Taz wants to take Race to the hospital, so Z and I are going with the girls. They’re shook up. We’re going to comfort them, if you get my drift.”

  Cross snorted, tipping his head back. “Have fun getting laid.”

  Jordan laughed. “Yeah. Yeah. See you guys.” He tapped the door once in his farewell, then started back down the hallway.

  Cross dipped down, grabbed me around the legs and tossed me onto the bed.

  He followed right after, dropping to the bed almost at the same second. His hands slid up my neck, his fingers moving through my hair, and he bent down, his lips meeting mine, taking mine.

  He commanded, and I answered. I couldn’t do anything else. This guy—I’d do anything for him.

  It wasn’t long until we heard everyone start to leave—footsteps traipsing outside, crossing the lawn. Voices outside, then car doors opening and closing. Headlights came on, some lighting up his room, until suddenly and so blissfully, everyone was gone.

  It was just us. Us and his bed.

  He paused, lifting his head. “Did you want to go to the hospital too?”

  I smiled. “You’re joking, right?”

  He smiled back. “Yeah.”

  This was what I wanted. Him. Me. Alone. I just purely wanted him.

  I wanted to let go of the armor I had to wear all the time. I could with him, and I was at that moment. I was merely a girl being held in the arms of the boy she was already in love with.

  He’d been watching me and ran his hand down my hair again before moving to the side of my face. His thumb rested over my cheek. “I want you. God.” He groaned, his lips coming to mine again. “I want you.”

  I whispered back, “Then have me, because I want you too.”

  His eyes blazed, burning into mine, dark and fierce and powerful, and he leaned down again. His lips touched mine as his hand slid inside my jeans.

  My head fell back. Pleasure and ache surged inside of me. “Shit, Cross.”

  “Hmmm?” His lips moved down my throat. He touched right where my artery was, where the blood was pumping, and began to suckle there.

  I felt his hand on my stomach, and he slid it upward, moving my shirt
as he went. I stretched out, savoring this feeling as he explored my body, pulling my shirt up and off of me. I wore a sports bra, and that came off too. As soon as it did, his mouth was on me. He was kissing, licking, tasting. He was savoring me.

  Every inch of me was in a frenzy. He added to it, making it richer, stronger, making it rise all over me until I was quivering in his arms.

  “Cross.” I grabbed for his shirt. I wanted it off. Now. Desperately.

  Taking the end, I pulled it up and Cross pulled back, helping toss it off of him. He paused, right there, settled firmly between my legs, his jeans unbuckled, and his shirt off. I could see him in the street light. It cast a perfect glimmer through his curtains, just enough where I could see all the shadows over him. Rising up, I began to kiss him. I kissed his chest, moving down, lingering, exploring him the way he had done to me.

  I made him shake, quiver, groan.

  And when I couldn’t wait any longer, when the throbbing was so strong that I swear he could feel it, my hands went to his jeans.

  “Bren?”

  I looked up. “Yes.”

  That was all he needed.

  He pushed me back down, my head to his pillow, and he lay over me, his entire firm body molding to every inch of me.

  I raised my leg and he caught it, curling it around his waist. One movement, and I was helpless to him. He held me in place as he continued to suck on my throat. His finger slipped inside, a second soon joining, and I couldn’t do a thing except bite my lip. I was gone. I was beyond reality, lost in this ride.

  In and out.

  His fingers kept going.

  “Cross,” I moaned.

  I found his mouth, and his lips pressed over mine. His fingers plunged in again. A gentle pressure from his lips, and then he cursed under his breath. His fingers came out of me, but he made quick work of pulling my other leg around his waist. I locked them around him, and he undid his zipper. He leaned over, opening his drawer, and I heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper.

  He paused, holding himself above me, lined up at my entrance. “You sure?”

  I opened my eyes and saw him hovering an inch from me. “Get the fuck inside me.”

  His eyes darkened, and he pushed inside. Sliding to the hilt.

  I gasped. Finally.

  He was inside.

  He waited for me to adjust, stretching me, and with a low, guttural groan, he began moving in me. Slowly at first, his hands finding mine, our fingers lacing together, he pressed my hands to the side of my head. There was nowhere else I wanted to be.

  In this moment, I felt more than I’d ever felt. Pleasure laced my insides as he thrust in, slid out, paused, and went back in.

  My hips moved with him as he started to speed up. I strained to feel every inch of him. I wanted him as deep as possible. I felt him in my fucking stomach.

  “Fuck, Bren.” His hands moved to my hips, and he held me tight. He began going harder, a little rougher. My climax was building—whipping through me, making me feel feverish, but I couldn’t do anything except go with him. I wanted it harder. I wanted it rougher. I wanted him to stay in me forever.

  My hands went around his back, and he tipped my hips up, thrusting deep and pausing. He ground in there, and I groaned. I felt myself coming, but I wanted to hold off. I wanted to go with him.

  As I raked my nails down his back, he let out a deep growl and began ramming into me.

  “Cross!”

  His mouth found mine again. His tongue was inside, and I opened for him, feeling him at both ends.

  He pummeled into me, and when he slowed, I felt him coming just as my climax ripped through me. We surged together, our bodies straining to get closer than was possible.

  Waves went through me, and Cross held me until my body stopped trembling. With a soft kiss to my lips, then forehead, he eased out of me.

  I ran my hands over his chest, feeling him tremble above me.

  This was unexpected, but so damned good.

  It was hot. It was fast. It was—he lifted his eyes to gaze at me, and I reached to touch his mouth. God, that mouth. How could I crave him so soon? I already wanted to be kissing him, to be holding him again, to feel his hands all over my body.

  “Holy shit,” I breathed.

  I pressed my forehead against his chest, and he laughed, running his hand down my arm.

  He sounded just out of breath as I was. “You can say that again.”

  He pulled off the condom and tossed it into a garbage can in the corner, then moved to lie beside me. He curled around me, holding me tight.

  He lifted his head to look down at me, his eyes darkening once more.

  A lone finger touched my stomach as he murmured, “We’re not moving from this bed.”

  I wanted that too. “Not arguing. I’m good with that.”

  “Good.” He kissed my shoulder, tucking some of my hair behind my neck, gently.

  I felt some stickiness between my legs, and as much as I didn’t want to move, I needed to. “I should clean up.”

  Cross nodded, raking a hand over his head. “Okay.” He sat up as I slid from the bed and crossed to his bathroom.

  When I was coming back, after I’d pulled on one of his clean shirts, his phone buzzed from the floor. He bent to grab it, the screen lighting up his face.

  “It’s from Taz,” he said. His finger scrolled down the phone. He tapped on another text. “Race is fine. She’s staying with him. Everyone else went to Manny’s.” Another text, another tap on his screen. “Someone saw Alex there.”

  “We have to go.”

  “Wait.” Cross grabbed my hand. He was reading more text messages. “Jordan said to hold off. They’re partying with the Normals, but will watch Alex if he’s there. They won’t move on him.” Then he started laughing, putting his phone on the nightstand.

  “What?”

  “He asked if I could keep you away. He’s still hoping for a shot with Tabatha Sweets.”

  Typical Jordan. I laughed. “Of course.”

  Cross tugged me to him again, his hand sliding down my arm and curling around my waist. His fingers moved up under my shirt. “And that means we’ve got the whole night to ourselves.”

  And the whole house.

  “Where are your parents?”

  He grinned wolfishly. “Who the fuck cares?”

  The cough should’ve alarmed me.

  Cross was never sick, and I hadn’t coughed. But it didn’t. It only woke me. I was too sleepy to process it all the way. I opened one eye to find Cross sleeping, his face turned toward me. He was half-curled in a ball, his head missing the pillow. His long eyelashes… I reached out to trace my hand down his face.

  I’d always thought it, but it was only reinforced now: he had so much potential. He was smart. He was handsome. He was funny. He could follow, but he was a leader. He was my leader. I looked down over his strong jawline to the muscles that moved up and down with such ease as he breathed. He was a specimen, a perfect and masterful specimen.

  He was mine. That’s what he was.

  “Are you done ogling Cross, Bren?”

  Both Cross and I reacted at the same time. I flipped around, one hand going for the sheet and the other for my knife. Cross merely leaped over me.

  It was Jordan sitting in Cross’ desk chair, but Cross had lunged for him. He couldn’t pull back, even after he saw who it was. They both fell to the floor, and Cross rolled away and to his knees. He’d had the foresight to put his boxer briefs on again, but not me. My underwear was on, but he’d talked me into letting my boobs breathe free.

  “Jordan!” Cross scrambled to his feet, breathing harshly, which highlighted every single one of the muscles in his chest and stomach. He raised a hand, but stopped. He looked from me to Jordan. His hand lowered. “Shit.”

  Jordan wasn’t smiling. His mouth was set in a firm line, and he looked worried.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Put your clothes on, Bren.”

  “
Jordan—” Cross started, pointing to me.

  Jordan cut him off, waving his hand briskly in the air. “I don’t care about that.”

  I grabbed my tank and pulled it on. The same with my jeans. I couldn’t find my bra, but at the moment, I didn’t care. Something was wrong.

  “What happened?” I asked again.

  Jordan hesitated, glancing back to Cross. “Maybe you should sit for this?”

  No one sat.

  I rubbed a hand over my face. “Just tell us, Jordan.” I looked to the open door.

  “No one’s here,” Jordan said. “Zellman’s at the hospital.” He started to say more, but stopped. His eyes closed, and he seemed to shrink in size, becoming half the guy he usually was.

  “Jordan.” A low warning from Cross. “Just say it.”

  He opened his eyes, first finding me. An appealing look flared for a second, and I stepped toward him. I felt like he was asking me to draw near, but that wasn’t like him at all.

  “Race went to the hospital last night. He was there with your sister.”

  “Yeah. We knew that.” Cross was frowning. He crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging with the movement.

  “And we all went to Manny’s. We heard Alex was there.”

  “We knew that too.”

  A lump was in the back of my throat. “Why’s Zellman at the hospital?” He wouldn’t go to be there with Race. “Race would’ve been released last night. His injuries weren’t that bad.”

  Jordan kept on as if I hadn’t said a word. He was no longer looking at either of us. He stared at a spot on the wall. “Alex was at Manny’s. At first.”

  “At first?” I prompted.

  “He was drinking. Brandon wouldn’t serve him, but he got a bottle of whiskey. He was drinking in the back. Heather looked for him a few times, but he hid from her. Brandon finally found him and kicked him out.”

  He looked at Cross then. His eyes were so strange, I almost gasped. They were bleak and stricken.

  Hurting. They were hurting.

  I felt a whisper inside me, a beckoning. He had the same darkness in him that I had felt, and as if on cue, I felt her wanting to come out. She wanted to rise and protect me.

  I pushed her down.

  Jordan took a breath, then spoke in a voice that was unnaturally soft. “I was making out with Sweets last night. Zellman was shooting pool. We were having fun, and we weren’t watching. Everyone thought Alex would walk home, sleep it off.”