Page 55

Kota

“C rew?” I whispered into the closet.

A scream nearly popped out when two hands clutched onto my hips, fingers digging deeply into my waist like I was a lifeline.

“I’m right here,” he said, deep and enticing.

My eyes were hardly adjusted to the darkness when I felt his lips brush against mine. Arms folding behind his neck, we tugged each other closer at the same time.

Crew’s curls tickled my skin as his lips made a home out of my neck, licking and nibbling. “No hickeys,” I reminded him quietly.

That wouldn’t go over very well if our roommates noticed.

“Mhm,” he hummed in response, his tongue trailing up and down my neck.

Blinking through the darkness, there were shelves behind Crew. I was leaning backwards, nearly bent in half and struggling to handle his weight. My feet replaced themselves, and with each step, I could feel what I believed to be boxes scattered around us.

Crew’s large frame backed me up against a wall, his hands snaking around to my backside, taking two handfuls of my ass.

When he gave a forceful squeeze, I whimpered, and he shut me up by kissing me. “Shh,” he moaned, but I could feel him grinning against my mouth, “you’re always so loud.”

“Sorry,” I giggled quietly. My hands fell from his neck, gliding down the back of his t-shirt and looping around to the front of his shorts.

He pulled away just enough to shake his head. “Mmm-mmm.”

“No?”

“We don’t have that kind of time.”

Before I could even respond, his hand was down my pants, two fingers sliding my thong over and seamlessly gliding into me.

I snapped my mouth shut, silencing the satisfied moan that nearly escaped.

His touch was becoming so familiar to me, so comfortable. It felt natural to be this close to him now, to have part of him inside me.

Whatever connection had been slowly building between us was becoming tangible, because all our intimate happenings were getting intensified by it.

Everything was slowly starting to feel even better, deeper.

My hips pushed forward against his fingers, causing him to groan in encouragement. Hand shooting to the center of his gym shorts, my small, throaty whine filled the closet from feeling how hard he was. There was a circle of wetness on the fabric, damp from the tip of his dick.

I couldn’t help myself, thumb hooking between the waistband of Crew’s shorts and the hardness of his lower abdomen. Reaching in, my hand closed around him, stroking his dick to earn a groan that he released into my mouth.

Warmth and pleasure coursing through both of us, we didn’t stop touching each other until both our bodies were shaking, and we clutched onto one another for stability.

Our mouths were intertwined to encapsulate the robust noises we couldn’t contain, and we rode the high until we were each panting.

Crew’s calloused hand cupped the side of my face, nearly taking up the whole thing. He came forward, leaving the lightest kiss on my lips before separating himself and backing up.

Immediately, I missed his closeness, but I’d never say it.

“I’ll head out first?” he suggested, catching his breath.

“Okay.”

A crack of light shone through the closet as he slipped out into the hallway, and I waited a few minutes before doing the same.

Crew was waiting for me near the front entrance, and we both gave friendly smiles to the college kids running the front desk as we beelined past them.

Laughter crackled through the quiet car as we hopped in, subsiding as Crew began driving. He reached for the volume dial and turned it up.

My voice cracked through surprise. “Country music?”

“Yep,” Crew smiled. I wasn’t a big country fan myself. There were a few songs I liked, but I didn’t know many.

“I didn’t know you were a country kind of guy.”

In the worst southern accent I’d ever heard, he said, “Well, ma’am, now ya know.”

I chuckled, staring at the endless array of dead trees that were flying by out the window. “Yeah, I don’t think your southern accent is one of the things you’re good at.”

“What am I good at?” he asked.

I could hear the smile shining through his voice. He wanted me to feed that ego, and even though a long list of things came to mind that he actually was good at, I wasn’t planning on admitting any of them.

“Nothing,” I grinned to myself.

“Mhm, alright.” The song came to an end and within three beats of the next song, Crew turned the volume down in the slightest, just so he could speak over it. “This song reminds me of you.”

Head whipping to the small screen in the center of his dashboard, I read Last Night by Morgan Wallen.

Never heard it before.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Just listen to the lyrics,” he simpered, staring ahead as he raised the volume back up.

I’d never been so zoned in on a song before, especially one that I’d never heard. The worst part was that if he hadn’t just said it reminded him of me, I wouldn’t have cared in the slightest about the goddamn song.

But there I was, trying to hear every word, fighting a relentless grin.

A couple that gets drunk, argues, then makes up.

Huh. Interesting.

Everything about it seemed accurate minus the couple part. But why was I kind of flattered nonetheless?

Crew started singing along in that terrible accent of his, and my heart betrayed me by skipping a tiny beat. I couldn’t rip my eyes away from him, couldn’t tame the surge of butterflies that were making yet another appearance in my stomach.

I almost wished I knew the song so I could sing along with him.

Oh no, and now he’s dancing in the driver’s seat.

And God, why did I like the view so much?

On the part that said “Baby, baby,” Crew’s pointer finger dug into my side and a small giggle escaped my lips. If I hadn’t been watching him so closely, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the way his mouth ticked up higher at the sound.

For a song that I didn’t care to hear five minutes ago, I suddenly never wanted it to end.

The sun had been hiding behind winter clouds, but it peered out, causing Crew to glow again in the same stunning way he had when we got dinner.

Crew’s warm hand found its way onto my thigh. He gave the lightest squeeze, and the strong palpitation of my heart probably should’ve killed me.

To my chagrin, the song came to an end, but Crew’s hand stayed, and that brought me some relief.

“Do you have a song for every girl you’ve hooked up with?” I spit out quietly.

Eyes shifting between the road and me, his grin slowly fell, leaving nothing but seriousness as he spoke. “No.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that. I wanted to believe that I was starting to mean something to him if I didn’t already, but I’d never been so scared of becoming attached to someone.

My phone buzzed on my lap, and Crew must’ve felt the vibration beside his hand, because he gave a quick glance. Seeming like he didn’t make anything of it, he looked away.

But it buzzed again, and again, and again, and by the fifth time, Crew’s glance had shifted to a glare.

The air got hotter when he spoke, as if he was breathing out fire. “Is it him?”

The blood was slowly and inevitably draining from my face. “Yes,” I admitted. Chin dipping towards my chest, I peeked over at Crew, gauging his reaction.

It seemed like he’d done a complete one-eighty in the last two minutes, going from a singing and dancing child to a bitter man.

He was solely staring at the road now, jaw ticking as if he was moments away from stepping on the ice for a game. Keeping his voice calm but troubled all the same, he spoke, “I thought you weren’t going to talk to other guys.”

“I’m not,” I was quick to assure. “He just hasn’t stopped texting me since the other night.”

The car skidded to the curb, jolting me, and my hands shot out to the door and the center console to steady myself as Crew parked us on the side of the road, just blocks away from our apartment.

“What are you doing?” I panicked.

His whole body turned towards me. “Do you want him to be contacting you?”

I blinked at him, mouth slightly agape. What the fuck?

“I mean,” I paused, my shoulders rising to my ears, “no?”

“Do you want me to make him stop?”

A million and one responses flashed through my head as I stared at him like a doe in headlights.

What are you going to do?

Why do you care so much if he talks to me?

I can handle things on my own.

But the only thing I got out was, “What?”

Crew’s hand tapped along his own thigh, voice still on edge like he’d burn down the world right now if he was pushed a little further. “If he’s bothering you, then I’ll make sure he stops.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want him bothering you.”

I didn’t need a savior, and I especially didn’t need a liar. One second, it was about me talking to other guys, and the next, it was about protecting me?

My own voice was carefully rising, building up like waves. “Do you really not want him bothering me or is this about you not wanting me to talk to other guys?”

At that, Crew seemed to dial it back a little. “Both,” he croaked.

There was a fine line between being protective and being possessive, and for whatever reason, Crew was straddling that line.

With a soft scoff, I rubbed my forehead. “So, what are you gonna do?”

“I’ll get rid of him,” he shrugged.

I raised a brow, only half-joking, “You’re gonna kill him?”

“No,” Crew chuckled. “Of course not.”

“Then what? Beat him up?”

His head tipped towards his shoulder with a sly smirk. “I mean, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“No!” I shrieked. “I’m not giving you permission to beat him up. I’m perfectly capable of telling him to fuck off.”

His brown irises caught fire, falling from my face to my chest to my lap and back up. Coming forward, he propped an elbow on the center console. “Yeah? Do it,” he dared.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kiss him or smack him.

He was so close, less than a foot away. It would’ve been so easy to grab a fistful of his Cedar U hockey shirt and pull him to me.

Yet my jaw was also tight, and if he came closer, there was no telling if my lips would’ve met his or if I’d bite his damn head off.

All the tension laced into the air would’ve evaporated if I just picked up my phone and texted Bobby, ordering him to leave me alone.

But I didn’t want Crew telling me what to do. And out of defiance, I shook my head. “I will when I feel like doing it. Not when you tell me to do it,” I said.

As his eyes bounced all around my face, I focused on nothing other than keeping my expression stern and deadly. He needed to know how serious I was being.

I would never let a man tell me what to do.

But the dark intensity in his eyes weakened with each passing second, and all at once, it disappeared as a lazy grin greeted me.

“You’re so damn stubborn,” Crew shook his head. A calloused, rough finger met my chin, tipping it upward as he stained my lips with the heat of his own. Graceful, slow, and chaste, like the antidote I’d been searching for my whole life. The arteries in my heart were about to burst at the feeling.

There was no denying it anymore.

I was in way over my head.