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.

I bit my lip, wanting him to move, knowing it’d be torment once he did. I’d want them in me again and again. Then he began thrusting. He moved deeper and deeper, adding a second finger, and I arched my back.

His mouth found my throat, moving down. He moved my shirt out of the way, stretching it so his mouth could find my breast. His fingers kept going. I reached down, grabbing his wrist, but I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t. I just wanted more. I moved with him, and as his teeth and tongue found my nipple, I cried out. His mouth was on mine instantly, drowning out my cry, and I could only lie there, captive to what he was doing to me. It was a goddamn ride, until I neared the edge, and then I was over it, and I trembled. He kept kissing me, his fingers staying in me until my body stopped shaking.

“Cross,” I moaned. I reached for him. I wanted him on me again, and he followed.

He moved over me, but he didn’t go inside. Not yet.

I felt him there. He wanted to slip in, but as I panted, he rested his forehead on mine and grinned down. His eyes burned with need. Mine must’ve looked glazed. I was still trying to catch my breath. I felt frenzied and sweaty, all at the same time.

He ran a hand down my arm. “You okay?”

“You ask me now? After that?!” I grinned, and then his mouth caught mine again.

We kept kissing long enough for those fingers to move back inside me and bring me to a second climax. Long enough for me to reach for him and do the same.

I felt wrapped in a cocoon afterwards. I was warm. I was safe. His arms held me, only pulling away once. I was cold for a split second, but then he was back, holding me, and he pulled the blanket over us.

I slept after that.

Cross was gone when I woke. He left me a text saying he’d heard the guys getting up and slipped out to meet them. When I padded barefoot out to the kitchen, no one was there. It was four in the afternoon. That meant both Channing and Heather would be at their bars, and the guys would be wherever. It was a Saturday, so they were probably hanging out at Jordan’s or waiting to find out where the party was tonight.

I called Channing.

“What’s up?” he answered.

He wasn’t in his office. I could hear conversation and music behind him.

“Do I have to work tonight?” I asked.

“Uh…”

He could use the help, and we both knew it. And if he didn’t need me, Heather would. Manny’s had only gotten more popular once Ryerson’s crew started hanging out there on a regular basis. Or I should say, once Heather had allowed them back. She’d kicked all Roussou people out for a while. But when word got out about the brawl, it didn’t deter anyone. It had the opposite effect. Girls from even Frisco were driving over. Bad boys could be addicting, and thinking of that, images of this morning flashed in my mind.

I grew heated all over, feeling Cross above me, inside of me.

“You know what?”

My brother’s voice was like a cold shower. Instant air conditioner.

“Yeah?” I tightened my grip on the phone.

“You’ve been working every single day since your suspension. You’re good with me. Take the night off and tomorrow too.”

My mouth went dry from shock. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. If you still want to earn a paycheck, we can talk about regular work hours, but you start school on Monday. Just don’t fuck anything up, okay? Not right away.”

“Yeah. No. I won’t fuck up. I promise.”

He laughed dryly from the other end of the phone. “Don’t get crazy. I know how crews work.”

“Yeah.” Nervous laugh. “Right.” Fuck. I felt like an idiot on the phone with my brother. What was happening to me? “And Heather is good too?”

“She’s fine. She said Heather’s brother offered you the same deal. If you want to work there, you could talk to them about hours.”

I grunted. I loved Heather. I was thankful Brandon let me work behind the bar, but serving the Fallen Crest prissy crew was not my idea of fun. Still…