I fucked up.
Bad.
So fucking bad.
I tasted the temptress, and she’s sweet like honey, the pure, candy-coated kind. Soft like satin and as silky as shiny silver.
And fuck me, what a bold little thing.
She’s quick to blush, always. The conversation will have nothing to do with naughty natures, and still, her cheeks are colored pink, simply from being the focus of someone else’s attention. I want to say I didn’t expect a brazen side from her, but that would be a lie. I feel like I knew she’d be this way.
It’s probably why I kept my distance as she got older. I knew then, what I know now.
Davis Franco is a fucking prize, the kind that drives a man to put shackles around her ankles and cuff them to their own. The invisible kind, sure, but shackles, nonetheless. Big-ass, unbreakable ones.
Memphis knew, it’s why he held her so close… so he could keep her for himself. He knew when Davis loved and cared for someone, that person trumped all. Always, no matter what, and he wanted to make sure her loyalty lay with him, so he could call on it when he needed.
And he did, one too many times. He was selfish like that.
She didn’t know this, but he saw me give her her first kiss. It was the summer before her senior year. She was at the boardwalk with her friends, and she had no one to ride the Ferris wheel with because her friends had paired up. I said fuck the Ferris wheel and took her into the haunted house cart ride. The night before she’d asked me to kiss her, but I’d laughed it off and left.
Didn’t sleep for shit that night, so when she gripped my arm, tucking her little head into my chest, like she’s tucked right now, I gripped her chin. Big, fearful brown eyes found mine, and I couldn’t help it. I was angrier, lonelier, and more broken down on that visit home, and couldn’t hold back any longer, so I pressed my lips to hers.
The girl melted against me, fit right into the curves of my body. I was drunk on Davis, ready to back out of the bullshit waiting for me and force Memphis to find a way to fix his own fucking problems instead of using me to do it for him. I’d stay behind and wait for her to be old enough to be mine, but then we climbed off the ride, and when I glanced back at the carts behind ours, I spotted Memphis in the last one. Alone.
He looked right at me but said nothing. I knew without a word, if I stayed, he would too, we’d be bringing trouble to their doorstep. I wasn’t about to allow him to drag her into the dirt like he did me, and he would have.
Memphis never said a word about that day, but I didn’t expect him to. He simply wanted me to know he knew, so he could dangle something else over my head when I threatened to walk away. I hated him long before that day, and he knew it, like I knew if their parents found out I kissed Davis, I wouldn’t be welcomed back into the house that became my home with the same amount of trust I’d earned in my time there.
I was their foster son, and they loved me, but Davis was their daughter.
Not that it mattered, I never did go back after that.
But that was then, and this is now, and Davis is grown. Grown and in my bed.
I can’t stop replaying last night. Over and fucking over.
And over.
How she rode me with our clothes still on, how she did what I told her and let her body lead. The feel of her lips on mine, the sweet sting of her tongue and teeth on my skin. Testing. Tasting.
If I didn’t know her to her core, I might call her a liar. Innocent and untouched, the girl who slid my fingers beneath her dress and was eager to pull my cock into her mouth? No fucking way, right?
Wrong.
So fucking wrong.
She’s brazen, but I’ve seen the way she gets with other males’ attention, be it the dude from the diner, or even how she was with Julius the first day.
When it comes to men, she’s either subconsciously uninterested, anxious, or unsure.
Not with me.
With me, she’s eager, excited.
Comfortable?
A small frown builds across my face.
Is that what brought her to me, a sense of comfort?
“Your hand stopped moving.”
Her sleepy rasp pulls me from my thoughts, and I look down to where my hand rests on the curvy swell of her hip, frozen in the spot where her sleep shorts meet the skin of her upper thigh.
“How long you been lyin’ there awake?” My fingers continue grazing the area, up and down, up and down.
Davis shrugs against me. “Approximately thirty-seven strokes ago, give or take a few.”
“Were you hoping I’d slide a little farther, my little number nerd?” I tease, my lips hooked up as I do just that, pressing my fingers into the dip between her thigh and panties.
“No.”
My muscles freeze. “No.” I push up on one elbow, leaning over a bit to try and get a good view of her face. “No?”
She shakes her head, giggling when I jump up, swing my leg over and pin her to the mattress.
I cock my head, frowning at her. “I’m not seeing what’s funny.”
Her lips press into a tight line, the little brat’s trying to fight a grin.
“Davis.”
“Crew…”
I glare, and she laughs, her big brown eyes roaming along my features.
“You’re cute when you’re confused,” she whispers with a smile so soft, the tension wrapping around my shoulders eases.
She wiggles her right wrist, so I let her pull it free, and my lungs expand when she brings it to my hair, gliding her fingertips along the faded sides.
“Do it,” she says.
“Do what?”
“Exactly what you’re thinking about doing. Do it.”
Heat swims in my gut, my eyes moving between hers. “What makes you think I’m thinking of doing something?”
One of her shoulders lifts along the pillow, but the brown in her gaze brightens by the second. She knows I want something, and the thing is, I’m not sure she cares what it is.
She wants me to have it regardless.
Until your deal is done…
“You told me no.”
“You’re not thinking now what you were then.”
“And if I was?”
Her lips spread into a wide smile. “You’re not, but I’m getting hungry, so you better decide before I climb out of your bed and—”
My mouth shuts her up, and she moans against my lips, gasping as they fold over hers, coaxing them apart so my tongue can swipe inside.
Every muscle in her body eases beneath me, and my forearms fall to the comforter, drawing me closer. I kiss her slowly, and she follows my every swipe with one of her own. She presses on my chest, and I flex my pecs against her palms, leading her to dig her nails into me.
I revel in the feeling, wanting to tear my shirt over my head, but not when she’s this close and touching.
“I want to make you come.”
Her lips curve around mine, and she kisses me back harder. When she nudges me this time, I roll, ready for her to climb back on, to ride me like she did before, my sweats far less restricting than my jeans were last night.
Flat on my back, I’ll feel her shape against me, might even get her juices to seep through a little more to coat my skin.
Davis jumps off the bed so fast, I have no chance of catching her.
I fly up on my elbows, glaring at her as she books it for the door, but freezes there with a laugh.
“You running is equivalent to the word no. I don’t like either.”
“I bet you don’t.”
“Davis.”
“You can do whatever you want to me, Crew,” she promises.
My mind fucking sings her sweet, sweet symphony, and I go to stand, but she holds a hand out, freezing me on the spot.
I glare again, and her smile is fucking teasing, her hair a flirty little mess, shirt hanging half off her shoulder.
Too fucking beautiful.
“You’re pissing me off, Sweets. No isn’t allowed anymore.” I probably sound like a psychopath, but I’m not sure I care. Scratch that, I don’t care.
She broke the seal. She should know what follows.
Davis couldn’t possibly be having more fucking fun right now. “Say yes to me, and I’ll always say yes to you.”
“I’m trying to make you dead on your feet. I will give you double. I’ll keep going until you can’t take it and beg me to stop. Let me.”
“I will let you.” Her desire seeps into her tone, and my cock is thrilled, twitching, but then she says, “When you let me lower to my knees for you.”
My expression snaps so quick, she throws her head back in a loud laugh, and now, all I want to do is bite on her a bit.
My dick grows hard, sticks straight up, begging me to give her what she wants, but if I do, that’s one less thing she needs me for.
I want to keep her as long as she’ll let me.
I push to my feet and approach her slowly, much to my surprise, she doesn’t run.
There must be something in my gaze that screams I need to come and come now, because her eyes fall to the swell in my sweats. Her lips part, and she toys with the necklace around her neck.
My hand disappears beneath my boxers, and I grip myself, groaning instantly, and she quickly looks up.
“Sweets,” I moan, dragging my thumb across her lips as I slowly stroke myself.
She begins to pant, opens her mouth to speak, and then I close my door and drop against it.
It takes her a second, but she lets out a little growl.
“Crew Taylor, I swear to God!”
“Keep talking. It will help.” I smirk as I continue to pump myself.
Her little stomps follow, and I don’t stop.
I lick my lips, tasting hers, and push my sweats beyond my hips. My cock swells and flexes, thoughts of her tight little heat wrapped around it. The vein throbs, and my hips buck.
Her sweet little whispers swirl in my mind, and I don’t hit the pause button until I’m slick with sweat.
I come quicker than I should, and when I’m done, I can’t help the smirk that follows.
She wants to play keep-away; I’m game.
Let’s see who begs first.
Davis
God almighty, why did I think a no-touch zone would be fun when all the touching makes everything so much more fun?
Today was pure torment, as was the night when we fell asleep on the couch and woke with me on top of him. Thankfully, we both had laundry to do today, and Crew had a pile of paperwork to work his way through, so we were semi-distracted from the fact that I knew the shape and size of his prize and he’d tasted mine.
I can hardly believe he did that.
I can hardly believe I initiated it.
But right now? Torture!
We’re attempting to cook dinner together. A very domestic thing to do when neither of us is gifted with such skills. I mean… I can cook, but I stick to box foods and quick desserts, which is why we’re listening to the voice clips my mom sent over and over again while we try and make her famous rice meatballs.
Crowding into the small space is bad for my sanity. Every few minutes, his arm touches me, reaches around me, pulls me in.
It’s intoxicating.
He is intoxicating.
And addicting.
And he thinks so slick…
Crew grips the back of his shirt and tugs it over his head, throwing it to the side somewhere as he steps back up to the counter, leaving him in nothing but a black tank top.
My eyes dart to the heavy bulges of his arm, the sharp dips of his muscles flexing as he rubs his palm over his cotton-covered chest. “All right, I think the balls are nice and tight, don’t you?” He lazily slides his eyes my way, playing nonchalant when he knows my eyes are growing greedy.
He’s being cute, testing me, and yes, his body is ten times more exotic than it used to be, hints of tattoos painted along his skin peeking from under his tank. I’ve yet to have the chance to explore him bare chested, at least not in years, but where he’s new to the art of restraint, I am not. So I flip the script a bit, dipping my finger in the warming marinara—canned, of course, we’re not magicians.
As expected, his attention snaps to my lips, and he frowns, throwing out his favorite word. “Stop.”
I do it again, drawing it to my tongue. “What?”
He grabs my wrist so fast, I nearly fall, laughing as I’m tugged into his body.
Is this real life? Me and him, flirting and on the edge of tearing each other’s clothes off, in the kitchen we share? Alone?
Me and the boy I’ve always wanted but could never live up to.
Crew closes his lips around my fingers, sucking them slowly and scraping his teeth along the tip on each one.
My core pulses, and he smirks, then steps back and slides the tray of meatballs into the air fryer.
“Says it takes thirteen minutes, if you want to go take a cold shower right quick.”
“No, I’m good, maybe I’ll lose a couple layers, like you.” I start to pull my top up, but then there’s a knock at the door and my actions are halted.
Crew looks from the door to me, and I shrug, heading over to open it.
Jess stands on the other side, piping hot pizzas in his hand. He grins, but my expression must give away my confusion because his face falls.
“You forgot,” he says.
I totally forgot.
“No, I… okay, yes, but we haven’t eaten yet, so it’s fine, right?” I look toward the kitchen, where Crew stands perfectly still, staring right at me.
My attention is pulled back to Jess when he says, “We?”
“Yeah, uh.” I push the door open more, but Jess doesn’t move. Neither does Crew. “You met Crew, my roommate.”
“Roommate.”
I’m not sure who says it first, but the title echoes from both their lips, seconds after leaving mine, and suddenly, my stomach swims with nerves.
“Come in!” My words are too fast, too upbeat, and my hand flings out like a concertmaster at the end of an orchestra.
Slowly, with shuffling feet, Jess makes his way inside. He eyes Crew as he heads for the table to set the double-stacked pizzas down, but Crew’s too busy burning a hole through the side of my head to notice.
I look to him and his eyes narrow further.
“I bought another bottle of that wine you liked, but I didn’t want to bring it over without asking you first. I know how you get about having alcohol in the house.” Jess grins, cutting a quick glance to Crew.
A small frown builds along my brow, but I wipe it away.
Why did he say that and look right at Crew?
Clearing my throat, I close the door, rubbing my hands on my thighs anxiously.
Why am I anxious? Jess is my friend, and Crew is my, well, Crew.
There should be no awkwardness to speak of, yet tension tightens the air in the room.
Surprisingly, it’s Crew who steps forward first, bare chest and all.
“We didn’t exactly meet.” He eyes Jess, offering him his hand.
I have to give it to Jess. He accepts Crew’s hand with a smile, but it can’t be easy, when you have the body of a bookkeeper, and the man across from you is built like a beast. A bronzed, brilliantly inked, broad-chested one.
To be fair, Jess isn’t lacking in physique. He’s not too skinny and average in height, but Crew is just… a lot. He’s deep cuts and curves. The kind of brawn you can’t get in a gym, but that solid, working-man muscle. The kind you get from rock climbing and stocking shelves. The kind that comes from manual labor… and a few too many fights.
“Don’t worry about it, man.” Jess nods with a grin. “You were… busy.”
Busy at the bar the first time, sure. Busy going caveman when he told Jess to get lost only hours ago, absolutely.
“I’m busy now. With my girl.”
My head snaps toward Crew.
He heads my way, slips in close, and my cheeks heat when his lips press to my ear. “Pants. Now. Argue, and I’ll toss you over my shoulder right here.”
He stays standing where he is, right in front of me, and it takes me a moment to move.
“Uh.” My face reddens more as I peek around him, spotting the slight frown on Jess’s face before he wipes it away. “I’m going to…” He doesn’t need to know what I’m going to do. “I’ll be right back. Want to grab some drinks from the fridge?”
Jess nods, a half smile on his lips. “Yeah, sure—”
“I’ll get the drinks,” Crew cuts me off.
“You don’t want to put a shirt on?”
Crew scowls in response.
Okay then.
Pressing my lips into a tight line, I dash into my room, pulling a pair of sweats over my shorts rather than taking the time to change them.
It’s still not fast enough, though. Crew is already speaking again when I hit the hall.
“When did you and her make plans for tonight?” he asks Jess.
“I can’t remember exactly, but I work tomorrow night, so we planned for today. She texts me every morning,” he tells him.
Do I?
Jess continues, “We make plans then or I’ll stop by when I see her car. We usually hang out a lot, but we’ve been occupied lately.”
“Doing what?” Crew grills.
“You know, job searching, résumé building. I’m trying to figure out if I want to stay around here.” Jess looks to me as I step up, and a sly smile forms along his lips. “Or if it would be stupid of me to leave.”
Oh shit.
Oh no.
Okay, breathe.
Why do I feel the need to rationalize every word he’s spoken since walking in?
I mean, we would go through spurts of hanging out, and yeah, I think we did talk most days before, well, before Crew. Okay, maybe we did talk more often than not, but it wasn’t—
Wasn’t what? A big deal?
It was convenience, really, or maybe more coincidence, being we were on the same campus every day, lived next door to each other, and had relatively the same schedule for two years. So yeah, our paths crossed all the time, but why is he making it sound so… intimate?
Personal?
A prickle of awareness washes over me, and I meet Crew’s gaze. There’s accusation within them, a harrowing glint conveying the words he spoke to me weeks ago.
Men cannot be friends with you, Davis.
But Jess is my friend, isn’t he?
Trying to figure out if I should stay around here or if it would be stupid of me to leave…
A harsh weight knocks against my chest then, and it’s as if a bright light opened up above me, an astonished, revelatory sound echoing in the distance.
I can practically hear Crew’s thoughts saying, now you get it, now you know, now you see.
The dinger goes off on the air fryer, and I fly toward it, needing something to do, but as I’m pulling the tray out, Jess begins speaking again.
“You know, now that I think about it, it’s sort of odd this guy’s your new roommate.” Jess speaks as if Crew isn’t here, metaphorically stabbing him right in his insecurities. “Him being a bartender and you not wanting liquor in the house. Seems like a big sacrifice to simply share in the rent.”
My eyes snap to Crew, who grins at the countertop, but I know better than to be fooled by the curve of his lips.
I know him, and there’s no doubt in my mind, he’s thinking about what Jess has said. How he’s “just a bartender,” nothing more than a man with a rag behind a slab of sticky wood. How he’s cut from the low-class cloth and can’t afford much more than the necessities life throws at him.
I don’t know exactly what kind of debt he’s in, but I know he’s working hard to erase it. That’s what a good man: a responsible, admirable man does. He works hard to be the best he can be. I know he thinks of himself as Jess hinted too, and I can’t say the outside world doesn’t see him much differently, but they’re wrong.
Unfortunately, when the world looks down on you for your starting point, you’re burdened with building from it, and it creates a sort of hardness. A toughness that can’t be penetrated and a slick, cunning tongue to go with it.
Slowly, Crew’s gaze lifts, pinning my own in place, and I know I’m the punch line before it’s delivered.
Crew makes a show of smirking, his head cocked to the side, palms flat on the countertop in front of him as he serves Jess a slab of go fuck yourself. “Sharing a lot more than the rent, ain’t that right, baby?”
Just like that, my skin is on fire. It must be. I’m burning from head to toe, utterly embarrassed, yet surprisingly, not pissed off. He wants or needs a sense of self-worth? I’ll give it to him if I can. If my words or actions can offer him any sort of self-reprieve, I’m here for it.
All I’ve ever wanted was to be needed by the man masking his shame in a crude comment.
“But sharing is fucking caring, right?” he quickly adds, slipping past me with his discarded shirt in one hand, keys in the other. “Gotta get to work. Enjoy your dinner date.”
Dinner date?
Sharing is caring?
What?!
The door slams with his exit, and when I finally bring myself to look at Jess, I find a broad grin across his face.
He pats the space beside him and says, “Let’s eat.”
I’m not sure why, but a quick, stuttered laugh escapes me, and before I can stop myself, I’m shaking my head. “Yeah, I… no.”
I spin on my bare feet and run out the door, but by the time I get to the carport, Crew’s already gone.
And he doesn’t come home.
