“Crew…” I start, unsure of what else to say.
What happens when this is over?
Was last night just… last night?
Will I ever see him again?
He reads the uncertainty before I can form it into words, his arms wrapping around my waist. “Stop overthinking. We’re allowed to just…be.”
Just be.
The simplicity of it makes my throat tighten because I don’t want simple. As crazy as it may sound, I think I… I think I want more than just survival with him. Closing the tiny bit of remaining space myself, I slide my hands up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palms. His breathing shifts, but he doesn’t rush me or try to take the lead. When I rise onto my toes and kiss him, it isn’t frantic or confused. It’s as intentional as it was last night.
No, more.
The water falls around us, warm and constant, as his hands glide up my back. His touch is firm but unhurried, a silent reminder that everything between us is chosen, not forced or out of pity. For a few suspended moments, the world outside the shower ceases to exist. There’s no past, no thoughts of the future or what consequences may lie ahead, just the heat of his mouth,the slide of water over skin, and the quiet, terrifying realization that whatever this is—it’s not an accident.
The thought has me pushing up onto the tips of my toes, my arms tightening around his neck. “Doesjust bemean I can tell you I want you again?”
‘Cause I do, desperately so.
Crew hums as his lips find mine. “Yes, because I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you too.”
Thank God.
“Take it,” I say between kisses. “Take whatever you want.”
The growl that rumbles from deep within his chest is nothing short of feral. All it takes is a couple steps backward and he backs me into the shower wall, tightening his hold around my waist as the look in his eyes turns predatory. Hooking one of my legs over his forearm, he easily swipes the head of his cock through my pussy lips a few times, and then he’s in, filling me slowly.
My eyes wrench shut just as Crew groans and flexes his hips, stretching me out to capacity. “God, you feel so good.” His voice comes strained, like it’s taking everything in him not to fall over the edge. “I swear I dreamed of this pussy.”
“So do you,” I breathe out, burying my face in his neck. “I’ve never had someone fuck me the way you do.”
He plunges in and out of me, the tempo lazy and unhurried, thoughat one point or another, I find myself face front to the tiles with the pads of his fingers digging into my hips. My moans, his growls, our skin slapping…every sound is amplified through the steamy space, heightening the moment until he brings a finger to my clit and I fall apart again.
And again.
And again.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
CREW
The mirror is foggedbeyond recognition when we finally step out of the shower. The air is thick and warm, and Alma looks like something I absolutely do not deserve to be casually toweling off beside. Her dark hair is drenched and curling at the ends, her lips swollen from kissing, skin flushed in a way that has very little to do with the steam.
I pass her a towel and mentally tell myself to behave. It’s a short-lived effort, though. She catches the look anyway and her lips quirk with a smirk of their own.
We move around each other in the small bathroom with an ease that didn’t exist yesterday. It’s not awkward. Just… aware. Every brush of skin feels intentional, the urgency burned off in the shower. What’s left is slower. Quieter. More dangerous.
I meant what I said while the water pelted the tops of our heads—we’re allowed to just be.
Pulling my hoodie over her head—sans bra I should add—Alma looks at me through the fabric before it drops into place. “You went back this morning, didn’t you?”
“Yep.” I pop the P, stuffing my legs into my jeans. “I wanted to check where things stood. Also thought it might be a good idea to grab some food.”
Her shoulders square slightly. “And?”
