Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4)(57)

His strong arms wrapped around me, caging me against his body, his scent, his scars.

His truths…

Comforting me and tormenting me in ways I never thought possible.

His mouth collided with mine, a force I had yet to experience, only brought on by him.

Austin.

And I wasn’t talking about the unexpected kiss. His lips were as smooth as they were in my dreams. He tasted exactly how I’d remembered.

Trouble.

His lips parted, beckoning me to do the same. I followed his lead, softly caressing the tip of my tongue with his. Our mouths moved against one another as if they were destined to meet and come together.

A chance, a circumstance, that's all we were to each other. We kissed and kissed until we couldn't kiss any more.

It was loud.

It was maddening.

It was everything.

He softly pecked me, slowing down the unexpected movements of our emotional, catastrophic connection. Resting his forehead on mine to stare deep into my eyes.

“Tell me you felt that…” he groaned, mimicking my panicked, heavy breathing.

“Yes,” I panted, loud enough for him to hear.

He lightly smiled, like that one word, those three letters were everything he ever wanted to hear.

He pecked my lips one last time, slowly letting me go to back away from me. As if we now both needed space, to gather our life-changing emotions.

I turned without saying another word, taking relief in the escape he was offering. By the time I finished his makeshift bed, he was walking back in, closing the door behind him. He made his way over to me, rubbing the back of his head like he often did when he was lost in thought.

“The couch is really comfortable. I pass out on it all the time,” I said, trying to keep my eyes from gawking at his body.

The same body I had dreamt about for almost a year, placed on top of mine. Making me come in ways I never had done with other men. The same body I had just felt beating, throbbing up against mine.

“Thank you for letting me crash,” he simply stated, pulling the blankets back to lie down.

I could sense he wanted me to lie next to him. It wasn’t because he wanted us to keep kissing. He wanted us to keep talking. But I knew that would only lead to more thoughts and emotions and I had enough of them already wrecking havoc on my soul.

“Don’t mention it. Good night, Austin.”

“Night, Briggs,” he replied, failing at hiding his disappointment.

It usually took me forever to fall asleep at night, a curse that had stayed with me since childhood. I would toss and turn for hours till I was exhausted enough to pass the f*ck out. But that night, sleep came immediately. I couldn’t remember the last time that happened.

I had felt a sense of security with him a few feet away. Hearing his soft breathing was comforting to me. Seeing him before the darkness took over, brought me a sense of peace. I could still feel his lips pressed up against mine, our tongues tangled, and his scent surrounding me everywhere.

I could still feel him.

For the first time in forever I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t scared of the night and everything it had to offer. The shadows that crept in the corners were hidden.

At least that night.

I woke up the next morning. My hand immediately touched my lips, rubbing them back and forth. As if his had never left. I felt refreshed and energized. Happy even. So when I sat up and looked over toward the couch, expecting to see a sleeping Austin, all I saw were blankets and pillows placed on the corner of the sofa.

He’d left.

Without saying goodbye.





<>Austin<>


She wasn’t lying about her couch being comfortable as f*ck. I passed out within minutes of my head hitting the pillow. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept in a comfortable, clean place. Even the random couches I crashed on here and there were hard as a f*cking rock. Most of the time I just ended up passing out on the damn floor instead.

I was usually an early riser, always had been. So, it didn’t surprise me that she was still sleeping soundly when I woke up. I sat up, placing both feet on the floor, catching my bearings and stretching. Like every morning my back hurt like a son of a bitch.

I got up, went to the bathroom, and did my thing. When I came back out, I almost started laughing when I heard her sporadic, soft, gentle snoring.

Fuck, it was the cutest thing I had ever heard.

I couldn’t help but stare at her while I was folding the blankets. Her vibrant purple hair was fanned out around her face. She was so f*cking beautiful even without her make-up. More so even. It was then I wished I had a notebook to capture her beauty on paper. Make it live through the pages of my art.

I resisted the urge to crawl in bed with her to hold her in my arms. As much as I tried not to touch her last night, I couldn’t f*cking help myself. She was so warm, smooth, and smelled like everything I ever wanted.

I was definitely caught off guard when she offered me a place to stay. I wasn’t expecting that, and I don’t think she was either. I could sense her anxiety the entire drive to her apartment and even more as we made it towards her door.

Of course I wanted to have sex with her. I wasn’t a f*cking saint. The only time I went home with a girl was to do just that, f*ck her. Briggs was different. She was the first girl I wanted to get to know inside and out. For some reason that didn’t scare me. If anything, it made me happy and that was the feeling I was the most unfamiliar with.