Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4)(62)

“Ohhhh, little girl, that’s a way to get hurt,” I threatened, grabbing her arms and locking them above her head.

I hated my neck being touched, too many years of being tortured as a child by my family members thinking it was funny to tickle my neck for entertainment.

My body was now on top of hers and I saw it immediately. Her eyes glazed over and her pupils dilated. Revealing the look of lust that I had grown so accustom to.

It had been five months since I left with her and all we did was talk, cuddle, and flirt relentlessly with each other. I couldn’t remember the last time I went this long without having sex, and yet it didn’t f*cking bother me. Not one bit. What Briggs and I shared was deeper than any piece of * could ever offer me. Not that I didn’t want to bury my cock deep inside her.

She was everything.

She bit her lip, waiting for what I was going to do next. I hadn’t kissed her since the night on her balcony. That one kiss was all I had to hold me over.

“What’s your name?” I rasped, feeling the effect she always had on me.

I’d probably asked her like fifty times up until that point and each time she changed the subject or she would blatantly lie to me and say “Briggs.”

As the months went by, I learned more and more about her. How she would bite her lip when she was nervous, like she was doing right now. How she would never leave the hotel without wearing makeup, her hair was always down and flowing around her face. How the clothes she wore were always revealing, but it wasn’t because she wanted to show off her body.

It was the tattoos.

For some reason she wanted them on full display. It wasn’t to show off her ink. It was her way of sharing a piece of her soul with the world she tried to keep at bay.

One of the first things that caught me by surprise was how much she loved to read. Each night it was a new book. The innocence about her exposed every time she told me about the characters and the storylines, as if they were her friends or she was living vicariously through them. She beamed while she read and I could tell what was happening in the book based off her expressions. Especially if something bad was happening, she would place her hand over her heart. Like she was trying to hold it together.

Briggs also had sad moments. Her reflect time was what I called it. The way she would get lost in her own mind when she thought I wasn’t looking. How she would pretend to be sleeping when she knew I was watching her sleep.

Getting lost in her beauty.

These were just to name a few, and even though I cherished every new thing I learned about her, it wasn’t what I craved.

And the crazy thing about that was she knew it.

“Austin…” she pleaded for me to stop insisting on knowing her truths.

I wouldn’t until I knew them.

Every. Last. One.

“These last five months have been the best days of my life. Being with you.”

She swallowed hard, her resistance wavering.

“No one has ever made me feel the way you do. You have the ability to bring me to my knees with just a look. You’re my drug, my addiction. I know that Briggs is a part of you. I know she exists but I also know that she doesn’t. Tell me your name. And I’ll give you everything you’ve been dreaming about.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth parted.

“You talk in your sleep. You also kind of snore.”

“I don’t snore.” She tried to slap my chest but I caught her hand mid-swing.

“It’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.”

She sighed, revealing her internal struggle. “You’re my friend, Austin. My only friend. Trust me… I’ve let you in.”

I leaned in close to her face, our mouths a few inches apart with our connection never breaking. I didn’t falter and whispered, “I want to be your friend that makes you come. I want you in my bed. More than you’ll ever know. Just tell me your name…”

She looked deep into my eyes and lied,

“My name is Briggs.”





Chapter 18





<>Austin<>



“Austin, why don’t you ever take your shirt off unless we’re in our hotel room?” Briggs asked, looking over at me from the kitchen where she was making us some food.

I could see her out the corner of my eyes but didn’t look up to acknowledge her question. I was sitting on the couch adjacent to her with my notebook in my hands.

“Hmm…” I replied, barely paying any attention.

I was too caught up, my hand bleeding against the page.

“Your shirt? You don’t have a shirt on right now. You don’t even take it off when we’re at the beach or the pool. You barely wear one when we’re in our hotel rooms. So, I’m asking you the reason for that?”

I closed my notebook and set it beside me. I hadn’t shared my talent with her yet. She knew what my notebook was for. It was kind of hard to hide something from someone you have been with for seven months. But I hadn’t shown her any sketches yet. I wasn’t ready to let her into that part of my life, especially since she had yet to tell me her name.

She also wasn’t ready to see them.

I gave up on asking her what her real name was. Mainly because I was tired of getting disappointed and having her blatantly lie to my face. A man could only take so much let down. I think it bothered her that I stopped asking. She was getting lost in thought more often than ever before.