Page 135 of Crew
Cross turned off the truck, pocketed the keys, and we all went inside.
It was a little after eight by then. Both Channing and Heather met us in the hallway. Channing was shirtless, scratching his chest. His tattoos seemed more prominent this morning, for some reason. Heather had a sheet wrapped around her.
He looked us over. "What are you guys doing?"
Heather saw the others and turned around, disappearing back into the room.
Jordan and Zellman veered around my brother, heading for the basement. "We gotta sleep," Jordan called over his shoulder. "We'll crash down here."
"Sure..." Channing said as his bedroom door opened again.
Heather came back out wearing Channing's shirt, which hung over her, and shorts.
"They're going to crash here," Channing told her.
"Okay. Yeah." She patted his arm. "I'm going back to bed."
He ran a hand down the back of her head, smoothing her hair. She stepped close for a hug. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she vanished into their room. The fan turned on a second later.
Cross and I remained with Channing in the hallway.
"Aren't you going to crash downstairs too?" my brother asked Cross.
Cross raised his chin. "No."
That was it. Just no.
Channing raked a hand over his face. "Fuck. This is going to happen?"
We didn't say anything. After another few beats, it was apparent he wasn't going to either. He wasn't giving his blessing, but he also wasn't stopping us.
Cross nudged me with his hand on my hip. "Let's go."
There was an awkward air in the hallway, but once we were in my room, I breathed easier. I went right to the bathroom as I heard Cross turn the lock. I wasn't thinking about the guys and what they'd say. I slept in Cross' closet all the time--well, I doubted that would happen anymore, but it was the norm. They'd just assume Cross had slept in my closet or on the floor. They wouldn't question it.
I got ready for bed.
When I opened the door, Cross was leaning back on the bed, shirtless, wearing only his boxer briefs. Lust slammed into me. It ricocheted all over, making me speechless for a moment.
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.
