Page 73 of The Crush
“Oh, are you sure you need to go?” I say right as Daniel says, “Have a great night!”
Gabe chuckles. “Yep, I’ve seen enough. I was here when the costumes got put on. I’d rather not be here when—”
“Shh,” I say quickly, and Daniel chuckles. “Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
My brother grins, waving as he heads toward his truck and climbs in. The engine roars to life a moment later, his headlights illuminating the porch and making me squint as I wave back until he drives away.
“I’m going to head out, too,” Tadeo says, and if he hadn’t just handed me the candy bucket, I might have buried my face in my hands, wondering if the two of us had really been that obvious. “I planned to drive across the bridge to see your tías tonight instead of tomorrow since you’re home this year,” Tadeo explains to Daniel, causing my heart rate to slow a bit. “Figured you would rather stay here.”
“Yeah,” Daniel says from behind me. “Maybe Isabel and I can go with you next year?”
Oh my God,whatis he doing to me tonight? First the comment about our bedroom and now he’s offering to take me to family holidays? Ayearfrom now?
“Looking forward to it,” Tadeo says, smiling at Daniel’s suggestion before heading inside. In his absence, the silence feels like anxious anticipation, the knowledge that we’re about to have the house truly to ourselves ricocheting between us.
“Five minutes,” Daniel repeats in my ear, and I can’t help but tremble at the timbre of his voice. He groans and murmurs, “Fuck, I love it when you do that.”
Tadeo returns a couple minutes later, overnight bag in one hand and the other giving Daniel a pat on the back. Before he reverses his truck, he rolls down the window and calls, “I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”
Then we’re alone.
As soon as the truck is out of sight, the candy bucket is effectively ripped from my hands, dropped to the hardwood floor of the porch without a thought to its contents spilling everywhere as Danielhaulsmore than leads me inside. I squeal out his name, which devolves into laughter as he wrenches the door open and then kicks it shut behind him.
His hands frame my face as he presses me up against the wall just inside the door. Then his mouth is on mine, hard, fast, and I’m kissing him back the same way, my fingers reaching and fumbling to switch off the porch light. I feel it flip between my fingertips just before we’re moving again.
My hands grab at the shirt I picked for him as he leads me backward, stumbling here and there with how quick we’re going. My back hits the wall again right outside his room—ourroom, fingers flexing beneath his belt as I try to hang on.
“Almost there,” I mutter on a pant. “Almost—”
His hands are eagerly seeking, reclaiming, as I hear the distinct sound of buttons breaking.
So much for the costumes, but I suppose they’ve served their purpose.
Fifty-Seven
Daniel
I feel like I’ve needed this all day. Needed her against me. Needed her mouth on mine, her hands, her sounds—her. I’ve needed to feelherall day.
We don’t get as far as the bed. Only as far as the middle of the room before we’re tripping up as I try to pull her shirt over her head, and I’m too far gone to steady myself by moving anywhere but to the floor.
Isabel doesn’t seem to care, already arching beneath me as soon as I’ve got her on her back, and I don’t even get her jeans fully off before I’m shoving her underwear to the side and putting my mouth on her.
Her cry is broken, hands fisting in my hair so hard that it should hurt, but it doesn’t.Harder.I want it harder. I want to know she’s there, to bury myself inside her so deep that there’s no room for doubt.
“Louder, Isabel,” I say against the inside of her thigh. Her little sighs and moans too quiet after too much time spent needing to be. “I want to fucking hear you.”
Want to hear her. Want to feel her. Want…Christ, I think I just wantherfor the rest of my life.
She tugs me up before I can get my fill, crashing her mouth against mine as she pulls at my belt and the button of my jeans. There’s no finesse to either my movements or hers, too frantic, too desperate to be careful. She’ll have fingertip bruises on her skin in the morning, and so will I.
When she tells me to fuck her, Isabel’s voice is no longer soft but demanding, and I flip her on her stomach, tangling my fingers in her hair to get her on her hands and knees to take me.
“You perfect thing,” I praise as I grip her hips and thrust into her in one deep stroke, soaking up the way she chants my name when I start to move. “You’re so fucking wet. You love it like this, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she moans back, clenching greedily around me. “Yes, need you.”
My left hand switches from her hip to her shoulder, pulling her up so that her back is against my chest and I can reach every part of her, possessively palming the weight of her breasts while my right hand slips between her legs.
