Crush (Crave #2) - Tracy Wolff Page 0,117

hair is sticking straight up. But—per usual—his sarcasm is absolutely on point. “I mean, seriously. Surely my brother can come up with a better line than that. Or is he just planning on stamping his name on your ass and calling it a day?”

I pull away from Jaxon with a groan before turning to face Hudson, who’s now leaning against the doorframe. “You know what? Bite me.”

“I’d love to,” he fires back, his midnight-blue eyes burning hotly into mine as he leans in close and shows a fang. “Any particular place you have in mind?”

Out of the blue, a not-altogether-bad shiver makes its way down my spine, which in turn freaks me out so much that I jerk back so quickly—from both of them—that I nearly fall flat on my ass.

“Hey, you okay?” Jaxon asks, reaching a hand out to steady me.

“Yeah, of course. I just…”

“I think I know.” He lifts a brow. “Hudson’s awake?”

“Something like that, yeah.” I bend forward, rest the top of my head against his chest. And whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“Never apologize,” he answers. “At least not for that.” Then he steps back into his room, gesturing for me to take a seat on the couch while he heads toward his bedroom. “Give me a couple of minutes to brush my teeth and get dressed. Then we can go.”

“No hurry. We’ve got time,” I call out as he closes his door. Mostly because I’d planned for us to have a few more minutes before we went down to hang with the others…and before Hudson woke up. Apparently, I should have skipped the cafeteria run. But Jaxon looked so run-down all day yesterday that I wanted to make sure he got something to eat.

“Drink.” Hudson flops down onto the chair facing the couch. He slouches into the seat and stretches his long legs out in front of him, arms tightly crossed. His jaw is clenched. And he sounds pissier than I’ve ever heard him—which is saying something.

It’s also fine with me, because I’m feeling pretty damn pissy myself. “What are you talking about?” I ask flatly, as I have no interest in being cordial right now.

“He drinks, not eats.”

“Whatever.” I glare at him. “And will you please stop eavesdropping on my thoughts!”

“It’s not eavesdropping when you’re projecting them through your whole head like a bloody carnival barker,” he shoots back. “No offense, but it’s pretty hard not to listen. It’s also nauseating as fuck.”

“You know what? You’re being a jackass and I don’t even know why. Or did you just use up your entire niceness quotient for the month yesterday?”

“Don’t you mean the year?” he asks with an obnoxious smirk.

“More like the decade, apparently.” I stand and make my way to the table by the door to pick up my hot chocolate—and a book. Because there is no way I’m going to spend the next however many minutes listening to Hudson whine.

“Make sure to check the shelves at the back of the room. I’m pretty sure there’s a book of fairy tales in there somewhere. I mean, if you want to keep telling yourself a bunch of lies.”

“Oh. My. God!” I whirl on him, my fists clenched and a scream building in my throat. “What is your problem? You’re acting like a douche!”

At first I think he’s going to answer me—it certainly looks like he’s got a lot to say when he gets up in my face—but then he just stares at me, eyes blazing and mouth pressed into a line so tight and straight that it has to be painful.

Long seconds pass, and the tension ratchets up between us more and more until it feels like the top of my head is going to explode. Just when I’m about to lose it or scream at him—or both—Jaxon walks out of his bedroom, black jacket in hand.

“I didn’t know if you remembered to bring a coat,” he says, holding the jacket out to me. “The playing field is heated, but the walk there takes a few minutes.”

Hudson turns away, muttering something obscene-sounding under his breath, and there’s a part of me that wants to grab his arm. That wants to demand we finish this argument that makes no freaking sense.

But Jaxon is waiting for me, looking sweet and also sexy as hell in a pair of slim-fit black track pants and a black compression shirt that shows every muscle he’s got. And he’s got a lot of them.

“I brought one,” I tell him, nodding to the back of

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