Crush (Crave #2) - Tracy Wolff Page 0,168

sigh at the contact. “You feel really good,” he tells me.

“So do you.” I lift my head and wait for him to kiss me, but he just drops a peck on my lips. Which is nice, but definitely not what I’m going for here.

I stretch up and kiss him this time, but again he pulls away after a second.

I can’t decide if he’s doing it on purpose because he’s trying to be funny or if there’s a problem I don’t know about. But when I search his face, he smiles warmly, like he’s having a great time.

And that’s when I decide to take matters into my own hands. Standing up, I hold out a hand to him and say, “Come on, let’s go”—I add air quotes for what I’m now thinking should be our forever secret code for “make out”—“watch the aurora borealis.”

He looks confused. “You want to go see the northern lights? Now?”

“Yes, now!” I would stomp my foot like a petulant child, except I’m afraid the sudden movement will wake up Hudson. And that’s the last thing I want.

“O-kay.” Jaxon gives me a weird look as we move toward his bedroom—and the parapet outside his window. “Any particular reason why? I mean, I’m fine with it. I just—”

I grab him by the sweater and yank him down toward me so that I can slam my lips onto his.

“Oh,” he murmurs in surprise. Then a deeper, “Oh,” as he wraps his arms around me and picks me up and carries me to his bed, our mouths still locked together.

He turns so that he’s the one who hits the bed first, and I land on top of him. I straddle his hips with my knees and start kissing my way along his neck, relishing the way he feels against me. Hard. Strong. Perfect.

Jaxon groans and tilts his head back to give me better access, even as his hands mold my hips. “Wait,” he gasps as I kiss the razor-sharp edge of his jaw. “What about Hudson?”

“Asleep,” I answer, my hands sliding underneath his shirt to stroke the warm skin of his stomach.

He groans and then rolls us until I’m stretched out underneath him. “Why didn’t you say so?” he asks, leaning on his elbows right above me.

“I tried. What do you think the whole ‘aurora borealis’ thing was all about?”

He looks confused. “What do you mean—” He breaks off as understanding dawns. “Wait a minute. That was your move?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a move.” I frown at him, but he’s already shaking his head and laughing.

“I never would have guessed it. The aurora borealis as a move.” He gives me a nod of respect. “That’s smooth. I like it.”

“Obviously not that smooth,” I tell him, “since we’re talking about it instead of kissing under it.”

“Well, by all means, let’s get back to it, then. I’d hate to disappoint you.” He waves a hand and his curtains slide out of the way, showing the aurora borealis shimmering just beyond his window.

And then he’s kissing me and it feels so good. So right. His mouth moving on mine. His hair tickling my cheek. His hands slipping under my sweater and sliding against my skin.

I arch in to him, tangling our legs together as he skims his lips down my neck and across my collarbone. I tilt my head to the side, offering him my neck—offering him my vein—and his fangs scrape gently against my skin.

Anticipation slides down my spine. I’ve missed this so much. I move against him, tangle my hands in his hair, and—my phone alarm goes off, blaring obnoxiously in the silence.

Jaxon pulls away with a groan. “What is that for?”

“I’m supposed to FaceTime with Heather tonight.” I sit up and pull my phone out so I can swipe off the alarm. “Let me just text her and say I’ll call in a little—”

“It can’t be morning already,” Hudson complains with a groan.

“And fuck, just fuck. Hudson’s up.” I flop back down on the bed and stare up at the ceiling.

Jaxon takes one look at my face and does the same. “He always was a light sleeper. Even when we were kids.”

“Yeah, well, it comes from never knowing if your father was going to come into the room and try to kill you or your younger brother,” Hudson snipes back, his voice a little stiff as he must figure out what was going on while he slept.

“That’s awful,” I whisper, my opinion of Cyrus—and Delilah—sinking even lower, and honestly,

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