Page 17 of Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys 4)

  And I always brought the party.

  I was sitting at my usual spot, the best table in the club with random partygoers drinking off the bottles in front of us. Nothing had changed in almost four years.

  Same scene.

  Different faces.

  ‘Young and Beautiful’ blew through the speakers and I began to let the music take over. An unexplainable desire came over me, pulling and pushing me to walk toward the balcony. I didn’t know what I was looking for. An unfamiliar feeling settled in my stomach, in my heart, in my fucking soul, until I locked eyes with the man I had been losing sleep over for the last three days. For the last year.

  Austin.

  My lips parted and my breathing hitched. I don’t know how long we stood there staring deep into each other’s eyes, as if the hundreds and hundreds of people around us disappeared. Everything faded out, the music, the lights, the crowd.

  It was just him and me.

  No one else.

  I watched him make his way toward the stairs, our connection never breaking. Each step he took brought him closer to me.

  Five…

  Four…

  Three…

  Two…

  One.

  The bouncer at the end of the stairs immediately put his arm out across Austin’s chest, denying access. He didn’t have a VIP band on.

  I lunged into action. “Jon, he’s fine. He’s with me!” I shouted over the music.

  Jon eyed me cautiously. Never in the past four years, not even once, had I ever said someone was with me. He nodded, letting Austin through and went back to standing guard.

  “How did you find—”

  He took my hand, interrupting me, and placed the matches I gave him the other night in my palm. Before I realized what was happening, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him, engulfing me in nothing but his whiskey, cigarette, and fresh, clean scent. Wrapping his arms around me, pressing me close to his solid, muscular frame.

  “Fuck… I just wanted to make sure you were real,” he breathed out into my ear, causing shivers to course throughout my entire body.

  My heart pounded against his chest. I knew he could feel it. I could feel his too.

  “You are so goddamn beautiful, Briggs. Do you have any idea how fucking breathtaking you are?”

  My eyes widened. No one had ever said those words to me. No one had ever held me in their arms like I was their entire world. My hands touched his back lightly.

  I was feeling so much.

  Yet not nearly enough.

  He pulled away just enough to caress the side of my face with his calloused thumb, still holding me close with one arm. His eyes told me he wanted to say so much, though nothing came out.

  The club was partying all around us. The bright lights flashing. The DJ was killing it with the music, but none of that existed to us right then.

  We were too caught up in each other to care.

  “What’s your name?” he asked again with a knowing expression.

  “I already told you. Briggs.”

  “No…” He shook his head. “What’s your name?” he repeated, emphasizing the last three words.

  I didn’t know where he was going with his question, and I wasn’t sure how to respond.

  I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly becoming dry. His eyes gazed over as he followed the movement of my tongue. He wanted to kiss me and I so desperately wanted him to. He was causing all sorts of feelings deep within me, and the son of a bitch knew it.

  “Why are you here, Austin? You know what I do. The truth’s out. Why are—”

  “Is that why you left that night? The night I met you on the balcony? Because you’re a dealer?”

  “Yes.”

  His hand moved to the nook of my neck, gripping it a little too hard but not hard enough.

  “I’m here for you,” he simply stated, not caring about what I’d just admitted. “So, I will ask you one more time. What’s your name?”

  “Oh shit!” a girl giggled, running into the side of us, breaking our connection.

  He immediately held her up with a firm grip on her upper arm. His other arm still firmly wrapped around my waist.

  “You alright?” he asked, trying to steady her.

  She nodded, barely realizing she was drunk as shit. Austin glanced over at me and I knew what he was asking. I stepped aside, so he could help her sit down on the couch. He filled one of the glasses with ice water, handing it to her.

  “Drink some water,” he told her.

  With shaky hands, she brought the glass to her lips, took a sip and gazed up at him, like she had just fallen in love. He was taking care of her like a knight in shining armor. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous, when I had no right to be.

  At that moment I realized that Austin had a good heart. He was not only charming, but he was loving, caring, and genuine. I wanted to get to know more of him. I wanted to get to know everything.

  And that scared me more than anything.

  Chapter 16

  Briggs

  I leaned back against the railing and he followed suit.

  “You really are a Southern gentleman, huh?”

  He grinned with a mischievous gaze in his eyes.

  “She will be fine. She’s notorious for being a hot mess.”

  “I’ve seen worse. Shit, I’ve done worse,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “For some reason, I don’t doubt that.”

  “You look beautiful by the way,” he said out of nowhere.

  I blushed. “Thank you, you do too.”

  “Beautiful? That’s a new one,” he chuckled, and I knew he was talking about his scars.

  “Chicks dig scars. It’s that whole bad boy thing,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “So I’ve been told. How about you?”

  I smirked, shrugging just to fuck with him. “I have purple hair and I’m covered in ink. My opinion might not hold high regard.”

  “Is that right?” He pulled my hair away from my face, setting it behind my shoulder. His thumb grazed my cheek. “Your opinion is the only one that matters.”

  He moved his hand away but I didn’t lose his warmth for long. He grabbed my hand lightly and unknowingly drew tiny circles on my skin, just to feel me.

  He leaned over to ask, closer to me. “Speaking of the tattoos. How many do you have?”

  I narrowed my eyes, counting in my head. “One?”

  “Oh, I see what you did there.” He laughed. “The sleeves.” He gestured to my arms, stepping out to stand in front of me.

  “Except the bows…” He leaned down to skim his fingers along the back of my thighs, pausing. “They’re here.” Sliding his fingers up my thighs, continuing his journey. He grazed the hem of my dress, then my panties till he reached my lower abdomen. “Then you have one here, and....” Touching along the left side of my stomach. “Another one here.” Skimming his way to the right side. “And here.” He lightly brushed the tips of his fingers around my stomach. “Scattered writing all along here.” Moving his hand slowly up the side of my breast. “This one here,” he added, rubbing the cursive writing on my clavicle bone, back and forth.

  I. Stopped. Breathing.

  “But my favorite,” he rasped, coming close to my ear, “is the one on your back. One day you’re going to tell me what all your tattoos mean, Briggs. Along… with your real name.”

  And with that, he pulled away from me to stand beside me and continued to softly rub my hand.

  I instantly cleared my throat. “I lost count along time ago.” Trying to sound unaffected.

  “How old are you?”

  “I’ll be nineteen in a few months. You?”

  “Almost twenty-two.”

  He pushed off the railing, turned and caged me in, placing his hands on bars beside my hips. Coming closer again like he suddenly changed his mind and needed to be surrounding me again.

  Consuming me with his touch and presence so that when

he was gone. When he wasn’t around me. When we weren’t together.

  I would miss him.

  His touch.

  His presence.

  The effect he had on me.

  “You’ve gotten all that ink in a year? Damn, you must have lived at the parlor.”

  I shook my head. “No. This…” I gestured toward myself. “Has been over almost four years. I got my first tattoo when I was fifteen.”

  He jerked back, surprised. “Which one?”

  I pointed to the one on my back. His favorite.

  “Is that how long you been…”

  “Dealing?” I finished for him.

  He nodded.

  “Just about.”

  “Where’s your family? Your parents?”

  I looked down toward the ground. I knew this was coming and even though I expected it. I was still at a loss on how to respond and react.

  “Let’s not share our sad stories, Austin. Hmm…”

  “Yet,” he stated, making me peer back up at him. “Let’s not share our sad stories, yet.”

  There was something in his tone that made me immediately ask, “Where are you sleeping tonight, Austin?”

  “Back at the motel. Mike’s here too, somewhere down there.” He nodded to the crowd below us.

  I hated that he said the motel. He didn’t belong in that shithole. No one fucking did.

  So when I blurted, “Come home with me,” it just felt right.

  “Briggs, you—”

  “We’re best friends, remember?”

  He scoffed out a chuckle before we made our way over to the stairs.

  “Jon!” I shouted, making him look up at me. “I’m going to head out. Everything is in the office. I put it all in the safe.”

  He nodded, waving me off.

  Austin followed close behind as I led us toward the private stairs in the back of the building. He ran into his friend Mike and told him he was coming home with me. Mike reminded him that they needed to be out of their shitty hotel room by eight in the morning. He said he would leave a note on the table letting him know where he was going.

  I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I never brought men back to my apartment. No one knew where I lived except my uncle. But there I was, bringing a complete stranger back to my home, one that took me years to build, to feel safe in my own environment, my own surroundings.

  I wasn’t scared that he would hurt me.

  At least not in the physical sense.

  I didn’t know what I was expecting, what I wanted from him. Maybe I was just lonely, years of being by myself and not letting anyone in will do that to a person, and I wasn’t any different. I guess, maybe I just wanted a friend.

  Even though the thought alone, terrified me.

  I pushed the back door open and hit the unlock button on my key fob before I stepped foot onto the pavement. The lights blinked twice.

  “Damn,” Austin breathed out, pulling me away from my thoughts.

  “Huh?” I replied, looking to where he was staring. “Oh. Yeah,” I simply stated as he continued to take in my car.

  “You drive a ‘67 SS Chevelle?” he questioned, cocking his head to the side with an amused expression.

  I bit my lip. I blew at being a girl. I just really liked muscle cars.

  He softly touched along the hood of the car. “A 396 engine,” he said out loud, peering only at the car. “I think I just fell in love with you.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking to the car or me, but we got in before I could give it anymore thought.

  “And the girl knows how to work a stick? This night just keeps getting better.”

  “In six-inch stilettos,” I added.

  He groaned and I giggled, pushing the clutch down, shifting it into first gear. The engine revved, I pushed down the clutch again and switched into second.

  I could see him staring at me out the corner of my eye. Once we got on the street, I shifted the car into third and I swear I saw him smile and shake his head.

  He reached across the center console and started to lightly skim my thigh, as we drove in comfortable silence. I didn’t live far from the club, so it didn’t take long to get home. I made a quick left and we were pulling in and parking my car in the garage.

  I quickly got out before him, needing to get some air. My decision to bring him home with me was purely based on impulse and now I wasn’t sure if I made the right choice.

  My heels clicked on the pavement, mimicking the pounding of my heart as we walked toward the door. I pressed the fob against the entry and the door snapped open.

  My mind started running wild.

  Plaguing questions assaulted my every being till we reached my apartment door. I was about to put in the key, but his hand stopped me. Placing it directly on top of mine.

  We locked eyes.

  “Relax, Briggs. We’re best friends, remember?”

  I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding and he gave me a comforting smile.

  “How did you…” I shook my head and opened the door instead of finishing my question.

  I set my keys on the island and opened the fridge, grabbing two water bottles and throwing one at him. He caught it midair, even though he was busy, taking in all my surroundings.

  My home.

  “Quite a place you got here. Apparently, I’m in the wrong business.”

  I shrugged mostly because I didn’t want to explain or have to answer questions.

  “There’s a bathroom right there.” I pointed next to the closet. “And then the rest is pretty self explanatory. I’m going to take a quick shower. There are towels in that bathroom under the sink if you’d like to take one also. I’ll get you some blankets and pillows when I come out.”

  He nodded.

  I walked away and could feel him watching my every move until I shut the bathroom door. I don’t know how long I stayed in the shower lost in my own thoughts. I changed into some cotton shorts and a tank top, throwing my hair up into a messy bun on the top of my head. I didn’t have a stitch of make-up on.

  When I walked out of the bathroom, the smell of smoke instantly assaulted my senses. Tearing away my insecurities of having him see me without my shield of armor on.

  The balcony door was open and the light breeze was blowing the curtains. I walked out there, finding Austin leaning forward against the railing, wearing just his black slacks. His shirt, shoes, and socks long gone. A cigarette placed in between his index and middle finger, staring out at the New York skyline.

  He appeared as lost as I felt.

  I watched from afar for a few minutes, taking in his scars, welcoming the distraction. I desperately wanted to know what happened to him, probably as much as he wanted to know my real name and the meanings of my tattoos.

  He was right though.

  Every last piece of ink on my body had a reason behind it. Every last piece had a sentiment attached to it. Pieces of my heart and soul were inked on my skin, etched in permanently for everyone to see, but to never know the significance, the meaning.

  That was reserved just for me.

  When he took a drag of his cigarette and blew it out into the air, I didn’t know if it was the smoke, the fresh clean scent of his shower or just him, but I found myself reaching out to touch the scar right down the center of his back. It was the worst one I’d seen on him so far. The skin was raised and mangled as if glass had torn into him, piece by piece, settling into his skin for hours and becoming apart of him.

  He immediately froze the second he felt my touch against it, my presence around him, knowing what I was doing. What I was thinking, the answers to my questions, I sought since the first time I laid my eyes on him. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

  Every last part of him.

  Scars and all.

  “Briggs, I—”

  “I’m sorry,” I interrupted not ready to hear his sad story, knowing that mine would have to follow.

  I wasn’t ready to divulge that in

formation. I didn’t think I ever would be. As much as he wanted the truth, I wanted to remain in the lies.

  I immediately lowered my hand and turned to go back inside. Before I even saw it coming he caught my wrist, catching me off guard and tugging me towards him. I lost my footing, my hand instantly pressed against his warm, firm chest, causing heat to soar through my body, starting from my head down to my toes. The other hand still tightly locked within his grasp.

  His strong arms wrapped around me, caging me against his body, his scent, his scars.

  His truths…

  Comforting me and tormenting me in ways I never thought possible.

  His mouth collided with mine, a force I had yet to experience, only brought on by him.

  Austin.

  And I wasn’t talking about the unexpected kiss. His lips were as smooth as they were in my dreams. He tasted exactly how I’d remembered.

  Trouble.

  His lips parted, beckoning me to do the same. I followed his lead, softly caressing the tip of my tongue with his. Our mouths moved against one another as if they were destined to meet and come together.

  A chance, a circumstance, that's all we were to each other. We kissed and kissed until we couldn't kiss any more.

  It was loud.

  It was maddening.

  It was everything.

  He softly pecked me, slowing down the unexpected movements of our emotional, catastrophic connection. Resting his forehead on mine to stare deep into my eyes.

  “Tell me you felt that…” he groaned, mimicking my panicked, heavy breathing.

  “Yes,” I panted, loud enough for him to hear.

  He lightly smiled, like that one word, those three letters were everything he ever wanted to hear.

  He pecked my lips one last time, slowly letting me go to back away from me. As if we now both needed space, to gather our life-changing emotions.

  I turned without saying another word, taking relief in the escape he was offering. By the time I finished his makeshift bed, he was walking back in, closing the door behind him. He made his way over to me, rubbing the back of his head like he often did when he was lost in thought.

  “The couch is really comfortable. I pass out on it all the time,” I said, trying to keep my eyes from gawking at his body.