Page 124 of Crave
This was never just about water.
This was about him.
About ofallthem.
Andme.
The moment stretched out between us, thick and weighted, pulling tight like a thread about to snap.
Jude didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
But his eyes—God, his eyes.
There was something cold in them. Not detached, not indifferent, but something darker. Restrained. Calculated.
Something that said he wanted to destroy me, and hated himself for it. I swallowed, my throat suddenly too dry, too tight.
He wasn’t like Silas.
Wasn’t like Theo.
They took me with fire and obsession, with greed and possession.
But Jude?
Jude was fighting himself, and that battle terrified me.
Because I could feel how close he was to losing.
And I wanted him too.
I wanted him to fall the way I had already fallen.
“Do you even know what you look like right now?” His voice was low, almost quiet, but there was an edge to it. A sharpness.
I wet my lips, heart hammering.
His jaw tightened. His nostrils flared.
“Do you?” He repeated, the question softer this time.
I didn’t answer.
Because I already knew.
Bruised, swollen, still aching from Silas, from Theo, from the way they had taken me, used me, fucked me.
And I was still here, standing in front of him, wearing Silas’s t-shirt of all things, my panties still damp from my own desire.
Still hungry.
Still wanting.
Still having that sickening need inside my head howling like an animal into the wind.
Still theirs for the taking.
