Page 91 of Crew Princess
“So physical violence?” Tabatha swaggered over to her boyfriend. Her head tipped back. “You’re going to beat him up, right? You might’ve laughed off Sunday, but that’s how you handle things. That’s what you’ve been doing. Why would you suddenly change tactics?”
Jordan shared a look with me. “We don’t only use violence.”
I nodded. “We’ve threatened torture. That’s different.”
“You’re right. We have.” Jordan perked up, fighting another grin.
Tabatha shook her head. “I give up. Whatever. You do what you’re going to do.” She started to storm out, but stopped suddenly and wheeled back around. “It’s just that violence is not going to always work. It’s just not. Why do you think the cameras are here? Because that’s going to work, and it kinda bugs me to say this, because while I used to think the crew stuff was stupid—but hot and dangerous at the same time—I hate it now. I hate that my boyfriend is in the most dangerous and tightest crew there is. And I hate that I constantly worry about him. I hate that I have nightmares a ‘beatdown’ went too far. I hate that I wake up screaming sometimes. My mom runs in. And Ireallyhate that I have to lie all the time so my boyfriend isn’t hated by people who love me, who worry about me. And I really, really hate that no matter how much I love him, three other people will always take precedence over me. That’s what I hate, but even with all of that, there is a need for the crews at our school. Because itisdangerous out there, but because I know when I’m in Roussou, I’m safe. I’m not going to get raped, or jumped, or robbed even. And it might only be in Roussou that I know I’m safe, but that means something. My cousin was raped at a party last year, and my first thought when I heard about it wasn’t about her. It was about me.” Her voice wobbled, growing thicker. “It wasThank God that’d never happen here. And I thought that because of the crews, becauseyou guyswouldn’t let it happen. Everyone’s too scared of you. I mean, the Ryerson crew was scary for a minute because of Alex, but he’s fine now. They’re fine now. You get my drift. Alex got crazy for a couple months, but you guys put a stop to him. That’s my point.”
Alex.Drake.
I’d forgotten about him, what he said. I needed to tell the others.
I glanced at Jordan, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was fully focused on his girlfriend, and I touched the back of his arm. He looked down. I nodded toward her.Go to her.
His shoulders dropped. I hadn’t realized he’d been tensed up, but then he went to her.
“Baby,” he said softly, gathering her in his arms.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she began to sob.
She grabbed the back of his shoulders and held on, burying her head in his chest. He cradled her, smoothing a hand down her hair and back.
Taz was the first to edge out of the room. I was behind her.
Jordan mouthed to me, “Thank you.”
I nodded, feeling déjà vu because we’d been here before.
People were congregating in the living room, except Channing’s friends. They were outside.
Cross and Race sat on the couches, waiting for us, elbows on their knees.
Cross lifted his head up as we came in. “Everything okay in there?”
I sank down on the couch beside him, patting his leg. “Later. Crew meeting.” Taz went to sink down on Race’s lap, and I met her gaze. “We’ve got a Monica problem to handle.”
Cross hovered above me, his lips on my throat as he moved in and out of me.
He’d snuck up when Channing and Heather snuck out. I assumed they went to her house, probably so they didn’t have to be so quiet. Her brother technically stayed with her, but I knew there were nights he wasn’t there. Tonight was probably one of those nights, and they thought they could wait till after three, making sure we kiddies were good and asleep and ignorant of them creeping out. But they were idiots—idiots I wasn’t going to educate.
No way.
Cross slid right back inside, moving nice and slowly—delicious. He moved his mouth to the other side of my throat, his hand and thumb rubbing over my breast. When he’d slipped inside, I thought it’d be a rough and hard ride. He’d been hungry earlier, but I was surprised. It was a slow and tender, making-love encounter, one that made me cry just before I crested, and I’d already done that. Twice.
I groaned as he began picking up speed, his hands sliding up my arms to entwine with mine. He held them pinned above my head, and he looked into my eyes. I was already being a girl, and when he did that, a couple more tears slipped out. He could see inside of me, be inside of me, and I almost couldn’t handle it.
“Show me,” he whispered, his lips nipping mine. He thrust harder at his command. “Show me you. I want to see you.”
God.
He tore a hole right in the middle of my chest, where I kept her buried. She was in there, along with all the pain from my past, all locked up nice and tight. He knew where I had her caged, and he wanted her to come out.
“Cross,” I whispered, a plea in my voice.
“Show me.” He let go of my hand, capturing the side of my face. His thumb rubbed over my lips. “I need to see you, Bren. Not the you in my arms right now, not the you you show everyone else. I need the real you, the one I know you hide. I need you.”
I gasped, and my back arched.
