Crave

CRAVE

Ayden K. Morgen

Copyright © 2014 by Ayden K. Morgen

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.

To my girls... you know why.

CRAVE

The front door swings open, a blast of cool night air swirling through the room in a welcome rush. The smell of fresh rain and lavender weaves through the crowd, muting the stale odor of cigarette and marijuana smoke permeating the air for a moment.

I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with the soft scent.

Warm honey sends a familiar ache scratching through me, burning in my stomach. The scent lingers around me as if sprayed from a perfume bottle. Memories nudge at my mind... tangled sheets, soft moans, and the slide of skin on skin. Need twists deep, tensing muscles already aching for activity.

The beast within lifts his head from the floor of his cage, cracking one eye wide open in interest. I lift my own head from contemplation of the amber liquid in my glass, my gaze following the ripple of sound weaving through the room like an electric hum.

A woman.

Trinity.

Long, brown hair tumbles down her back, hints of red catching in the hazy light. Her green eyes glitter like diamonds. She throws her head back and laughs at her friend, exposing the pale column of her throat to the room. Her ivory skin glistens.

Christ, she's beautiful.

"I want to dance," she says to the nameless blonde at her side. Her voice is soft, sensual… like invisible fingertips trailing up my spine. The glint in her eyes deepens, hinting at secrets waiting to be unveiled.

I close my eyes, relishing the heat winding through me. It's been too long. The remnants of rain, lavender, and warm honey tickle at my nose again, calling to mind those same scenes. Tangled sheets, soft moans….

I carefully place my glass on the table and pull myself to my feet, my cock already a heavy weight in my pants. I take a step toward her. And then another.

"Trey."

I stop when Marissa says my name, but I don't turn around. Don't take my eyes off Trinity as she moves deeper into the room, her hips already swaying beneath her little black skirt.

The second she steps into the middle of the makeshift dance floor, space clears around her, giving her room to move. No one approaches, leaving her alone.

Good. I won't have to kill anyone tonight.

The blonde with her falls back and is quickly swallowed by the crowd.

Trinity begins to move, her body rolling in time to the music floating through the room. It's hip-hop... loud and aggressive. She moves like she was built to dance, her body undulating to the rhythm.

"I want her," I murmur, the sight of her searing through me, burning again.

"I know," Marissa says.

I tilt my head to the side, spellbound by the innocent glint in Trinity's eyes, like she doesn't have a clue how beautiful she really is. The thoughts of everyone around her are written plainly upon their faces – admiration and desire from the men who want her, and jealousy from the women who wish they could be her... as if they could ever come close.

All eyes are on her.

She sweeps the thick mass of her hair from her neck, still swaying. Her lips curve into a secret smile, as if she's waiting for something. As if she doesn't even know every eye in the room is glued to her. As if she wouldn't care even if she did notice.

I watch her, captivated.

In my world, it's rare, too rare, to find someone not playing some game. Innocence is never really innocence, but an act designed for some other purpose – to inveigle an invitation into my bed, into my inner circle, or into my confidence. I'm never foolish enough to fall for it.

With her though, it wouldn't be falling. It'll be something else... something I crave.

I glance over my shoulder at Marissa, only to find her blue eyes locked on me. Marcus has his arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding a blunt to her lips as she inhales the smoke. Tyson and Rachel are twined tightly around one another beside them, completely oblivious as usual.

I turn back to the girl.

"She's beautiful," Marissa says, untangling herself from Marcus and stepping up beside me.

I glance over at my sister again. Her eyes are wide, dilated from the weed. I'll never understand why she likes that shit so much, but whatever. She's grown. Not mine to control.

"No one's on the second floor," she murmurs.

"Good. Make sure no one follows me."

"They won't." Marissa shrugs a shoulder as if this is a foregone conclusion, already turning back to Marcus.

I eye Trinity again, watching how she moves to the beat. The sway of her hips isn't overtly sexual, but subtly sensual. She's a natural, sexy without even trying. Does she even know how stunning she is? I don't know, but I want her. The artlessness. The sensuality. I need both, desperation to get lost for a little while clawing through me.

"Trey."

"Hmm?"

"Be careful with her. She's not like us, you know?"

"I know." I don't want someone like me. I need a fucking break from this world. Something soft. Good.

Fuck, I need
her
.

I stride across the expanse of the room, everyone moving out of my way without question, and draw to a stop in front of her. Her green eyes flicker across my face. Her smile slips, the tip of her tongue darting out and then disappearing into her sweet mouth again.

"Trinity," I say her name softly, loving the way it sounds on my lips.

I love it even more when she murmurs my name in response.

"How are you?" I ask, pitching my voice low as the crowd around us leans in, trying to catch words that don't belong to their ears and never will. None are stupid enough to invade the bubble of space around us though.

Trinity's dance slows, but she doesn't speak.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I guess." She lets her hair fall from her hands.

That same scent from before – rich, warm honey – wafts around her as the curls fall in thick waves across her back. The desire to see that dark mass spread across my pillows twists through me.

My cock jerks in my pants.

"Do you dance?" she asks.

"Ah, no." I frown, shaking my head, caught off guard by the question.

"Oh." She purses her lips and rakes her gaze over my form. Her eyes narrow. Shrugging, she holds a hand out toward me.

I arch a brow.

"Dance anyway." She grins at me, molten fire burning in her gaze.

The beast growls at the mischievous smile lighting her up from the inside out.

I take her hand, biting back a sigh at the feel of her soft skin on mine. It's heat, energy, innocence... something no one else in this room will ever be able to offer me. A warm rush hums along my skin, simultaneously enticing and soothing the beast.

"For you," I murmur. "I'll dance for you."

She smiles again, nodding.

I pull her body up against mine, my hands sliding easily around her waist. Hers land upon my shoulders, fingers lacing together behind my neck. As if on cue, the music fades around us before starting up again, something slower this time.

We sway together, her body brushing mine in a way that makes the beast virtually purr from the light contact. Her scent surrounds me, a fresh cloud making me ache to bury my face in her hair and stay there. I keep my eyes on her face instead, watching her.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, her gaze roving over my face as if memorizing it. "You're not very scary," she says suddenly.

"No?" I can't help but chuckle at her statement.

She shakes her head. "The way everyone always talks…."

"Little people say a lot of things, Trinity," I murmur, glancing around us to illustrate my point. Low conversation has resumed throughout the room, but furtive, jealousy-laced glances bounce in our direction a little too often. By the end of the night, ten different rumors about us will spread, not a single one of them anywhere close to the truth.

"Do they?" Trinity appears to think about this for a minute before shrugging a shoulder and answering her own question. "I guess so."

"Half the women in this room hate you right now."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"You're beautiful," I answer simply, honestly. "They think that makes you a threat." I know differently. There is no threat where there is no competition. They're just too stupid to figure that out.

"Does it?" She grins at me. "It must suck to be that petty."

"I wouldn't know."

"You aren't petty?"

This time I shrug.

Am I petty?

I don't think so, and I have a pretty good grasp of my faults. But if I was one of the men standing on the sidelines right now, forced to look but never to touch? To never come close to the woman in my arms? Yeah, I can imagine being petty enough to hate the lucky son of a bitch who had her in his arms.

"The other half want to be you," I say instead of revealing that fact.

She smiles again, amused and disbelieving. "It must suck for them. You're kind of beautiful too, you know?"

"Am I?" I smirk, not sure what to make of that statement. I've heard it before, but never without reason. Never as the honest, guileless compliment I know she meant it to be.

"Yes." She inches closer, her fingertips brushing along the hair at the nape of my neck. "Half the men in this room hate you."

"Do they?"

"Mmhmm," she murmurs, eyes riveted to my mouth. Her fingers creep deeper into my hair, tugging lightly.

"And the other half?"

"They want to be you," she whispers, her tongue peeking out and then disappearing between her perfect lips again.

"I think I can believe that. Think they'll hate me more if I kiss you?"

"Maybe," she mumbles, gaze still focused on my lips.

"Trinity." I stop moving and cup her face gently in my hands. I'm dying to feel her mouth on mine, tired of waiting. "I'm going to kiss you now," I whisper, warning her.

She touches the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip and meets my gaze, her green eyes widening with desire. I lean toward her slowly, giving her time to pull away, time to tell me no.

She doesn't.

Her throat works once, and then her eyes fall closed, her lips parting. I bite back a groan, her quiet acceptance tearing through me, igniting fires all throughout my body. My lips brush softly against hers.

Her taste hits me hard – fine wine, sweet candy, and so much softer than anything else. I pull her closer, needing more. She opens for me without hesitation, her fingers scratching against my scalp, sending chills through me.

My tongue dips into her mouth.

She pressed herself closer, her body flush against mine.

Little fires burn hotter everywhere we touch.

The rest of the room disappears. It's just me and her, and the beast dying to bury himself inside of her until the familiar burn bleeds away into satisfaction again. I know if she lets me take it that far, she'll be perfection beneath me. Perfection around me.

She always is. Every time she comes to me like this, she's fucking perfect. Sublime.

I can't get enough.

She slips her tongue into my mouth, pulling a groan from my lips.

A breathy hum starts in the back of her throat.

The beast goes crazy at the sound, battling against the cage, wanting out with a desperation bordering on manic. We can't wait anymore. I need tangled sheets, soft moans, and the slide of her skin against mine as badly as he does.

"Upstairs," I whisper against Trinity's mouth, half question, half demand.

She dips her head once, a soft, "Yes," falling from her lips.

I grab her hand, leading her away from prying eyes and petty minds.

* * * * *

I don't know how we make it from the first floor to my room, but somewhere between long, languid kisses and soft touches, we do. And then there's no turning back. Desire burns in Trinity's eyes. She's as caught up as I am in the moment, the heat… in the craving to take.

I undress her slowly, the beast falling back on his haunches, content to let me lead as silky skin is unveiled bit by bit. She's gorgeous, as beautiful half nude as she is fully clothed. More so.

Her eyes are on fire, her creamy skin flushed with desire.

The faint scent of her arousal makes my mouth water. It's everything I crave every single time she walks back into my life… and everything I ache for when she walks back out again.

She groans low in her throat when I drop her top to the floor and reach out to stroke her breasts through the simple black fabric of her bra. I find a nipple and pinch gently.

Her eyes fall closed on a quiet moan.

"You're beautiful," I murmur, my voice gritty.

I've seen countless women naked before, but none have ever been as natural as Trinity. None ever compare to her. Every soft dip and subtle rise on her body is God-given. Not implanted, tucked, or surgically enhanced, but subtly flawed and still flawlessly perfect.