Not physically.Not really.
I stood near the edge of the ballroom as guests filtered toward the terrace, the hum of anticipation building around the sleigh rides outside.Coats were retrieved.Laughter rose.Glasses clinked.
And Creed stepped away.Only a few feet.Just long enough to greet a board member.To murmur something low and efficient.To become, once again, Creed Kirkland—the man who commanded rooms without touching anyone in them.
I watched the shift happen in real time.
The way his shoulders squared.The way his expression smoothed into something unreadable.Controlled.Polished.
Untouchable.
A familiar unease curled in my chest.
This is who he is, a voice whispered.
This is the man you’re falling for.
I imagined it then—not tonight, not this perfect moment—but later.The day when the girls weren’t charming distractions.When the music stopped.When real life pressed in with questions he didn’t know how to answer.Would he still reach for me then?Or would he step back, the way he always had, retreating into power and silence when things became too real?
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how fragile this happiness felt.How easy it would be to shatter if I leaned into it too hard.
Then Creed turned.
His gaze found me instantly.
Locked.
And whatever mask he’d been wearing slipped—just enough.
He crossed the space between us without hesitation, his hand finding the small of my back as if it belonged there.As if he belonged.His thumb pressed once, grounding.Intentional.
“You okay?”he murmured, too softly for anyone else to hear.
I nodded, forcing a smile that felt braver than I was.“Just thinking.”
His brow furrowed, not in irritation, but concern.“About?”
I hesitated, then shook my head.“Nothing I want to ruin a good night with.”
He studied me for a long second, as if weighing whether to let that stand.Then, instead of pushing, he leaned in and pressed a kiss just beneath my ear.
“We’ll take it one moment at a time,” he said quietly.
A choice.
My chest loosened.
When he offered his arm and guided me toward the doors—toward the cold air, the sleigh bells, the waiting magic—I took it.But the thought lingered just loud enough to matter later.
We stepped outside, the air crisp and biting, and the sleigh rides began.
The sleigh was draped in thick plaid blankets, its runners gliding smoothly over the fresh powdery snow as the horses’ breath curled into the cold night air.We piled in together—me, Creed, the girls—wrapped in warmth, wrapped in something more.The girls squealed with excitement, their hands gripping the edge of the sleigh as they took in the fairy-tale landscape.The estate grounds were bathed in soft golden light, the trees dusted with fresh snow, the stars burning bright above us.And Creed—he held me the entire time.His arms locked around me, his body solid, unyielding, his breath warm against my temple as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to my cheek.
A promise.A dangerous, beautiful, terrifying promise.And as I let my head fall back against his chest, as I let myself sink into the feeling of him, the feeling of us, I knew the truth.
I had fallen.Completely.Irrevocably.
And for the first time in months, I wasn’t afraid.
