Chapter 4
My pulse pounded inmy ears as I lowered to my knees on the plush rug, the fibers soft against my bare skin.My spine straightened, shoulders rolling back, knees parted.
Waiting.
This wasn’t hesitation.This was attention.Because this was Creed.And with him, obedience only mattered when it was chosen.
The silence in the room pressed close, thick, and watchful.I folded my hands loosely in my lap, grounding myself in the simple act of stillness.My eyes dropped to the floor.
Not submission.Focus.
Then I lifted my gaze to the doorway.Waiting.For him.For instruction.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, unhurried and precise.Each one measured.Intentional.
A signal.
The door opened.
I didn’t move.
Creed entered without a word, his presence shifting the room in ways sound never could.The air tightened.My skin prickled with awareness.
“Look at me.”The command was quiet.Unembellished.
I raised my chin.
His storm-gray gaze met mine, steady and assessing.Controlled.Coiled.Whatever heat burned beneath it, he kept banked.
That restraint was the point.
My breath caught, but I held his eyes.“Tell me what to do,” I said softly.“Tell me how to move forward.”
Creed crouched in front of me, bringing us eye to eye.“You still think this is about fixing,” he said evenly.“It isn’t.”
A pause.
