“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
A pause.Then he replied, “Very well.”
We took a few steps before Creed spoke again, his voice low, unyielding.“If he approaches you again, you tell me.”
“I don’t need permission to speak to people.”
His mouth curved slightly with recognition.“No,” he agreed.“But you won’t entertain men who test boundaries meant for me.”
I held his gaze.“And you won’t smile at women to provoke me.”
That earned me a look, sharp, assessing.
“Careful,” he said quietly.
“Respect cuts both ways,” I replied.
Another pause.He nodded once.Then he offered his arm.
“Come,” he said.
Not an order.
Alignment.
I took it.
And behind us, across the ballroom, I felt Bane watching with something far more dangerous than hunger.
Interest.
Creed opened a door into a small room, closing it behind us, then moved closer, the air between us bending under the weight of intent.His fingers lifted to my jaw.They were slow, confident, proprietary, then paused.
He waited for me to flinch.
I didn’t.
That was the moment.
His mouth met mine with a precision that was calculated and controlled, the kind of kiss that didn’t ask if it was allowed but proved it had been earned.
Firm lips.No apology.
His hand stayed in my hair, reminding me of what he could take if I gave him reason.The kiss deepened by degrees with a slow, strategic uncoiling.His tongue swept mine once, assertive, measured.Enough to ignite.Not enough to satisfy.My body leaned in before I could stop it, need answering need through recognition.
Then, just as I opened further, just as I let the kiss stretch into something loose, wilder—
He pulled away.
Deliberately.A clean cut that was sharp, and intentional.Not because he was done, but because he wasn’t ready to give me what came next.And that restraint ruined me more than release ever could.
Creed stepped back, just one pace, enough to break the cage of his body without loosening the pressure between us.His chest rose and fell once.Twice.Control reassembled itself piece by piece.
“This,” he said quietly, eyes locked on mine, “is not how I lose my grip.”
My pulse still thundered, my wrists burning where he’d pinned them, my breath uneven.I forced myself to straighten, refusing to fold now that he’d created space.
“Then don’t,” I said.
