Something dark flickered behind his eyes.Approval.Relief.Hunger.In one swift motion, he lifted me off the floor as if I weighed nothing.My heart slammed against my ribs, my hands flying to his chest in reflex.
“Sir—” I started, my voice sharper than I meant it to be.“I’m not interested in playing games.”
Liar.
But I couldn’t let him think he could waltz in whenever he pleased, not after a week of silence and unanswered questions.
His jaw tightened.His eyes burned with something dark, something unspoken.He set me down—firmly, deliberately—on the edge of my desk.His hands bracketed my hips, his body caging mine, the heat of him pressing into me even though our bodies weren’t touching.
His face was inches from mine, his breath hot, his control fraying.“This isn’t a game,” he said low.“And don’t insult me by pretending you don’t want this.”
“You don’t get to disappear,” I said, my voice steady even as my pulse betrayed me.“You don’t get to ignore me and then show up like nothing happened.”
“I stayed away because I didn’t trust myself,” he said.Honest.Raw.“And I won’t touch you when I’m not in control.”
That hit harder than anger ever could.
“Do you think that makes it easier?”I asked quietly.“Not knowing where I stand?”
His hand tightened at my wrist—not painful, just grounding.
“You stand here,” he said fiercely.“In front of me.Exactly where I want you.”
The rawness in his voice, the vulnerability there, cracked something open in my chest.
“Then why push me away?”I asked.“Why make me feel like I’m fighting alone?”
His breath hitched.
“I don’t want to feel this,” he admitted.“I don’t want to need you this much.”
My hand pressed flat against his chest.His heart was racing.
“So instead, you pretend that you don’t,” I whispered.
He looked at me—really stared—like I’d handed him something he didn’t know how to hold.Then he leaned in.
“I’m standing here,” he said quietly.“That’s me choosing.”
His hand slid to my face.Not claiming.Asking.That was when his restraint finally cracked.
“Creed, I—”
“Stop talking.”
Creed’s mouth crushed mine like the clash of a wave that had been building since the day he left.It wasn’t soft.It wasn’t tender.It was raw and punishing—his teeth grazing my lower lip, his tongue invading my mouth like he needed to take something back that belonged to him.
And I let him.
Because part of me needed the reminder too.
My hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.He groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating in my chest.His hands gripped my hips, dragging me closer until I felt his erection straining against his slacks.Hard.Hot.Relentless.
I gasped into the kiss, and his response was a possessive growl, low and rough in his throat.His mouth moved to my jaw, then to the hollow beneath my ear, trailing heat like a fuse about to detonate.
“You make me fucking insane,” he rasped, breath scorching against my skin.His teeth scraped over my neck—not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make my breath hitch.“I can’t think straight around you.”
I arched into him, surrendering to the chaos he brought.But there was clarity in my chaos.
