“And you’re breaking me by refusing to choose.”
A sob broke free from my chest, and I didn’t know who moved first—only that my hands were in his hair, his lips were on mine, and suddenly—
We weren’t fighting anymore.
We were burning.A collision of everything we couldn’t say.A war of control neither of us wanted to win.
His kiss was punishing, a mixture of anger and possession, his fingers curling painfully into my waist.I arched into him, my body betraying me, my hands fisting his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.
His hands slid down, gripping my thighs, lifting me onto the desk, standing between my legs as his mouth trailed hot, punishing kisses down my neck.
“Tell me to stop,” he growled against my skin.“Tell me to walk away, Peyton.”
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
Because I didn’t want him to.And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t want to either.
Instead, I reached down, unfastened his pants, grabbing his heavy erection in my hand and positioned it between my parted thighs.I closed my eyes as Creed surged forward, guiding his hard cock inside of me.
Creed emitted a long hiss of air.“You feel so fucking good.”His hands gripped my hips, holding me against him, giving me a moment to adjust to his size.
I began rocking my hips, gliding along the length of his shaft, setting up a rhythm, drawing back to the tip before sinking him deep inside me again.“Oh yes,” I moaned.
“Fuck.I can’t get enough,” Creed hissed, aiding my movement, then speeding up, taking control.He pumped his hips back and forth in a frantic need to release this pent-up frustration.He grabbed my head, locking our mouths together, muffling our cries of pleasure.Within minutes, I screamed as an orgasm overtook me.I gripped him while he continued to thrust between my legs with feverish strokes.I felt the pressure of his cock build while pleasure cut into my stomach, tightening my vaginal walls until I was gripping him so tightly he growled and finally released inside of me.
When the last of the tremors washed away, Creed stepped back and turned to look out the window while zipping his pants.
I took a deep breath, my pulse hammering against my ribs as I slipped off the desk and stepped closer to him.The space between us felt fragile, stretched thin like glass ready to shatter.I had rehearsed this moment in my head a thousand times, but nothing could prepare me for the way his presence still unraveled me.
“I love you, Creed.”There.I said it again.
The words left me with no hesitation, no way to take them back.They rang in the air between us, final and undeniable.My voice was steady, even as my throat tightened.
“But I can’t keep living inside your hesitation.”
Creed stilled.
I watched the tension ripple through his body, saw the way his shoulders locked in place, his hands fisting at his sides.For a moment, I thought he might walk away, that he’d do what he always did, shut me out, retreat into the cold control he wore like armor.
But then—he turned.
His gray eyes burned, dark with an emotion so raw it nearly brought me to my knees.
“I don’t want to lose what we have,” he admitted, his voice rough, the edges of it jagged with something dangerously close to fear.
My breath caught.
This was different.The Creed Kirkland I knew never admitted to fear.Never admitted to needing anything or anyone.
“Then stop treating me like something you’ll come back to when you’re ready.”
“I warned you I don’t know how to love,” he continued, his jaw tightening, his control fraying at the edges.“Because I don’t know how to fix how I feel.”
The confession landed between us like a grenade, full of pain and truth and the weight of everything that had ever been broken inside him.
I should have softened.I should have reached for him, told him it was enough that he was here, that he cared in his own way.But I couldn’t.
