Instead, it made me kiss him.
The kiss wasn’t desperate.It wasn’t restrained.It was deliberate.Two people stepping into something they knew could hurt them, choosing it anyway.
His hands tightened.Mine slid into his hair.
When we broke apart, our breathing was uneven, our foreheads still touching.
“Stay,” he said quietly.“Tonight.”
I nodded.And for the first time in a long time, that felt like enough.
Creed lifted me, carried me toward the stairs; it wasn’t possession that undid me.
It was inevitable.
And even as I let myself go with him—into the heat, into the collapse—I knew this wasn’t surrender.
It was aconnection.
And that was far more dangerous.
The second my back met the wall of the cabin, I knew this wouldn’t be slow.Creed had held himself back too long, convinced himself restraint was safety, convinced himself walking away was control.
That lie was over.
His mouth claimed mine with no hesitation—urgent, consuming, leaving no room for doubt.I gasped, but he didn’t let me pull away.His hands were already at my hips, firm, grounding, holding me there like he needed to feel the truth of us under his palms.
“Creed—”
I barely got the word out before his lips moved lower, tracing the line of my jaw, his breath hot and ragged against my throat.He wasn’t just kissing me—he was consuming me.Teeth.Tongue.Hands.All of him, everywhere, all at once.
And I was drowning in it.
I felt the sharp press of polished wood against my back as he moved me closer to the wall.His hands slid beneath the hem of my dress, palming my thighs, rough fingertips dragging up, up, up—
A warning.A promise.A threat.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said roughly.Not accusation.Confession.“How hard I tried not to feel this.”
His teeth grazed my collarbone.I arched instinctively.
“How long I fought it.”
My fingers curled into his shoulders, feeling the tension he’d been carrying unraveling under my hands.
“What changed?”I whispered.
His answer came without hesitation.“I stopped lying to myself.”
Then he lifted me—decisive, controlled—pinning me there with nothing but presence.My legs wrapped around him without thought.
Oh, God.
The air in the cabin was thick, charged, and static electricity crackling between us.His hands fisted in my hair, tilting my head, forcing me to meet his gaze.
His eyes were dark.Focused.Wrecked—but staying.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he said.Not as a claim.As truth.
