A flicker crossed his face—something sharp and vulnerable, like fear brushing up against awe—but it didn’t vanish this time.He didn’t bury it.Didn’t outrun it.He stayed right there, breathing through it, forehead pressed to mine as the moment settled instead of detonated.
And when he finally moved, it wasn’t away.
Creed didn’t run.
He stayed.
His arms came around me, like he’d realized letting go would cost him something he wasn’t willing to lose.I felt the shift immediately.The tension in his shoulders easing.The relentless edge softening into something steadier, heavier, real.
He rested his chin against my hair, one hand sliding up my back, slow and grounding, as if he were memorizing the shape of me in the quiet after the storm.
Neither of us spoke.
There was no need.
The waves outside faded into a low, distant rhythm, and the yacht rocked gently beneath us, the world narrowing to the warmth of his body and the solid certainty of his presence.I waited for the moment he usually pulled away.The moment where distance crept back in.
It never came.
Instead, he guided me against him, deliberate and careful, settling us together until my head rested against his chest.His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear.Strong.Human.
His fingers traced slow, absent circles along my arm, anchoring me there, anchoring himself.
All night, his arms remained around me—protective, unyielding, unmistakably chosen—as if he’d finally understood that this wasn’t something to survive or conquer.
And when he whispered my name like it was a vow, broken but brave, I whispered his back.
And we began again.
Chapter 13
Iwoke to warmth—realwarmth, the kind that didn’t vanish when I shifted.
Not yet.
The air smelled like salt and something distinctly Creed—clean, masculine, familiar now in a way that made my chest tighten.His presence lingered everywhere.On my skin.In the faint ache along my hips.In the quiet certainty of last night settling into my bones.
