19. Collins
Chapter 19
Collins
C reed sits back on his haunches and my stomach bursts with hundreds of butterflies at his close proximity. It also pisses me off because I can’t let him cloud my emotions. I’m mad as hell at him for carting me out of the club like a damn caveman. Like I was nothing more than a helpless damsel in need of his saving.
Which, okay, yeah it was kind of a turn on at how he took charge and didn’t hesitate to get me to safety when I started going through a dissociative episode, but did he have to do it like that ? Like, what fucking era are we living in here?
I run my fingers through my hair, pushing it all to one side of my head before leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest. Now that Riley’s gone upstairs, I feel the conversation will be a little easier to have with Creed, if I can keep my temper in check. Like I said, I’m not the same peace-seeking girl I used to be.
“Creed,” I start, patting the couch cushion next to me in silent request for him to sit down. He lifts himself up, sitting sideways with one leg folded beneath him and the other hanging over the side of the couch. “Why did you go all caveman on me at the club? ”
“You know why,” he says simply.
Okay then. Guess it’s going to be like pulling teeth to get better answers from him.
“No, I don’t. You’re going to have to explain better.”
His tongue darts out, swiping lightly across his lips, and my eyes are now glued to his mouth. “You shouldn’t be working at a fucking strip club, Collins.”
I rear back as if he’d slapped me. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I scoff. “Tell me you’re joking right now.”
“No, I’m not fucking joking right now,” he mocks my words. “You’re…”
“I’m what? Jesus, Creed, I’m not a fucking child anymore.”
“Understatement of the fucking century.” He mumbles, but I don’t miss it considering he’s sitting like two feet away. I also don’t miss the flare of heat in his gaze as he does a quick sweep down my body before looking away, schooling his features again.
“Then don’t treat me like one, please.” I uncross my arms and turn my body to face his, our positions mirrored, knees pressing together. “Listen, I am a grown adult who makes independent decisions and working at that club—which is not a fucking strip club, by the way—was a decision I made.”
“A fucking terrible decision, at that.” He quips back.
Frustrating, beautiful man.
“Doesn’t matter, Creed. You haven’t been in my life for years. When I was in the system, decisions were made for me. Decisions I had no control over. Decisions I hated with every fiber of my being. But that all changed the day I turned eighteen and saved myself.”
Now it’s Creed’s turn to flinch, not wanting him to feel guilty—because old habits die hard, I guess—I reach out and grip his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “I know what a shithole the Viper is. But it was also a place that was hiring on the spot when I needed quick cash for a place to live. It’s also where I learned a skill that I’ve realized I’m actually really good at. It’s where I learned about aerial art and dancing—no stripping required.” I pin him with a glare. He opens his mouth but I press on before he has a chance to argue. “I won’t hide or lie to you, Creed. Some really shitty, traumatizing things happened to me when I was in foster care and then again more recently. Things I’m not quite ready to talk about yet because talking about them makes them even more real.”
Creed's fingers tighten around mine, and I feel him start to physically vibrate with anger. “You shouldn’t have even had to go through any of that, Stardust .” He says, speaking with a pained calm that surprises me. “I promised I would do what I could to keep you safe, but I fucking failed you. Time and time again, I failed you.”
“What does that mean, time and time again?”
He rakes a tattooed hand through his hair before pulling it at the roots, leaving it looking adorably mussed. But when he looks at me, his beautiful ice blue eyes bore into mine and leave me feeling more flayed and vulnerable than before.
“Um,” he looks down, swallowing nervously before slowly raising his gaze back to me. “Years ago, I got the call that your mom had passed. It was actually social services calling… about you.”
“Okay… what did she want?” I acknowledge slowly, already knowing the result of that conversation, but encouraging him to continue.
“She said I was listed as one of your next of kin, and that Asher was unavailable.” I scoff at that, but he continues. “I remember that day like it was yesterday. The social worker had said your dad was MIA and they were seeking out next of kin to take you in and care for you. I—I was offered the opportunity to take you in…” he sniffs and I realize his eyes were bloodshot, harboring a well of unshed tears.
I feel like my heart is crumbling, but not for malicious reasons against Creed. He inhales sharply before speaking again. “I told her no, Collins. That I was barely an adult who was traveling around on a bus, drinking and partying and--” he stops abruptly, but he doesn’t have to finish. I know exactly what he was doing because what willing woman or man wouldn’t want to fuck the young, successful, sexy-as-sin man that is Creed St. James? After biting his lip for a few seconds, he continues, “I didn’t—I didn’t think it would be any kind of stable life that you deserved. I was a stupid, selfish prick, and because of that one word, that one decision I made, you suffered for it and I am so, so sorry, Collins.”
The first tear rolls down his cheek and I can’t handle any more. My body moves on instinct and the next thing I know, I’m straddling his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him tight. His hands travel up my back before one presses into my lower back while the other finds its way into the base of my hair, grabbing a handful and pulling my body tight against his. My own tears are falling now because I realize just how much guilt Creed has carried all these years. He blames himself for the shitty hand life dealt me.
I burrow closer, burying my nose in his neck and inhaling that familiar scent that is all Creed. “None of this is your fault, Creed.” I whisper, my unwillingness to move from this place of comfort has my lips brushing over the black and white Luna moth tattooed on the side of his neck. “I need you to know that I don’t blame you for anything in my past.”
“Collins,” he says my name and I swear it sounds like a prayer and an apology all wrapped in one word.
I pull away just enough to look into his glacier gaze. His expression is no longer anguished, and instead he looks…fucking hungry. Like a switch flipped in his brain and he nearly looks crazed with how his eyes are devouring mine. Our faces are mere inches apart, his breath softly fanning across my lips and it sends a shiver up my spine. It’s like his confession chipped away some part of the old, tainted part of a past relationship and he’s ready to scale the flimsy wall I had tried to build around myself against him.
“Fuck,” he groans and the sound has desire flooding my core and it takes all of my remaining energy to not clench my thighs around Creed’s. “This is so wrong.”
“What is?” I ask, a little dazed and confused.
“You. In my lap like this.” He says as one of his hands tighten on my hip, pulling me closer to him despite his words .
“Why is that wrong?” I whisper, looking up at him through hooded eyes. I can’t even think right now. I’m speaking on autopilot because my body knows what it wants. What it’s wanted all my life. And that want coursing through me is for Creed .
“Because,” he pauses, his eyes dropping to my lips, so I swipe my tongue across my bottom one before biting it out of nervous habit, but it effectively keeps his attention there. His hand gripping my hair releases and his thumb brushes my lip before tugging it free, pulling it down slightly. It’s tempting to let my tongue slip out to brush it and suck it into my mouth, but I resist. Barely. “You shouldn’t do that.” He groans, squeezing his eyes shut, his voice low and gruff.
“Why, Creed?” Please don’t reject me. Reject this. What could be ‘us’.
He’s silent for a moment, then his eyes snap open, darting away and for a second I think I’ve pushed him too far, but then his gaze snaps back to mine and the heat I see there is even more intense. “Because two years ago when you sent that last polaroid, I decided right then and there that if— when I found you again that I had to know what these fucking perfect, pouty lips tasted like,”
The moment he finishes his sentence he closes the distance between us and takes my bottom lip between his teeth, biting down until I feel a pinch of pain before licking over the spot as he releases it.
My brain is so muddled over what he just did that I can’t begin to comprehend how we’ve somehow gone from zero to two hundred in the span of a few seconds, but I’ve been so crazy about this man my whole life that I’m honestly not mad about it. I’ll think about all the reasons this is wrong for us later. Right now, I have no idea what to expect but I’m breathing harder with excitement and neediness humming through my veins. The determination in this rock god’s eyes tells me that Creed obviously isn’t done with me just yet.
He leans in, our noses brushing, “I decided two years ago, that I had to find out what they felt like before making them mine .” The words are nearly a growl as he swoops in, crushing his lips against mine in the most toe-curling kiss I’ve ever experienced in my life. Not that I’ve had many kisses to compare it to.
My fingers grip his t-shirt, fisting the soft material tight to pull myself impossibly closer to him as Creed’s lips move against mine. He nips my lip hard again, causing me to gasp against his mouth. The moment my lips part, his tongue sweeps out, brushing against mine, and demands more access to me, access I eagerly granted.
I fall deeper into him as he wordlessly manipulates me to bend to his will.
Instrument and Musician.
I love that there is nothing sweet or tender about this kiss. No, it’s rough and greedy, all lips and teeth and tongue as Creed ravages my mouth. I am so fucking hungry for this man that I kiss him back with just as much intensity. I meet him stroke for stroke, getting completely lost in all things Creed.
Every kiss, every brush of his tongue against mine is like a lightning bolt zapping straight through my core, all the way to my throbbing clit. My body now worked into a near frenzy, I’m desperate to ease the pressure building between my thighs. Releasing my hold on his shirt, I run my nails up over his pecs, up the sides of his neck and tangle my fingers in the silky raven waves at the back of his head. I deepen the kiss impossibly harder at the same time I grind myself down into Creed’s lap, the friction causing me to whimper into his mouth. The movement serves me proof on a silver fucking platter just how hard he is for me, and the discovery only adds to my passion-drunk haze.
But just like that, the spell we’d fallen under is broken when Creed’s head snaps back, breaking the kiss and gripping my upper arms to gently lift me up and off of his lap, depositing me next to him on the couch.
The cool leather is like a bucket of ice dumped over me, headfirst. Though it does nothing to cool the heat of the kiss but replaces it with the fucking searing embarrassment I feel at the way he just kicked me off of his lap .
I hug my knees to my chest as I stare wide-eyed at the profile of Creed’s stupidly beautiful face in confusion. With a voice that’s now barely there with emotions clogging my already damaged throat, I rasp, “What happened? What’s wrong?” His head drops back against the couch and he presses his palms into his eyes before scrubbing them furiously through his hair. When his hands drop down, he rests his fingertips against my right knee, but he still refuses to look at me.
The only thing keeping me from bursting into tears with shame at his rapid rejection and stark silence is the fact that he’s still touching me.
“ Fuck, Collins, that was…” Amazing? Earth-shattering? Soul rendering? “it was… a mistake.”
Okay, not what I expected him to say because, fucking ouch. It would’ve hurt worse if he’d actually slapped me, but he doesn’t stop there. “We…we can’t do that again.” He says without looking at me, his eyes glued to the couch cushion between us.
“What? Why?” I implore, my eyes welling with traitorous tears, my heart stuttering and squeezing at his words.
A mistake.
A mistake.
You’re a fucking mistake, Collins. Dad’s voice echoes around my head, threatening to pull me under and I try to shake it off to remain in the present with my current issue at hand.
“Because, Stardust , you’re?—”
“A mistake.” I whisper absentmindedly, still lost in my own mind with that word he uttered, now whispering to the tune of my dad’s voice.
“— Family, Collins.” He corrects quickly. “Fuck, I would never think you were a mistake. Ever. But you’re my best friend’s little sister, I can’t betray him. I can’t betray the trust between us that makes us family.”
That snaps me out of it. All the foreboding, all the panic, all the echoing voices; they all just…stop.
Is he fucking serious right now ?
“Yes, I am.” Guess I said that out loud. I open my mouth either tell him to fuck off with that horseshit, or to argue with him over how cliche his excuse sounds, but he presses a finger against my lips to silence me. “You gonna let me finish before you go apeshit, Stardust ?”
I want to roll my eyes, but I nod instead, needing to hear his reasoning behind shattering my heart just now. “What I told you earlier, about claiming your lips? I fucking meant them. But it goes so much deeper than that. When you disappeared on me two years ago, and all I was left with was that fucking letter and that picture of you? It broke something in me. Like something in my brain disconnected and I haven’t been able to function the same. I’m not the same Creed that I used to be. It’s hard for me to discern between right and wrong behavior when it comes to you, Collins.”
I think back to just minutes ago just before he kissed me, and I believe what he’s just told me. Creed used to be so calm and level-headed, his emotions always so carefully controlled, but there was definitely something unhinged in his eyes that never used to be there before.
“I’m not the same person, and there’s this new possessive, obsessive side to me that might have you running for the hills. I’m trying really, really fucking trying to keep that side of myself in a cage so I can do the right thing.”
I blink at him a few times, trying to process his answer that doesn’t really feel like an answer.
“Creed, I’m going to speak, and I need you to listen very carefully because I’m only going to explain myself one time, understand?” I say and he actually has the right mind to look a little nervous, but he nods once.
“Okay,” he responds softly. I square my shoulders and let my eyes bore into his, hopefully telling him just how fucking serious I am.
“First, I’m going to be really, really fucking brave here and tell you that that kiss was single-handedly the hottest fucking kiss I’ve ever experienced in my life, and I will not regret it no matter what you say or where we go from this point forward.” I glare at him, throwing his exaggerated words back at him, but he just nods in agreement. I watch, though, as he starts fidgeting with his hands, like he’s trying to keep from using them in some way. Like he’s holding himself back. Interesting . Filing that away for later. I take a deep breath and barrel forward on what could be a dumpster fire of a conversation. “Second, we are not characters in some romance novel where we —” I motion my hand back and forth between us, “—two consenting adults who have known each other for a long damn time—somehow need permission or approval of my absent brother to act on our desires, just because he happens to be your best friend with some bullshit unspoken ‘bro-code’ between you two.
“Third,” I hold up three fingers in front of his face as if it will help drive my argument home. It’s a pointless act but it’s a physical reminder that I need to keep talking before I completely lose my nerve and either bolt or sink into a dissociative episode from the anxiety I’m triggering. “I don’t think it’s very fair to play whatever fucking head game you’re playing with me right now. You can’t just say all that growly, possessive shit like ‘had to know what you taste like,” I mock in a deep voice, which makes his lips twitch, fighting a smile. “You’re the one who initiated the kiss, then told me it was a mistake. Though I don’t think it was.”
I take a deep breath and glance down at my chipping black nails, willing my tears and emotions to dry the fuck up and keep at bay. “But if that’s the case for you, then you need to say it again and mean it. But that’ll be it from me. You’ll need to let me go, Creed. Because like I said earlier, I’ve been ping-ponged around my entire life, having decisions either made for me or taken from me, and I won’t let you be another one of them.”
His head snaps up in my direction at my words and the look in his eyes is wounded. He swallows, his eyes searching between mine but the longer he looks, the harder his expression becomes and…I don’t like it. “Collins,” he says gruffly, “Let me start by saying that the last thing I will be in your life is controlling in a way that strips you of your freedom.” Funny, the way he worded that. “I always watched and waited for your letters. Every. Single. One. Even if what you wrote wasn’t positive, I had to know what was happening in your life, to know you were living, breathing, and fucking fighting .”
“You couldn’t have just called me?” I ask with a little too much snap to my voice.
“I didn’t even know you had a phone until you were nearly eighteen, when I got your last letter.” He swallows thickly, “I would’ve reached out to you way fucking sooner, had I known.”
I watch him as he speaks, remembering that day with so much clarity. The feeling of being let down, abandoned, and feeling so insignificant and unimportant in the world. Creed’s nostrils flare and his jaw tics when he continues. “Our manager was in charge of making sure all of our mail was delivered to us within three days of receiving it while we were on tour. He somehow fucked up and it took weeks to get it all delivered. I was so fucking livid. He didn’t understand why I’d be so pissed about mail, because he didn’t know. I didn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t risk you being exposed to the media by anyone on my team. So I kept your letters a secret, letting my bandmates believe it was just fan mail.
“That day, two years ago, when you cut me out of your life,” he pauses, and I wince at his words, but his thumb gently strokes my knee in reassurance, “I felt like a piece of me was cut out that day and walked away with you.” He looks at me without an ounce of remorse when he says, “I hired a PI to try and find you.”
I have to fight really damn hard to not snort a laugh at his admission because I knew about his PI. The moment I spoke to him and he didn’t have a clue as to who I was, I was as elated as I was furious that he cared enough to look for me, but not enough to come for me himself. He wasn’t touring at that time, after all. But then I remember how I’d blocked him and Asher in a moment of anger and kept it that way until last night all while trying to forget them and the way they had left me alone in the world. I’d had the stupid hope that I’d hear one of their voices for my birthday. Never did I expect to actually hear Creed’s voice with my own ears again, especially in a club like Viper.
“We actually just got back from our European tour tonight. Ri and I were fucking exhausted and ready to sleep for days. But Tony, the asswipe, has endless energy and had called, raving on about this club that was seedy as fuck but apparently the dancers were ‘hot as fuck’—his words.” His words are light with a joking tone, but his eyes dance over my face with a look that causes my face to heat, but he keeps talking as if I’m not at all affected by his words. “T is always finding these questionable places that majority of the time turn out to be just that, questionable and an instant regret that the rest of us back out of. But tonight, something in my brain was nagging relentlessly at me and urged me to go.”
I scrunch my nose at the thought and tilt my head at him, speaking out loud. “But, you had no idea I’d be there.”
“No, I didn’t. But that’s the crazy thing about fate. We have no idea why our instincts urge us to do or not do something, but we blindly follow that trust anyway.” Creed’s eyes bore into mine, his voice dropping to nothing more than a hushed tone. “I’d been searching for you everywhere for so fucking long, Stardust . But fate? That gut instinct? It led me to find you. Right under my own goddamned nose, too apparently. But it happened. Fuckin’ finally,” he mutters the last part under his breath and it makes me chuckle despite the intensity of the conversation.
I watch him closely while he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and hangs his head low between his shoulders for a moment. His throat bobs as he swallows, chest rising and falling with a few deep breaths before lifting his head to continue.. He looks across the room, but his stare is zoned out when he speaks. “I won’t lie to you and tell you I didn’t enjoy kissing the fuck out of you, Collins. Because fuck me, I did. I have been dreaming about what your lips tasted like for two fucking years.” He sighs, keeping his focus straight ahead of him. “I’m sorry I said it was a mistake. If I got a do-over with my words, I’d probably just label it as ‘poorly timed’. Collins, I just got you back. We haven’t even been calm enough to tell your brother that you’re alive and that you’re okay. We’ve been through some roller coaster bullshit tonight and I won’t make it worse by acting on reckless impulse. I’m really fucking trying to keep my crazy side leashed here to do the right thing.”
His icy blue gaze swings to me, and in this moment I see so much emotion in his beautiful, captivating eyes that I see him. Not Creed St. James The Rockstar, not Creed The Playboy, and not Crazy as Fuck Creed. Just the same sweet young Creed who I grew up with. “It’s been a fucking day, for all of us. And I think we need to take a step back, get some much needed sleep, and figure the rest out in the morning.”
I agree with him. I was so upset by his rejection, but after hearing what he had to say, I know he’s absolutely right. My feelings and long-term feelings for him aside, we acted on an impulse when a chaos of emotions were already running rampant through our minds. It still fucking stings now that I’ve finally had a taste, but I agree that we need to take a few steps back. I’m about to nod in agreeance when the last thing he said finally registers in my brain.
“Wait, figure the rest of what out tomorrow?”
He stands, offering his hand to me. I take it, standing and stretching my sore limbs. He ignores my question, nodding his head toward the staircase. “Come on. We need sleep.”
“Creed.” I admonish as he gives me his back, making his way up the stairs. “Figure what out?” I call out again.
When I realize he’s not stopping to wait for me, I shuffle around the couch and follow him up the stairs. I have long legs for being on the shorter side, but it takes more energy than I possess to keep up with Creed’s stride. I swear it’s like he grew several more inches even after graduation because he’s fucking massive. Well over six feet, considering my head stops at his shoulder. Walking behind him and not being thrown over his shoulder gives me a delicious view of the back of his body. Even with joggers and a t-shirt stretched across his torso, I can see the muscle definition in his shoulders as well as the tattoos adorning his triceps. A snake tightly coiled around a bleeding dagger on the left, and a classic black and white tattoo of a lighthouse surrounded by clouds and crashing waves on the right.
He stops in front of a door at the end of the hall and pushes it open before looking back at me over his shoulder and tipping his head, gesturing for me to follow him inside. “You can crash in here.” The moment I step inside I’m immediately wrapped up in the scent that is all Creed. This must be his room.
The walls are a dark charcoal gray with a dark oak modern bed on the left and a vintage matching armoire on the right of the room. The ceilings are tall and there’s a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows on the adjacent wall to the bed. Even with the dark walls and furniture, the space feels large, but homey.
I turn to him, confused. “I’m not taking your room, Creed.”
“This house may be big, but it’s surprisingly only got four bedrooms. Riley and I converted one into a mini recording studio and writing space, and the other is somewhat of a cluttered storage room. So unless you want to sleep in Riley’s room where he’s an absolute bed hog,” he huffs a laugh when I raise a single brow at him, wondering how he would possibly know this. He smiles a cheeky grin that’s entirely too sexy as he explains, “Charleston 2021, before we all had separate buses, the one I shared with Ri broke down and we had to get a motel room for the night. We thought we got a room with two beds but walked into the pleasant surprise of one damn bed in the room and when he passed out, he sprawled out so wide I ended up sleeping in a very questionably stained recliner all night.”
I can’t stop the giggle that turns into a full blown laugh at the imagery of Riley kicking Creed out of the bed. When my laughter dies down, I look up to see Creed watching me with a twinkle in his eyes, a lightness there that has replaced the heaviness that overtook them earlier. It fills my heart with some relief.
He clears his throat and rubs at the back of his neck, almost nervously. “So, yeah, that pretty much leaves this room as the only option for sleep tonight. ”
“Creed, no.” I rub my forehead before letting my hand flop down against my thigh, ready to just end this fucking day. “I just need a pillow and a sheet and I’ll sleep on your couch.”
“Fuck that.” He counters. “You’re not sleeping on my couch, Collins. Get in the damn bed.”
“It’s one night. I’ll be f?—”
“You’re not sleeping on the damn couch. Besides, it’s not even comfortable.” He argues, crossing his arms and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on his face and not drag down to where his t-shirt is stretched taut across his sculpted, tatted chest.
“Trust me, it’s better than where I sleep every night.” The words spill out before I can stop them and immediately slap my hand over my mouth shut and slowly close my eyes because I know, I fucking know that was the wrong thing to say.
“Where the fuck are you sleeping every night,” His voice is low, and the way he says it doesn’t sound like a question, but more of a command for an answer. Slowly, I open my eyes again and see that Creed has gone stock still, his angular jaw ticking each time he clenches it.
No answer I could give him would bring him any peace of mind, so I shrug, acting as nonchalant as I don’t feel and just aim for the truth. “Being an exotic dancer in a bottom-shelf club doesn’t exactly earn a luxurious salary. I’ve been living in the Casita Motel in north county for about two years. Beds aren’t exactly comfortable and having to shuffle from room to room for maintenance or occupancy, you get some questionable ones.” I huff a laugh, lacking all humor but trying to ease some of the heaviness of the admission I’ve just made. But it misses the mark as Creed looks at me with such a crazed expression that it makes me swallow nervously.
I open my mouth but snap it shut again when he closes the distance between us and envelopes me in his arms, hugging me to his chest tightly. I stiffen for just a moment, being caught by surprise, before melting into him and hugging him back. I inhale the scent that is still so familiar even after all these years. “God, Stardust .” He says, the words muffled into my hair on top of my head. “Take the damn bed.” He says, sounding like more of a command and steps away from me and closer to his bed to grab a pillow from one side. My brow furrows in confusion. “The room is all yours. I’ll either crash on the couch or make Riley scoot his skinny ass over and sleep in his room.” He smirks at me.
I gape at him. “Did you not just tell me that the couch is uncomfortable and that Riley is a bed hog?”
“I did.”
“So, why the hell are you leaving to go there? I am not kicking you out of your room, Creed.” I look down and fidget with my hands, picking at the chipping polish, nervously biting my lip. God, I’m twenty fucking years old, you’d think I could have a normal, confident conversation with a grown-ass man. An insanely attractive, devastatingly beautiful man. A man who I may have been in love with my whole life who gave me the best kiss I’ve ever experienced then took it back and saved my feelings by respectfully placing me back in the ‘best friend’s little sister’ friend-zone, but who’s keeping track of details like that?
I raise my eyes and look at him, “We could just share…” I trail off.
“Share,” he parrots back.
I nod. “I-I mean, it’s not like you’d be smashed against me, that bed is fucking huge,” I stammer over my words as I eye the bed. It’s got to be at least an Alaskan king size. Jesus fucking Christ. Why does one man need that much space?
Probably to have enough room for all the women he brings home.
Ah, fuck. I can’t be having these intrusive thoughts.
Creed glances at the bed, then at me, raising a brow as if to say, you sure about that?
I’ve officially had enough of tonight. I’m maxed out on all the drama, all the bullshit, and all the redundant and silent conversations that give me zero answers. I sigh and walk over to what I’m assuming is the ‘guest’ side of the bed and pull the comforter and sheet back, sitting down on the edge. “Look, I can even create a barrier of pillows if that would make you more comfortable. I know tonight we crossed a line and we’re trying to get back to our own respective sides, but we both need a good night’s sleep.”
Creed just stands there for a moment as he watches me take the throw pillows from his bed and create a literal line down the center of his massive bed. I roll my eyes and give him a playful smile. “Come on, you fucking stubborn man. Get in bed and get some sleep.”
“Alright,” he finally relents, but he closes himself in the bathroom first before coming out a few minutes later. Shirtless. Pantless. Wearing not a goddamn thing but a pair of boxers that look like they were fucking made to mold around his delicious ass and his massive?—
I force my eyes back to his face, choosing to skip over his massive dick or the ink displayed on his chest. “I hope you don’t mind. I can’t sleep in clothes, drives me fucking insane when they get caught in the sheets.”
“Nope,” I squeak out. “Not a problem at all. That’s what the barrier is for, right?”
“Right,”
“Okay, well, we’ll talk more in the morning. Goodnight, Creed.” I spit out quickly as I flip over in bed facing away from him so I don’t have to watch the flex of his muscles as he slides into bed next to me.
He chuckles softly, the sound making my heart flutter. “Goodnight, Stardust .”
Silence envelopes the room and before long I hear the deep, even breaths coming from Creed’s side of the bed. I lie there for several minutes just trying to unwind my brain. There’s so much to unpack from what’s happened today and I don’t even know where to begin. I went from waking up in the musty motel room, working just another day at Viper, to being kidnapped by my childhood crush and his housemate, who must feel something for me with the things he said and by the way he kissed me earlier.
I force my eyes to close and try to clear my thoughts of tonight and what awaits me tomorrow .
Fuck. I don’t have any of my money or belongings with me, and I’ll need to get back to my room as soon as possible before my bitch-ass landlord gets in there and steals my shit. Again. I left the club still wearing my wig and costume so I’ll have to return those, but I’m really not looking forward to encountering Tank after the shit show that happened last night.
I rub at the spot where he backhanded me tonight, the spot still tender. Luckily it didn’t bruise, but the emotional scar it left is just another to add to the collection I wear just beneath the surface of my skin.
What divine power did I piss off to get dealt this shitty hand of life?
I flip to my right side, facing Creed. I can’t see him over this ridiculous wall of pillows that I’ve built, but I can feel his presence all the same. I shift closer, draping my arm across the pillow, finally sinking into the most comfortable mattress I’ve ever slept on in my life.
Just starting to drift off, I hear Creed shift and roll before I feel his arm sling across my own, his hand gripping my bicep softly. It startles me and I crack one eye open and look over the pillow wall only to see that he’s still fast asleep.
Every cell in my body is begging me to stay still and take advantage of his unknowing touch, but my mind says that it’s a bad idea to cross those boundaries he’s put in place. I don’t want to push it too far and push him away so soon. So I carefully extract my arm and tuck both hands under my pillow and finally drift off to sleep by counting the petals on the rose tattoo adorning the back of Creed’s right hand.