Chapter Five
Addie
I don’t resist. I don’t have it in me. I let him kiss me. I’m helpless to stop him. I don’t want to stop him.
I lose myself in Creed in this moment, to his hot, hungry kiss, a mating of mouths that I cannot deny I’ve longed for. The spicy male scent of him seeming to pour through my body like an aphrodisiac. My hands are all over him, his all over me. It’s wildly exciting and intensely addictive. And there’s simply no fighting it, no understanding it. His hands are in my hair. Teeth nip, lips caress.
The towel disappears, my breasts press against his bare chest, his hands caressing over my body as he picks me up, one hand curving along my backside, the other laced through my hair. My arms wrap around his neck, and my legs around his waist. I cling to him, desperate to feel him close to me, inside me .
Somehow, someway, a semblance of real-life slips into my mind, and my fingers shove into his hair, pulling his mouth from mine. “You left,” I whisper hoarsely. “You left and never said a word.”
Our eyes collide much as our passion has—wild and emotional.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve ached to feel you like this again,” he confesses, his voice low and guttural. “How many times I was hard just thinking about it.”
It's not an answer, but somehow, it’s the only right thing in this moment. I quake with his words, shaken by the magnitude of the passion in them, though this solves nothing, explains nothing. But my body doesn’t care; my body simply wants and needs. Don’t ask a question you don’t want the answer to , my mother used to say. And so, I don’t ask for more.
Not now.
I can’t get enough of Creed. I cling to him. Crave him. Breathe him in even as his mouth slants over mine, punishing, hot, and as dominating as the man. There is nothing gentle about the way he kisses me or the way he claims me. He is raw, animalistic passion that drives away the past and leaves only this moment and then the next.
We go down on the bed, me on my back, his broad, masculine frame commanding mine, his lips traveling my jaw, my neck. He presses my breasts together, lapping at my nipples with his tongue, suckling and licking until my back arches in response. He rolls the stiff peaks with his fingers, tugs and nips to the point of stirring near pain in me, yet it’s so much pleasure. I’m panting, watching him in wonder, stunned that this is really happening. He lifts his head, his eyes finding mine, my breasts still intimately molded to his palms. Time seems to stop as the unanswered questions, the unspoken words, burn between us, a spell of sorts, holding us there and compelling us to deal with more than our physical need.
Abruptly, Creed pushes out of my embrace, standing up and reaching for his jeans.
Emotionally shaken, but no less physically drawn to Creed, I follow him, and I do so with the sense that I need him—I need him desperately, as I have never needed. I don’t like the idea of it being the lifebond—not me, not us—but right now, it doesn’t seem to matter.
By the time I’m on my knees at the end of the mattress, he’s stripped away what little he’d been wearing, his cock jutting forward, thick with readiness. Inhaling a lust-laden breath, I crawl toward him as surely as he reaches for me. He hits the end of the mattress, and my legs press to his, and we come together in a deep, frenzied kiss, one of his hands palming my backside as he picks me up, caressing along the cheek and intimately sliding along the cleft.
Again, I’m wrapping myself around him, my arms draping his neck, his erection at my hip, when the anticipation of having him inside me is almost too much to bear. He reaches between us, his fingers sliding between my thighs and teasing the sensitive flesh.
“Creed,” I pant out, a desperate plea lapping at his name on my tongue.
He maneuvers us back down onto the mattress, side-by-side, facing each other, and thank you, yes, his cock is pressed to the aching V of my body. And now is not the time for slow lovemaking. I don’t want to make love. I want him to fuck me.
He seems to feel the same thing, scooping me into him and guiding the thick head of his erection inside me. “Oh God,” I whisper even as he sinks deep—so very deep—and shifts inside me, and it feels as if a million nerve endings in my body sing with joy.
His mouth is just above my mouth, his hot breath mingling with mine, and for several seconds, we linger there, our bodies joined in the most intimate of ways. I know this man in an unexplainable way, an unnatural way, And I know he feels this, too.
He lowers his mouth to mine, brushing his lips over my lips in a languid motion that defies the urgency between us. And slowly, so slowly, he draws back before thrusting hard and fast. I gasp with the intensity of my body’s reaction, of the deep need it creates in me— he creates in me. A wild rush of passion follows, a frenzied need between us. My hips sway and pump with his.
He rolls me to my back, his muscular legs spreading mine, demanding I open for him. And I do so willingly, eagerly. Against every vow I’ve made since that day in Groom Lake, I offer all of myself to Creed—all of me. I am incapable of telling him no.