Chapter 32
Creed
Blood beads at my knuckles. I wish it were for something other than obsessive scab picking, but it isn’t.
I’m doing this shit on purpose, tearing every scrape and wound open while I hiss under my breath. It’s fucking idiotic. Pathetic. It proves how desperate I am to keep Millie’s attention on me instead of Noah tonight.
I lean back against the headboard, flexing my hand to make sure the skin doesn’t start closing. The pain’s mild, but it helps settle my nerves. My jaw tightens and I drag my bleeding knuckles across my mouth, tasting iron.
She hasn’t replied to my question, and I successfully kept myself from pleading with her to come over and talk.
I focus back on the job at hand, peeling off another scab. Millie fussed over me after the fight, her soft fingers steady as she disinfected every little cut.
I’m used to scraped knuckles. I barely consider them an injury and not one worth her care, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t revel in how she treated every tear like it mattered.
Like I mattered.
I want that again. That and her attention on me instead of Noah, so I tear the largest scab right off, biting my cheek when the sting shoots up my hand. It’ll scar if I don’t stop messing with it, and fuck knows I have enough scars already.
One more won’t make a difference.
At least on the outside.
A knock on the door pulls me out of my head. My pulse kicks up immediately, a fit of shivers rushing down my arms.
The soft rap gives away who’s standing on the other side. I cross the room, yanking the door open, and there she is, dressed in a baby-blue sweater and black fitted jeans.
Her blonde hair frames her face, lips in a thin line, anger glinting in those striking eyes. The orange glow from my room illuminates her frame, giving her an otherworldly look.
God, she’s so fucking beautiful it should be illegal.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, holding the door open wider.
She enters, her lips part, but words don’t come.
Fuck, we’re back here again? Every time she swallows whatever she wants to say, I feel it choking me. She takes a step forward, pulse thrumming on her neck, and the air moves, sending a whiff of her right into my nose.
Now this... this is what I’m definitely addicted to.
She brushes into my room, and just when I think she’ll rise on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear or kiss me, she shoves me back a step, and her hand lands on my cheek. The clap rings in my ears, my head whips to the side, skin burning.
Yeah... I deserved that.
I scramble for something to say. A plausible explanation for the question I texted, but before anything springs to mind, she’s on me, those perfect, heart-shaped lips pressing against mine.
My heart soars, drumming rapidly against my ribs and kicking me into action. The initial shock morphs and twists, desire slamming into me with the force of an H-bomb.
I grab her waist, the other hand on the back of her head and I pull her in, taking over before she can pull away, change her mind, or remember she’s supposed to be scared of me.
That’s what I wanted to talk about. Not Noah.
Her lips part beneath mine, soft and desperate, and I slide my tongue into her mouth, groaning at the taste of her. I dig my fingers into her waist, checking that I’m not dreaming.
She comes in, slaps me, then kisses me, so I’m allowed to feel a little disoriented, but she’s real. Warm, so fucking perfect.
Untangling my fingers from her hair, I push her against the door, devouring that sweet mouth, my hands mapping her waist, ribs, back... I’ll never get enough of her.
She clings to me, her fingers bunching my hoodie, her hot breath uneven against my mouth, and my head’s spinning.
I gather enough restraint to break the kiss, though.
“I didn’t fuck him,” she snaps, pulling me in again.
“Wait, baby. This is important.” Grabbing her chin, I hold her in place. “At the gym, I asked you what you were scared of, and you didn’t answer. Every assumption I’ve made makes no sense now, so help me out here. What is it?”
Her fingers tighten in my hoodie, those hazel-blues searching mine as she chews her lip.
“You...” she whispers. “I’m scared because I want you, Eli, and you...” She pauses, gathering her courage. “You want me and then you don’t want me and I never know if you’ll pull me in or push me away. I need to know where I stand.”
My jaw tightens. If certainty is what she needs, then maybe she should’ve gone to Noah.
I’m torn between the need for her and the need to protect her from what I am. I ruin things. I take until there’s nothing left. I knew that long before she ever stood—brave but terrified—in front of me.
She knows that, too... and she didn’t go to Noah.
“I hope you’ve thought this through very carefully.” I drag my thumb over her bottom lip.
Her breath catches, her body leaning into my touch as if that’s answer enough. I move my hand to her throat, spreading my fingers wide, and she exhales softly, eyes searching mine.
This is what she wants.
I was convinced staying away equaled protecting her, but that’s the thing, isn’t it? She didn’t ask for protection, she came for the darkest parts of me, those I pretend don’t exist while marveling whenever they’re let loose.
The parts she dug out after I kept them buried for almost a year. She dug them the fuck out with her presence alone and I spent weeks trying to suffocate them before they ruined her the way they ruin everything else.
“You’re sure you want this?” I ask, tightening my grip around her slender neck. “You want me, Millie Baby?”
She nods, unblinking, and a sick thrill rushes down my spine.
I know it’s temporary, I know she’ll leave, but for now, the monster inside me stops fighting. She’s made her choice and I’m too selfish to stop her.
“You can fucking have me, but while I’m yours...” I say, my mouth dragging along her jaw before I press my thumb beneath her chin and tilt her head back. “I won’t just take your body. I’ll take what you’re hiding behind that silence too.”
I don’t give her time to change her mind.
She should’ve thought about that before she knocked on my door. I lift her into my arms and grasp her jaw and tilt her head so I can kiss her harder.
We’re both panting, breathless, but nowhere near done.
I press her further into the door, one hand under her butt, the other on her cheek, and this time, she bites my lip, then inches away to catch her breath.
“Not yet,” I whisper, latching onto her neck to draw a line of open-mouthed kisses up to her lips. “Not yet.” I suck her lower lip between my teeth, pressing down hard, my cock twitching against the zipper. “Don’t stop.”
She doesn’t bat an eye, doing exactly as she’s told, and a light bulb flickers inside my head.
Dash is expecting us at eight o’clock sharp... but that’s forty minutes away. I can spend them testing a theory.
Adjusting my grip, I yank Millie away from the wall, a tremor passing through me when she wraps her arms around my neck. In three strides, we’re at the foot of my bed and I drop her, watching her bounce off my sheets.
Fuck, she looks perfect here.
I follow her down, bracing on both elbows, one hand at her throat, the other palming her hip through the denim of her jeans. She exhales a shaky breath, melting into the mattress.
I kiss her, sweeping my tongue along the seam of her mouth and she opens, weaving her fingers into the short hairs at the back of my head.
I groan into the kiss, then swallow her soft gasp, the sound stripping me of any inhibition.
Her hips press into mine and I feel the heat of her pussy grinding over my straining cock.
“Don’t move,” I grit out, latching onto her neck.
She stills beneath me, melting into the mattress and fuck...
I thought hard, rough sex was what she needed, but maybe I had this figured out all wrong...
Whenever I remove her autonomy, she calms down in a flash. It happened back when I told her to sit and eat. Then when I told her to punch the bag harder. And several times in between.
It’s control she craves, not pain.
“Arms up,” I bite out.
Again, she doesn’t hesitate, and something darkly dominating unfurls in my chest as I watch her obey. Her sweater rides up, exposing a sliver of bare stomach. I make quick work of pulling it off and tossing it aside.
She’s left in her bra, goosebumps speckling her ribs. The muscles in her abdomen tighten under my gaze. I latch onto her throat, my mouth moving over her skin.
Taking my sweet time, I drag my lips along the line beneath her ear, then lower, drunk on every tremble running through her.
“Eli.” She whacks my chest, wrapping one leg around my waist. “Stop playing.”
I grab her neck, squeezing until her cheeks flush. “No acting out, baby. Behave and do as you’re told. I said don’t move.”
Her eyes widen, desire swimming in those extraordinary pupils. Loosening my hold, I watch her inhale as I reach around, forcing her leg to the mattress.
My cock pulses, trapped and aching against the zipper of my jeans, the friction almost unbearable. I roll my hips forward once, letting her feel exactly what she does to me.
“More,” she breathes, canting her hips. “Please...”
I unhook her bra and her breasts spill out, bouncing lightly, the pink of her nipples my favorite shade. I suck one into my mouth, flicking the candy-hard peak with my tongue, and close my lips, marking her.
A moan rips from her mouth, snapping my patience. I whip myself up, strip the rest of her clothes off, and fall back down, pressing my cock between her legs.
We both gasp at the contact. She’s soaked and acting out again, both hands on my back, nails drawing long lines.
I grab a fistful of her blonde hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. She shudders beneath me and heat fills my insides. The need for her, that clawing fucking desire, takes over. I cuff her wrists with one hand and pin them above her head.
“Stay still or I stop.”
“But—”