Page 45 of Creed

“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.

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