Page 48 of Creed

“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.

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