Page 62 of Filthy Little Games

He considers Dre, Tristan, and Lorenzo to be loyal enough to never doubt, but probably not many others.

For some reason, I want to be one of the few people Creed cares for and believes in.

Stroking my fingers through his hair, I tell him, “How about we call it a night and go lay down? You can sleep cozied up to my ass you dreamed about all night.”

“Not sure if I could do that and resist you, even though it sounds fucking amazing.”

He’s basically saying he doesn’t think we can cuddle without having sex. And while I could say to hell with it and let him inside me, I like where things stand right now — with me getting all the orgasms and him aching, demanding nothing for himself from me. I’ve never been on this side of the fence before, and I like it.

“Then how about you tuck me into my bed, and we both get some sleep?” I suggest.

His fingers slide down the side of my face until his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. “I’ll tuck you in, but first, have you had enough to eat today?”

“Yes. Your refrigerator is full of food.”

“Good. Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow. I’ll have my chef cook for us.”

“Deal,” I agree. “What else do I have to do in the morning or during the day?”

Taking my hand, he leads me down the hall to the bedroom where he even throws back the covers for me to climb into the giant bed.

“Thanks for tonight,” he says as I settle in.

Does he mean… Wow. I should be the one thanking him.

Creed grabs one of his fresh white tees from the closet and offers it to me. “Get some sleep. I’ll join you shortly.” He places another kiss on my forehead, and then he just walks out, leaving me sitting there in his bed alone.

I’m puzzled because I shouldn’t want to spend more time here with Creed. That wasn’t part of our deal when I agreed to marry him. But he makes me feel…safe, as crazy as that sounds.

And I’m baffled but hopeful that one of these days, after he licks me so good, he’ll drag me to his bed and finally have his way with me.

20

Creed

For the fifth time today, I pull out Zara’s phone and read the text from “Even Bigger Piece of Shit.” The one that came in the night after the dinner at the Rovinas and says:WHERE’S MY SON? I’m going to find you and make you regret this, you stupid little slut.

It didn’t take but a few seconds to confirm that the number was, of course, Emilio texting Zara. The way he insults her infuriates me. While I may not know my wife well, I do know that she is not stupid or a slut.

And I haven’t told her that Emilio suspects her and is searching for her. There’s no need to worry her.

She’ll never need to know she’s in danger or be afraid of what he’ll do to her daughter because I’m going to get Zara’s daughter back to her safe and sound as soon as possible.

It’s an idea that I’ve been chewing on ever since she told meabout Oriana, but now I’m ready to make it happen. Which leads me to the second part of that plan that I’m fucking dreading. One I’ve tried to figure out a better option but can’t.

Once Zara has her daughter back, I’m going to have to send them both as far away from New York City as possible.

I don’t like it. In fact, I fucking hate the thought of being away from her for even a few hours a day. But I don’t see any other choice.

Taking out Emilio is not something I can make happen overnight without serious casualties in my own family. And as long as he suspects Zara of having something to do with Izaiah’s disappearance, she’s not safe in this city or even this country.

When he finds out her daughter has been taken, I’m certain he’ll ramp up those efforts to find her.

Which means I need to get them both out of the country and I need to do it fast.

The fact that I’m not spending every waking minute trying to find the girl makes me feel like an asshole.

But I like having Zara in my penthouse, in my bed, having meals with her, and making meals out of her. I think I could stay between her legs forever.

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