Page 11 of Creed

“That you’re an old man?” I arch a brow, making a show of apprising him. “I guess I shouldn’t discriminate based on that. Wouldn’t want to be accused of ageism, now, would I?”

He laughs, and I want nothing more in the world than to hear that sound again. Preferably with me pressed close to him because I know the sound will rumble through that muscular, hard body.

When he tries to go inside again, I resist. “I can’t—”

“You said you’d trust me. So, trust me.”

Then he pulls us inside the dark and busy pub. The bouncer looks at me, about to ask for ID, but Sir Hotness steps up to him. I watch as the bouncer seems to recognize him and steps back without a word, nodding at me as we walk in.

What the actual hell?

He holds my hand as he weaves us through the crowd, and I don’t hate the possessive feel of it. In fact, I love it.

What is happening to my head?

He stops at a table with a guy as large as him, who has two women almost in his lap.

The guy’s brown hair is smoothed back, and his dark blue eyes are glassy but filled with laughter. “Told you I’d be tits-deep when you were done.”

“I see you didn’t follow the ‘don’t be shitfaced when I’m done.’”

The guy scoffs. “You’ve seen me shitfaced, and this ain’t it.” He inclines his head. “You joining or what?”

The two women aren’t hiding that they want to devourmySir Hotness. Jealousy rears its head—something I’ve never felt before—and I step into their line of sight from being slightly tucked behind. Their eyes narrow into slits, seeing our joined hands. The guy’s eyes fall to our clasped hands and widen as he chokes on his drink. He pushes away from the two women and gets up from the table, eyeing me with wonder while wiping his slack-jawed mouth.

I regret wearing a skirt suit right now. It isn’t my style, and I’m sure I look like a little girl trying to play dress-up in her mother’s professional work clothes. I hold my chin high with a quiet confidence I don’t quite feel.

The guy looks so shocked by our clasped hands, it's almost comical. “Holy fuck, Creed."

Creed?

Between my legs clenches.

Did I really just have a horny reaction to a guy’s name?

“You never hold hands in public.” The guy grins from ear-to-ear looking at me but speaking to Creed, “Holy fuck. You found your Minnie.”

“What?” I laugh, and Creed’s hand on mine tightens.

“The cufflinks… Mickie Mouse.” The guy points, then bops me on the nose. “Minnie. And you’re mini and adorable as fuck.”

The women are full-out scowling at me now.

Sir Hotness… AKA Creed… lifts our clasped hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles, his eyes holding mine. “I call her angel.” He smiles in response to my sucked-in breath. “Angel meet Andro.”

Andro bows, making me laugh again, and winks at me. “I don’t think I’ll get away with calling you angel, so we’ll keep with Minnie.”

A pang of sadness hits me. I’m only giving myself this one night.

Creed… Sir Hotness… Whatever his name is, he’s too much. Too everything. I can’t get lost in him.

My instincts are telling me that if I allow myself to have anything more, then my life will be forever altered.

I can’t have my plan, purpose, and goal derailed. I came here to focus on school and prepare for my future to help my family. They come first, not some lustful—and most definitely sinful—whirlwind of sex. The vibes rolling off Creed warn me he’s a hazard to my focus. The heat and pull between us would consume me; it’s just too intense.

But one night can’t hurt. He doesn’t know my name, and I only know his first.

After tonight, I’ll slip away. I’ll move on with my plan for school, knowing my anonymity will serve me well. But for tonight, I’ll enjoy what it, and this magnificent man, has to offer.

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