Page 38 of Creed

Or is this a fluke chance meeting?

If it isn’t a fluke chance meeting, does that mean he has gone to great lengths to not only find out who I was, buttrackedme to where I was? Stalked me?

A confusing blend of panic, fear, pleasure, and joy fills me.

“Creed,” I choke.

“Hello, angel.”

He looks down at me with those unique, piercing eyes that have filled my dreams. His attractiveness is devastating. The pull I felt to him that first night is back. I can feel the animalistic energy coming off him.

He is just as I remembered in the memories that haunted my days and dreams.

And the mornings after Ollie had gone to class, when I’d get myself off to the memory of him and what he had done to me. A blush warms my cheeks as I remember masturbating to the memory of us.

After each orgasm, though, an ache filled me at the thought that I’d never see Creed again, and I’d try to convince myself that I didn’twantto see him again.

But I know I was deluding myself. I wanted to see him again,desperately. I wanted him to pull me into his car and whisk me away to his penthouse and screw me mindless again.

I crave the orgasms he had given me and how he made me feel. I crave his touch. But I also crave his smile and laugh and want to learn everything about him.

He had been my distraction for two weeks without even being physically present. Now that he’s standing in front me, in the flesh, for me to see, touch, and smell… Sweet Mother of Mary, I am screwed.

He smiles, his tongue running along his bottom full lip. “Would you like to come with me?” He holds out his hand, his eyes twinkling as I register the double meaning of his words.

My cheeks flush hotter as arousal floods me, but I shake my head.

His thumb rubs the corner of his mouth. I want to feel that mouth against my skin.Everywhere.

“You’re Sophie Demeanus.”

My mouth falls open, and I stumble back.

Oh shit, he really is a stalker.

When he reaches for me, I don’t jerk away. Instead, I let him draw me to him, which confirms that my head is messed up when it comes to him.

“I knew your name most of that evening,” he admits. “When the dean of your school approached us and you took off into the crowd, I asked him.”

I groan inwardly at my stupidity, but his answer surprises me. “You asked about me?”

He tilts his head to the side, watching me. “From the moment I saw you, I wanted to know every little thing about you.”

My chest tightens, and my knees weaken. I basically swoon for this man in the middle of a busy city sidewalk, oblivious to the world that still buzzes around us.

But my mind warns me that this is too good to be true, and that I can’t forget my goals and plan.

The wind picks up my hair, and he smooths it back and cups my face. “I missed you, angel. I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to see you until today.”

I shake my head, the last bit of self-preservation trying to dislodge his touch because his touch is causing my brain to malfunction. “We weren’t supposed to… It was just one night.”

I wet my lips because my mouth feels devoid of all moisture—probably because it’s all pooled between my legs.

His thumb drags over my bottom lip. “You and I both know it could never be just one night.”

Between my legs throbs, and I can tell I’m wet. My skin sizzles. My brain is muddled, and stepping away to break contact with him, helps me think more clearly… Slightly.

“How are you here?” I ask, this time with more of a demand.

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