Page 92 of Creed

She sits up and hisses at the sting of her ass cheeks “We can do the aftercare right away.” She takes her shirt off and undoes her bra. I remove the tattered remains of her panties, then lay us down, pulling her into my arms.

Flesh to flesh has never felt so good or right.

“How can I love you so much, Creed?” she whispers, pulling her head back to look at me.

“I was destined for you, and you were born for me.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

“I’ve never believed anything more. A decree from heaven… written in the stars… Whatever it is, it was meant to be.”

“We’ll figure this all out?” Her eyes dart between mine, and she catches her bottom lip between her teeth. “My family… Whatever this is with my father and Morales?”

“We’ll figure this all out.” I gather her closer to my chest again, splaying my hand on her back, the other cupping the back of her neck. “Together. Always together.”

Her soft breath tickles my neck as she sighs, snuggling closer, and says the words that make my soul find complete peace, “I’ll never let you go, Creed Santoro.”

Chapter 28

Ollie

I slip into mydorm room and lean against the door, grinning. Bob may be a nerdy-looking guy, butdayum, he knows how to use that big dick.

Pushing away from the door, I pull out my phone, which has been blowing up, and scan the various group chats and social media messages I’ve gotten. As I read, I sink onto the edge of my bed and frown.

From the gist of all the messages, some big guy on a hog—like ahog; honestly, people really call motorcycles that?—came roaring down one of the campus paths and whisked away a girl. Not only that, but it looked like two other guys were possibly running after the girl.

The thing that has me sitting on the edge of my bed, confused, though, is that a few people messaged, saying they thought the girl might have been Sophie.

But that can’t be right.

A, because I was texting with Sophie close to when people said this happened, and she was leaving for plans to go off the grid this weekend—code for I’m going to get laid all weekend long.

And B, because Sophie is a goodie-two-shoes—I mean, her twelve-year-old cousin, Sylvie, even calls her that. She’s sweet and innocent, and there’s no way she’d be hopping on a 'hog'with a rugged-looking guy. Even if, according to the group chat, the man looked like a freaking god of war who was hot as fuck.

I shake my head, pushing my worry and doubts away, and rise off my bed.

There is no way that was Sophie.

If a guy actually did drive down a campus path on a motorcycle to pick up a girl, I'm sure people are exaggerating the other stuff.

Two men chasing a young woman who was rescued by a hot demi-god on two wheels?

Yeah, this is the perfect makings for a mafia dark romance book—my favorite genre.

Deciding to pack for my weekend before I start to party—otherwise, who knows what I’d end up packing?—I go to my closet and pull out my small suitcase, then toss it on my bed. Going to my dresser, I rifle through my shirts, looking for the black one with the iridescent cat on it, and remembering Sophie had borrowed it.

There’s a bang on my door, and Jaxon yells, “Oll, we’re leaving in ten.”

“Shit. I need fifteen,” I yell back as Jaxon is my ride to the pre-game party.

“Fine, fifteen. But I'm leaving then whether your hot ass is ready or not.”

I hurry across the room to Sophie’s closet, where she keeps her laundry basket and yank open the door. I throw clothes out, looking for my shirt, unsure why I’m so determined to pack it. It’s just a shirt, and it isn’t even clean.

My brain and body freeze, though, as I register what I see in the closet.

Sophie’s suitcase.

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