Page 45 of Royal Creed

“I had a long drive.”

“Which you would have avoided if you came on the plane with us. We were here in forty-five minutes.”

I ignore his statement, not wanting to tell him the reason I insisted on driving was because I couldn’t stand the idea of being in such a confined space with Esme and Jameson. It’s bad enough we’re under the same roof. Albeit, it’s a massive, exorbitant roof. But it’s one roof, all the same.

“I just need a few minutes to freshen up and change into my swim shorts. Then I’ll join the festivities.”

“Fine. But here.” He reaches into the refrigerator and pulls out a beer, using the counter to pop off the top. “Take one for the road.”

I grab it from him, and he holds up his bottle.

“To a week we’ll never forget.”

I clink my beer against his. “To a week we’ll never forget.”

Although I have a feeling when this week is over, I’d give anything to forget it.

Chapter Seventeen

Esme

“Creed seems a bit…off,” Marius remarks once Anderson drags Jameson away for a round of billiards with Maggie and the resident bookie, Jasper.

While I’m happy Jameson and my friends are getting along, it’s still leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

After my one night with Creed, I thought I’d feel better about this…arrangement.

I thought it would be easier to see Creed. Thought we’d be able to leave our one night in the past. Pretend it never happened. Go back to the way things were before we had sex.

Instead, every time Jameson kisses me, all I think about is the way Creed kissed me. How my body hummed to life. How my skin yearned for his touch. How my core ached to feel him everywhere.

People have one-night stands all the time and move on. Creed and I should have no problem doing the same.

But I’m starting to realize that what Creed and I shared wasn’t just a one-night stand. It couldn’t be. Not when it was so electrifying.

“What do you mean?” I plaster a smile on my face, feigning ignorance.

“Exactly what I said, Ezzy.” Marius leans closer, dropping his voice so no one can overhear. “I saw the way you guys were all but eye-fucking each other.”

“Not normal eye-fucking, either,” Harriet adds. “It was more like…hate eye-fucking.”

“Hate eye-fucking,” Marius agrees. “And the daggers he shot at Jameson.”

“He’s just protective.” I take a sip from my fresh glass of champagne.

Now that I’m officially feeling the effects of the alcohol, the last thing I should do is drink even more. But it helps diminish the anxiety filling me.

“Protective enough to try to break every finger in the poor bloke’s hand?” Marius arches a brow.

What am I supposed to tell my friends? It’s not that I don’t trust them enough to share what happened. Harriet and Marius are the only two people I do trust with this secret.

But telling them would make it real. Would require me to admit I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Creed since I watched him walk away.

Would require me to admit I nearly ran after him to ask if he wanted to come back the next night, too. And the next. And the next.

“I’ll go talk to him.” I place my flute on a nearby side table, the alcohol emboldening me to do something I know is a bad idea.

“And what do you need to talk to him about?” Harriet playfully nudges me, giving me an over-exaggerated wink.

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