Page 86 of Creed

We walk along the upstairs hallway until Creed stops us at a dark brown wooden door. He stares at me, gently pushing my hair back from my face. Without a word, his hands settle at the base of my neck, his thumbs brushing the soft hollow at its center. He’s strong—his hands could tighten and easily overpower me—but there's no fear in me. Only trust. Only safety with him.

His blue eyes aren’t soft and gentle, though. They're hard right now. His dominant side is coming out, and the thought makes me shiver.

When we walk through that door, I know before we exit out of it again later—hopefullymuchlater—he’ll have worshipped andrevered me. However, as certain as I am of that, I know we have something to address before then.

I left him. Pushed him away. Pushed us away. I may not have destroyed us, but I had broken us.

I shiver again. Not in fear, never in fear with him. I shiver with anticipation, with want, with need. For him, as well as how he’ll decide to punish me. I know he won’t punish me in a bad way, but in a way that reminds me who I am, who he is, and who and what we are together. And to never turn my back on that ever again.

“Don’t hold back,” I whisper, my gaze holding his.

His hands tighten around my neck, and his eyes darken. One thumb skates up my throat to my mouth. Dragging his thumb over my bottom lip, his eyes lower to watch the flesh pull and relax as he plays with it.

“You’ll take all of me? Everything I give you? Everything I ask of you?”

“Yes.” I trust him implicitly and completely. He can be domineering in bed; however, I never felt I needed a safe word. It’s as if he instinctively knows my hard limits—maybe because they’re his, too. It’s yet another sign of how he’s made for me, and I’m made for him.

“Youwanteverything I give you? Everything I need to do to you?”

“Yes.”

God, yes.

He gives me one last hard look, studying and reading my face. Then he opens the door and jerks his chin for me to enter. Once I'm inside I stop while he closes the door. Hearing the lock click into place rakes a shiver down my spine.

The room is decorated in deep and rich tones. Unlike his penthouse in San Diego, which is cool and modern, this room feels warm and welcoming. Thick strips of jade alternating with dark terracotta cover the wall. A black four-poster bed stands on a step-up platform, the comforter resting atop a lighter jade color than the walls. A chair sits in the corner, as well as one beside the reading bench of the window.

Feeling Creed's intense eyes on me, I turn. He stands beside the door, not moving toward me.

Uncertainty and inexperience make my insecurities rush forth. I clasp and unclasp my hands, unsure of what to do next.

“What do you need, angel?” he asks, even though seconds ago, he asked if I’d take everything he’d give me and do what he asked of me. He reads me like an open book and ensures that I know I’m the center of his universe.

I remember the first time I was with him and his words:Never hold back from me. Never be shy about what you want or need.

I don’t want to hold back or be shy about what I want or need. But the chasm is still between us, and I don’t know how to bridge it.

“I don’t know what to do," I say with complete honesty. "I don’t know what you need or want me to do.”

“But you know what you want, what you need?”

I nod, biting my lip. “You.”

“That’s it?” His eyes flick down to my lip, drawing my attention to the fact that I’m gnawing on it, and I stop.

“I want and need you, Creed. All of you. I want and need us.” My voice cracks.

His strong, inked hands undo his suit jacket. I ache to be the one to undress him, to claim the pleasure and reward of slowly uncovering every perfect inch of his solid, sculpted body. To touch his heated skin, feel it under my palms. To lick and taste him, to kiss him. To fall to my knees and suck him deep into my throat and worship him.

But my choice and what I put us through these past months stand between us. He needs retribution for that, atonement for that sin—Ineed that as much as he does—before he worships me.

Right now, the gentle man who views me as his treasure is dormant, and the dominant one takes center stage. And God help me, I love and want them both. One wraps me in thesweetest, safest love, and the other lets me fly, unrestrained, pure, and wild.

He shrugs out of his jacket. “I’ll take control, angel.”

His words nearly make me collapse with relief. I feel an undeniable need to yield to him and his commands.

“Stay where you are,” he orders, then walks to the chair in the corner. Sitting in it, he relaxes back and spreads his legs wide like an arrogant king. “On your hands and knees, Sophie.” I comply without thinking, and my pussy clenches so tightly when he growls. “Crawl to me.”

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