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“I just want to make sure he’s okay. Truth be told, Adam gave Jameson a weird look when I first introduced them.” I lean closer. “He may have mentioned something to Creed about never seeing us together during all his time as my CPO.”
It shouldn’t be this easy to lie to my friends, but it is a good cover story for why I need to put on my big girl panties and talk to Creed.
We’re both here for the next ten days. I don’t want every day to be like this. Don’t want the tension to become so awkward everyone else picks up on it.
Including my brother.
“I just…” I push out a breath. “I want to make sure he understands that, even though this thing with Jameson may not have been my decision, we still have to keep up appearances. No one’s supposed to know the truth.” I grit out a smile, smoothing a hand down my coverup. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Enjoy your ‘talk’,” Marius retorts with a snicker.
I roll my eyes, then turn, making my way through the living room, champagne and beer now being consumed as if it’s the last days before prohibition. My flip-flops echo against the marble tile in the foyer before I ascend the elaborate staircase to the second floor, the décor all crisp whites against bamboo accents, natural light filling the space.
I’m not sure which room Creed chose, but I suspect it’s the same one he always stayed in during our teenage years.
Which will only make things even more awkward, considering Jameson and I are in the suite right next to him.
When I’d invited Jameson to join me on this beach holiday to appease the ‘establishment’, it didn’t even dawn on me that he’d expect to share a room. After realizing I didn’t have the same expectations, he offered to stay in a separate room. But most normal couples share a room when they go away together. Once we’re married, we’ll be expected to live together. I may as well get used to sharing my space with him now.
The notion was much easier before I realized Creed would be sleeping in the room right next to mine.
Pausing in front of his door, I inhale a calming breath, taking a moment to collect my thoughts. Then I raise my hand and knock, listening for any movement.
After several seconds pass and I don’t hear anything, I say, “Creed. It’s me. Esme. I just… I wanted to talk to you.”
I rest my ear against the door, but it’s still silent, the only sounds coming from the frivolity downstairs.
It’s possible Creed chose a different room, having no desire to sleep in the room next to mine. But I sense he’s in this one. That he’s simply ignoring me in the hopes of avoiding me as much as possible.
I don’t want that. Want to have some semblance of normalcy between us, regardless of how difficult that may be.
My hand on the knob, I give it a twist, expecting it to be locked. To my surprise, it’s not. When I steal a glimpse inside, I spy Creed’s duffel bag on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. The sliding glass door on the far side of the room is open, the sheer curtains blowing in the ocean breeze.
Figuring he must be drinking his beer on the balcony, I slip inside and close the door behind me before making my way across the room. But as I’m about to step outside, a familiar voice calls my name from elsewhere within the suite.
And it’s not just a familiar voice.
It’s a familiar moan.
And he’s moaning my name, the sound strained. Desperate.
Wanton.
Pausing, I slowly turn, gaze falling on the bathroom door that’s slightly ajar. I don’t immediately move toward it. Instead, all I can do is stare, my heart thrashing in my chest at what I suspect Creed’s doing in there.
All the more reason I should walk away and pretend I never heard his guttural moan.
The same one I’ve heard in my dreams every night since he took my virginity. Since he showed me more pleasure than I thought possible.
The same one I’ve replayed in my mind whenever I’ve touched myself, struggling to recreate the high I experienced when Creed fucked me.
When he moans my name again, this time even more needy, I can’t help myself. It’s like a siren’s call, beckoning me to the depths, even though there’s nothing but danger within.
I carefully pad across the room, pausing outside the bathroom before I peek inside. As my gaze lands on Creed Lawson in the shower, all the air rushes from my lungs.
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him naked. A week ago, I was lucky enough to feel his flesh on mine.
But as my eyes feast on the water cascading down his distinguished face and along his sculpted body, licking every ridge and valley while he strokes himself, his head thrown back, a look of ecstasy on his face, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so hypnotizing. So mesmerizing.
