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But this was never supposed to be about romance or devotion.
And it certainly was never supposed to be about love.
I don’t have a chance to voice my concerns before Creed’s lips are back on mine, his kiss hitting me differently in this space.
In this moment.
For the first time, there’s no risk of someone walking in and cutting things short. Instead, we can take our time.
And that’s precisely what Creed does.
He takes his time kissing me.
Undressing me.
Lowering me onto the bed.
Exploring every inch of my body, like a man mapping out uncharted territory, venturing somewhere he’s never dared travel before.
As much as I know I shouldn’t, I can’t help but follow Creed down this path, succumbing to his sensual touch.
“Please, Creed,” I beg as he hovers over me, his tongue teasing my nipple with slow and languid licks. Heat courses through me, more powerful and fierce than any other time he’s done this same thing.
“What do you need, Esme?” he asks in a low voice that oozes sex and seduction.
“You, Creed. Need you inside me.” I grip his face, forcing his mouth within a breath of mine. “Need you to fuck me.”
Normally, those are the only words he needs before slamming into me, giving me what I crave.
But nothing about tonight is how things typically are between us, everything infinitely more charged.
“I’m not going to fuck you, Esme.” He presses a soft kiss to my lips before pulling away, a look of peace washing over his face. Dark eyes stare back as he runs a soft finger along my cheek. “I’m going to make love to you.”
I swallow hard, his statement ringing in the air around us.
I should remind him of the promise he made when we agreed to this arrangement. Tell him this was only supposed to be about sex. That if I allow him to make love to me, it’ll give him hope this could be real.
It’ll give me hope, too.
But despite all of this, I can’t resist the desperation in his gaze as he waits for my response.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I run my fingers through his hair, lips touching his. “Please, Creed. Make love to me.”
The instant those words leave me, tension rolls off him, his body momentarily relaxing. He covers my mouth as he eases inside me, a whimper falling from my throat with the fullness consuming me.
There’s no relentless pounding. No harsh slaps or punishing bites. Instead, he draws everything out as he rocks his hips into me, each deep and penetrating invasion pushing my body higher than it’s been before.
He grabs my hands in his, our fingers intertwining as he pins them on either side of my head. Not being able to touch him only serves to increase the pleasure coursing through me.
The emotion in his stare and the sensuality in his movements is so big, so sharp, it’s almost too much to bear. I try to stay in the moment, try to keep my eyes locked on his, but I can’t, worried what he’ll see. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting to block out the myriad of thoughts swirling in my mind.
Wanting to block out the truth I see in his own dark orbs.
“Look at me, Esme,” he demands. But it’s not as gruff and wanton as is normally the case when we have sex.
It’s softer. More like a plea. Because tonight, this is so much more than sex.
And not just for him.
