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ThanIwant to believe, too.
“Can you stay?” I ask with a subtle tremble.
“Esme,” he exhales, turmoil swirling in his deep, penetrating eyes. I can physically feel his hesitation. His reluctance. His rejection.
Heshouldreject me. Should tell me he’ll check in on me but can’t stay.
“Please. I just… I don’t want to be alone right now, Creed.”
He closes his eyes as he heaves a drawn-out sigh. When he returns his gaze to mine, he parts his lips, but his response seems caught in his throat. Finally, he nods.
“Okay.”
Treating me to a soft smile, he turns from me and heads toward the living room of my suite. Seconds later, he returns with the extra blanket from the closet and drapes it over me before stepping around to the other side of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly as he lays down.
Reaching for the lamp, he turns it off, shrouding us in darkness, the only light coming from the bathroom. He shifts onto his side, facing me so he’s not lying on his wound, then closes his eyes.
Not wanting to fall asleep without something anchoring me to the real world, I extend my arm and grab his hand.
He flings his gaze open, stare fixated on our joined hands. I brace for him to pull away. Remind me of who we are to each other.
He doesn’t, though. Instead, he links his fingers with mine, thumb brushing against my knuckles.
“Sweet dreams, princess.”
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Esme
I fluttermy eyes open what feels like only minutes after falling asleep, but based on the bright light streaming into the hotel room, it’s been much longer. Hours probably. I don’t even remember falling asleep. I didn’t want to. Not because I was worried about more nightmares.
But because I didn’t want to miss a second of feeling Creed’s skin on mine.
Now as I take in my surroundings, there’s no sign of him. His side of the bed is empty, the duvet pulled tight, hiding any indentation. He even fluffed the pillow, making it look like he was never here.
Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe I dreamt him, too.
I grab my mobile off the nightstand to see it’s already after eight. The last thing I want is to leave this bed and face reality, including the media. But I can’t hide forever.
I’m about to slide out of bed and head into the shower when my phone buzzes in my hand. Hope flickers inside me that it’s Creed. Instead, it’s a text from Anders checking to see how I’m doing.
The second he learned what had happened, he was beside himself. I assured him I was fine and would be home today, since the royal household made the decision to cut my trip short. I didn’t argue with them. After yesterday, I welcome the opportunity to deal with this out of the public eye.
I type out a quick response, letting him know I’m a little sore, but otherwise doing well. I consider mentioning my dream to him, but don’t, not wanting to worry him more than he already is. Just as I click send, the door to the bedroom opens, the unexpected intrusion causing me to startle, my heart ricocheting into my throat.
Am I always going to react this way? Jumping at every sudden movement or loud noise?
“Shit. Sorry.” Creed comes to an abrupt stop when he sees my wide, panicked eyes and stiff posture. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I hoped to sneak back in before you woke up.”
Drawing in a deep breath to settle my nerves, I stand and pad across the room toward him. He no longer wears a pair of gray sweatpants. Instead, he’s dressed in his typical attire when on a protection detail — black suit tailored to his tall frame, his pants perfectly creased. His hair is still damp and nowhere near as disheveled as it was last night.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, refusing to allow my eyes to linger on his body.
“Of course. I ran out to get some coffee. And a few French pastries from the bakery around the corner.” He holds up a bag, the aroma of butter and sugar wafting in the air.
My stomach instantly rumbles, begging for food. I can’t remember the last time I ate. Probably yesterday during breakfast. I was too on edge to eat anything substantial for dinner last night.
“Come on, princess,” Creed says with a wink, making his way to the living room, lowering himself onto the couch. He sets the coffees and bag of pastries on the table in front of us. “Let’s eat.”
