Creed (Unfinished Hero #2)(49)

He held it toward me.

“That was the one I didn’t get to give to you by the lake on your eighteenth birthday.”

I started shivering. My hand lifting up like it had a mind of its own, Creed draped the necklace over it, gem to my palm before he went back to pawing through the boxes.

He found one, opened it, yanked out another necklace.

“This one I bought for your next birthday,” he muttered and draped it, gem to my palm, over my still raised hand.

The tears hit my eyes.

Creed went back to pawing, found a box and tugged out another necklace.

“This one was when you turned twenty,” he whispered.

Wet slid down my cheeks.

Back to the boxes again, again, until the necklaces draped over my hand numbered fifteen.

When he was done, his hand curled around mine, palm to palm, his fingers curved around the chains and he leaned deep, his lips at my ear.

“You were gone but I had more than the tat, Sylvie. I didn’t get it then but I get it now. They never f**kin’ took you away from me.”

My breath hitched and my voice trembled as I told him, “I have the others.”

“I know.”

“They took you away from me.”

His hand squeezed mine, the pendants and chains digging into my skin.

“I’m back, baby.”

At his words and all they meant to me, nearly sixteen years of wanting just that, despairing I’d never have it, I lurched out of the couch, my free arm hooking around his neck. I barely got it positioned before I fell right back, pulling him down on me and into the couch.

Boxes went flying. His fingers scraped through the chains, gathering them. He lifted up and tossed them across our bodies toward the coffee table and he came back to me.

His mouth coming down, mine going up, we collided, lips opening, tongues out tangling. We kissed as his fingers curled into my panties at the sides. He tugged them down then tore his mouth from mine and moved away, yanking them off. His hands came to my hips, jerking them sideways, he got on his knees on the floor, pressed open my legs, his hands shoved under, fingers digging in my ass, he pulled me up as he went down and his mouth was on me.

My neck arched, my fingers slid into his hair, I pushed down as he pulled up and feasted on me.

Breathing hard, it came fast, it was going to consume me so I lifted my head and urgently whispered, “Creed.”

His head came up and he muttered, “Two seconds, Sylvie, condoms in the other room.”

I pulled myself up, my hands reaching for his fly. “Fuck it.”

“Sylvie.”

My head dipped back as I undid buttons and my eyes found his. “I need you, baby.”

He shoved my hands aside and took over for me. I tugged his jeans down over his h*ps even as he got up and put a knee into the couch. I spread my legs, he fell forward on his forearms beside me and thrust deep.

My mouth opened on a silent moan and I shoved it in his neck, my tongue coming out, tasting him there. I circled him and held tight with everything I had available to me.

“Baby, mouth.”

That was Creed. I dropped my head back, Creed’s mouth came to mine and he drove deep with his c**k and his tongue.

My arms moved from around him, found his, trailed down and pulled hard so his weight hit me.

His head came up.

I laced my fingers in his and pulled both our arms over my head, twisting our hands so mine were to the cushions.

He ground deep with his c**k and growled, “Fuck, baby.”

“Take me.”

“Fuck. Baby.”

It was guttural.

It was beautiful.

Creed pressed my hands into the cushions, his forearms pressed too, beside mine. He took his weight off me, angling his body up, his h*ps still driving deep. I watched his shadowed head drop and he looked down the length of our bodies in order to watch as he f**ked me.

My legs left him, I brought my knees high and his pounding went deep.

My moan sounded more like a cry and his eyes shot to my face.

“I love you, Sylvie,” he grunted, driving hard, fast.

“Baby,” I gasped. It was coming over me.

He dropped down, holding me still pinned to the couch, his lips sliding along my cheek to my ear.

“Born to love you, Sylvie.”

I rocked my h*ps back to meet each thrust and panted, my fingers squeezing his holding mine down to the cushions.

“Born to love you, baby,” he repeated. “Die lovin’ you, my Sylvie.”

My neck arched, my pu**y clenched, my cl*t spasmed, my thighs pressed tight to his sides, his mouth went to my throat and I cried out his name as I came with Tucker Creed still drilling deep inside me.

Oh yeah.

Fuck yeah.

He was right.

We win.

Chapter Twelve

Wishing Away the Years

A late, cool, autumn night in Kentucky, eighteen years earlier, Creed is twenty-one, Sylvie is sixteen…

The house was silent as I walked through it in the dark. Daddy was away on business. The stepmonster was visiting her sister in Atlanta.

I was coming home from a date.

I opened the door to my bedroom and the minute I did, the light came on.

I let out a little scream and, when my eyes adjusted, I stared.

Creed was lounging on my bed, back to the headboard, long legs straight, booted feet crossed at the ankles.