Risk (Gentry Boys #2)(29)

After a few minutes of trying to catch our breath, Creed kissed my cheek, jumped off the bed and went to the door. He opened it a crack and stuck his head out. When he spoke the words were too low for me to hear but the answering voice was male so he must have been talking to Cord.

He shut the door and turned off the light before returning to bed.

“How many do you have?” he asked abruptly.

“How many what?”

“Sisters.”

“Three. I’m the oldest. Then there’s Meridian, Augusta and Carolina.”

“They don’t live around here?”

“No,” I said quietly. “None of them live anywhere near here. They’ve never been here.”

Creed was quiet. Once again I thought he’d drifted off. Then his voice reached me, strangely sad. “That must be rough. I couldn’t make it so far away from my brothers.”

I was nervous when I reached for his hand. Even though we’d already coupled more times than some married folks did in a year, hand holding seemed more intimate in a way. When his fingers threaded through mine, a thrill rolled through my belly.

“I don’t know my father,” I told him, kissing his knuckles. “I never did.”

He squeezed my hand. “Might not be the worst thing. Sometimes fathers turn out to be evil sons of bitches.” From the tone in his voice I could guess he knew about that firsthand.

A painful thought crossed my mind. I said it out loud. “Sometimes mothers can hurt you too.”

“Yes, they can,” he sighed.

I fell asleep to the feel of Creedence’s hands on me. He ran his palms across my back, then over my hips, cupping my breasts before spreading across my belly. It was strangely soothing and didn’t seem overtly sexual. Just a claim of sweet familiarity.

When Creed was ready, once again, for more than just touching he wasn’t hesitant about taking it. And I was every bit as ready as he was.

The next morning I was already dressed when he woke up. Thankfully, there had been no one else awake when I ventured into the hallway to use the bathroom. I was pulling my shoes on when Creed stirred.

“Where are you going?” he grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Nowhere yet. I wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”

Creed sat up. “Let’s go grab something to eat.” He threw the covers back and opened the bedroom door. He wasn’t wearing a shred of clothing.

“Okay,” I said, staring at his muscled ass as it disappeared into the bathroom. I wondered if he sunbathed in the nude. “I’ll be right here.”

I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at my hands while I waited for him. I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I jumped a little when the door across the hall opened up and Cord emerged.

“Shit,” he swore when he saw me, shutting the door quickly. When he reopened it he was yanking on a pair of boxers. I averted my eyes. Did the Gentry boys have an everyday habit of parading around their apartment naked as f*cking jaybirds?

Cord smiled at me. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” I answered, craning my neck to see if Saylor was right behind him. I didn’t know how weird it would be for her to see me lounging on Creed’s bed.

“She’s still asleep,” Cord said, closing the door behind him. He nodded at the bathroom door. “Big C in there?”

“You call him Big C?”

“Yeah, don’t you?” Then he laughed. “Hell, listen to me. I’m becoming as crude as Chasyn.”

“Is Chase wandering around here naked as well?”

Cord glanced down the hall. “Nah, he’s not home yet.”

The bathroom door opened and there was Creed in all his golden glory. Cord pretended to be offended.

“Cover that shit, Creedence. You know Say freaks when you guys have your junk hanging out.”

Creed scowled at him. “Fuck you, you do it too.”

Cord grinned. “Yeah, but she’s intimately acquainted with mine so it’s okay. You done hogging up the toilet?”

The brothers pushed each other around good-naturedly and then Creed returned to the room. He rooted around in a sagging dresser before finding some boxers and jeans.

“What’s that mean?” I asked, pointing to his chest at the words scripted in black.

Creed looked down. “It’s Latin.”

“Thanks, I already figured that part out. Can you translate?”

He smiled faintly. “Means ‘Yield to no one’.”

That shut me up for a minute as Creed finished dressing. The words bounced around my head.

Concedo nulli.

Yield to no one.

When I first met Creed Gentry I’d figured him to be arrogant, distant, and only interested in women as a form of disposable entertainment. Saylor had briefly described another side of him; a caring brother who was an artist at heart trying to overcome a painful history. He was a difficult man with a dense armor around him. The words on his chest were kind of a mantra, one he might feel the need to repeat to himself daily.

Suddenly I understood him a little more. I knew that mantra. I knew what it felt like to have been so scarred that every touch brings the fear of reopening wounds.

To embrace another person, to yield, was a risk.

“You ready?” he asked me, grabbing his phone and wallet off the floor.