“It’s not –”

He started moving again, powering fast and deep, his thumb circling my cl*t and my neck arched on a deep moan.

His lips went to my throat and my fingers slid into his hair. “You gotta give this to me,” he demanded, voice thick.

“Creed –”

He went faster, deeper, harder.

Oh God.

My fingers in his hair fisted.

“Baby –” I breathed, it was building and it was going to overwhelm me.

“Give that to me, Sylvie,” he ordered.

“Okay, yes,” I gasped. “You have me. You can have anything.”

“Fuck yeah,” he grunted, his thumb pressing harder, his h*ps driving faster, his mouth took mine. He shoved his free arm under me, wrapped it around my hips, slammed me down as he powered up and I moaned my orgasm down his throat.

Two minutes later, he groaned his down mine.

He took a few moments to recover then rolled us, still connected, so I was on top and he was on his back.

I lifted my head to look down at him before I informed him, “You know, the rulebook states anything agreed through sexual manipulation is thrown out after the act.”

I saw the white flash of his smile before one of his arms snaked around my waist and got tight while his other hand slid into my hair and pulled my face closer to his whereupon he informed me, “Yeah, if you’re makin’ love with a normal guy. If you’re doin’ it with a badass, it’s a totally different rulebook.”

I had to admit, this was true.

“I’m a badass too,” I reminded him.

“You are,” he agreed readily. Something, by the way, I truly believed that he believed. Something, by the way, I totally loved about him. “So, in future, baby, you got that option open to you.”

Good to know as well as something to look forward to when it was my turn to coerce something out of him.

“Right then,” I tipped my head to the side, “maybe you’ll explain exactly what I agreed to.”

His arm around me got tighter, his fingers flexed against my scalp and the white of his smile faded from his face.

“You know, Sylvie,” he whispered.

He was right. I knew. I knew, back in the day, he was acutely aware that I had an in-ground pool, a stable full of horses, a fancy car, a huge house, a housekeeper, all provided to me by my piece of shit Daddy and if I hooked my star to his, at first, he couldn’t give me any of that.

I didn’t care. He was right earlier. That was a trap from which I would move, after he left, to a prison.

But Creed was a man, all man, even back then and he didn’t see it that way. Not then and obviously not now. He never wanted me to feel loss. He never wanted me to have any reason to regret choosing him and no matter how much I talked, how hard I tried to convince him I didn’t need any of that shit, he didn’t believe it. I was young and he was worried following my heart was blinding me to reasonable life considerations an older person would take into account.

He was wrong then.

He was wrong now.

“You know, I’m a different Sylvie,” I stated quietly.

“I know, baby.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know that too.”

Okay, now I was confused.

“Then… what?”

“My house. My furniture. My housecleaner, pool guy, gardener. Your body in my bed,” he replied.

I didn’t get it.

“What?”

“I take care of you,” he answered. “I provide for you.”

Uh-oh.

My body stiffened over his.

“Creed –”

“You work. You earn. You enjoy yourself. You do what you like. You buy me shit if you want. But I provide, Sylvie.”

“That’s crazy,” I told him.

“It’s what you just agreed,” he told me.

“Okay, but it’s crazy.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is,” I shot back. “I’m not seventeen and depending on you, Creed.”

“Right,” his voice was low and leaning toward angry impatience, “I get you. I get we lost that time. I get you’re not seventeen anymore and you can take care of yourself. And I get that maybe to you it’s crazy but what you need to get is it’s what I f**kin’ need.”

He meant that. He needed it.

Oh God, they messed him up. They messed us up. They f**ked everything up even beyond what we already knew.

My voice was softer and my body relaxed into his, my hand coming up to wrap around the side of his neck when I said, “That was a long time ago, babe. I’ve lived. I’ve changed. You have, too. We’re doing this, going forward in life together. I get what you’re saying but we’re both different and we’re different in good ways. We should embrace that.”

“You’re giving up Charlene, the kids, your partner’s family and Knight to be here with me. That’s your part. I take care of the rest.”

“Please don’t do that.”

I said it in a rush, my voice suddenly edged with an anguish I felt coming from deep in my gut, tearing through me, leaving tatters in its wake and I felt Creed’s big body still under mine.

I went on, “My Dad did that to you. My Dad took those years away from us. Yeah, it’s gonna suck, giving up my life in Denver but it’s you. It’s always been you. I’d walk the Sahara to get to you. I’m not lovestruck and acting stupid. I know it’s gonna be hard giving up my life in Denver but I don’t have kids. I don’t live in a house like this. I don’t have roots. I have relationships and if relationships are good, it doesn’t matter where you are in the world, they always stay strong.”

He didn’t listen to the last part and this would be clear when he stated, “You carry no guilt for what those motherfuckers did to me.”

“I know, kind of,” I semi-agreed. “But do you see where I’m coming from?”

Creed rolled, disengaging us, so I was on my back and his body was pressed into my side and partially over me.

“No kind of,” he growled. “That was all Bissenette, what he did to you and what he did to me. These nightmares you’re havin’, don’t let them take hold. You bear no responsibility for what happened to me.”

I felt my body begin to shake and my voice was fragile and so totally not me it felt like it came from some other me when I reminded him, “You wanted to leave that night. I made you –”