“What?” I breathed.
“Dixon is a dick,” he stated.
“Stop saying stuff like that!” I snapped.
He took two steps to me and then rocked to a halt. “He’s too old for you.”
“He’s eighteen.”
“Too old,” he decreed.
“This is crazy!” I hissed. “What’s your problem?”
“That guy, Sylvie,” he shook his head, “not a good guy. Only man richer in the county than his Daddy is your Daddy. He says everywhere he won’t have to work a day in his life and still be rich. And you know what? He’s right. And you know what else? Makes him an asshole dick that he’s down with that.”
I moved away from him, tossed my purse on a chair in the corner and whirled back to him. “I’m not marrying him, Creed, we’ve only had one date.”
“Don’t let there be another one.”
I planted my hands on my hips again and shot back, “Not for you to say.”
“Every girl he dates is easy, hopin’ for access to the pool and the horse stables and the rides in his sports car. You already got that shit, Sylvie, you don’t need him to give it to you.”
“I’m not dating him because he’s rich, Creed. I’m dating him because he’s cute.”
“And you datin’ him says somethin’ about you, not him, and it’s not good. So stop doin’ it.”
I threw out a hand asking, “You know what?” Then I didn’t wait for him to answer and went on, “You’re being a dick. This is none of your business!”
“You’re my business, Sylvie.”
“No, I’m not. Or at least this part of me isn’t,” I retorted and he leaned into me, his handsome face twisting in a strange way.
“Yeah, you are. All of you. You’re my Sylvie.”
I sucked in a breath and held it even as I felt every inch of my skin tingle.
He leaned back, scowling at me then he looked away.
Tearing a hand through his hair, he muttered, “Jacked. Even sick. Totally fuckin’ illegal.”
“What?” I whispered and his eyes cut back to me.
“Do not go on another date with Jason Dixon.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because it means something to me.”
I pulled in another breath and looked away.
“Sylvie,” he called and I looked back. “Promise me.”
I clenched my teeth. Then I nodded.
“Is that a promise?” he pushed.
“Yeah,” I bit out.
He stared at me and I stared back.
We did this a long time.
He broke the silence.
“Dad would be pissed.”
“About what?” I asked.
His striking blue eyes moved the length of me and my skin started tingling again.
Then they locked on mine.
“He’d be pissed at me… wishing away the years.”
With that, he left, slamming the door behind him.
I stared at the door and realized I was breathing heavily.
Then I closed my eyes tight wondering what on earth all that was about.
I opened them and forced myself to get ready for bed.
But I did not sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Issues with My Man Being a Badass
Present day…
I walked into the bedroom and saw Creed in my bed, up on a forearm looking both pissed and sleepy.
Oh, and hot.
“Where the fuck you been?” he growled and I stopped dead. When I didn’t answer, just kept staring at him, he went on, “Baby, get this, woke up without you for sixteen years. Got you back for good yesterday. Don’t wanna do that shit again. You get up, you wake me. Even if it’s just to kiss me and tell me you’re leavin’ our bed. You with me?”
I kept staring at him.
“Sylvie,” he continued growling. “Are you with me?”
I took off running and, close to the bed, took a flying leap, arms wide and landed flat on top of him.
He grunted and so did I. His hands had curled around my waist while I was on the downward plunge and his fingers dug in as I lifted my head to look down at him.
“Morning!” I chirped and he started grinning but stopped when his eyes dropped to my throat and I felt his entire body go stone-still.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
“Love them,” I told him.
His eyes came back to mine and they were agonized.
“Fuck,” he repeated in a whisper.
I ignored the agony and dipped my face close.
“Every one of them,” I whispered back.
“You wearin’ them all?”
“All twenty-six. Even the ones you got me when I was a little girl. They’re tight but I'm wearing them.”
His hand went from my waist, pressing in, trailing up my body then I felt his fingers weave through the tangle of chains.