“Don’t let there be another one.”

I planted my hands on my h*ps 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 f**kin’ 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 f**k 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.

I’d gotten up way early because they were calling me. So I left Creed in bed, went to my dresser, got the old then went out to the living room to collect and inspect the new.

And every last one of them I put on.

“Dreamed of this,” he murmured, his eyes glued to the chains. I dropped my head to rest my forehead on his. “Dreamed of seein’ you again, my green at your neck.”

“Guess today that makes me the woman who can make dreams come true,” I remarked, trying to keep it light and his eyes came to mine, so close, so blue. Gorgeous.

“Yeah,” he said softly and I watched a light ignite in his eyes. “Though, never dreamed of you wearin’ all of them at once.”

I pulled my head away and tucked my chin in my throat in the wasted effort of trying to see them, doing this muttering, “I don’t know.” I looked back at him and smiled. “I think they look awesome.”

He smiled back and my smile got bigger but his faded as he lifted both hands to either side of my head and held them there, his eyes moving over my face, his hands holding me steady.

“You love me?” he asked quietly.

I dipped my face close and answered quietly, “On a cold night, a long time ago, you put your hands almost exactly where they are right now and, I might have been six years old, but I fell hard. So, yeah. For over twenty-seven years, every day, every minute, every second, I’ve loved you, Tucker Creed.”

His hands left my head and my back hit the bed because Creed flipped me there before he kissed me, hard, deep, long, a kiss filled with twenty-seven years of love and beauty.

It was the best kiss of my life.

* * * * *

“I’m seeing I’m gonna have issues with my man being a badass,” I stated, standing in my front yard in my jeans, tee, boots, belt with my coat of mascara, eyeliner, gun in its holster on my belt, travel mug in hand and narrowed gaze on Creed.

“Just get in the truck, Sylvie.”

“’Vette, Creed.”

“I drive.”

“No, I drive,” I shot back.

“I drive,” he reiterated.

“Why, because you’re a man?” I asked.

“No, because I lied yesterday. I’m not all right with bein’ dead and havin’ you back for one day. After this morning, I want another day, at least, and, as I’ve already said, you’re a lunatic behind the wheel. We’re ending this day eating steak I’m grillin’ and drinkin’ beer then f**king. We’re not ending it in a fiery ball of flame.”