“It’s you. There’s no other way it can be.”

His head came up and I felt his eyes looking down at me.

“What do I do?” I asked.

“Whatever you want,” he answered. “Do what comes naturally.”

I shoved my hands in his tee and pulled up.

Creed arched his back and lifted his arms.

I pulled his shirt off.

Amazing.

All that smooth, muscled skin in the moonlight.

Amazing.

I put my hands to it.

Not amazing.

Sublime.

Creed kissed me.

Even better.

He rolled so I was on top and I used my hands on him, my mouth, my fingers, my tongue, even my teeth. Just like he did on me.

He rolled us again so he was on top, he did the same to me and I felt it building. Building so much, I couldn’t stop the noises from escaping my throat. Little whimpers, low moans, breathless gasps.

Creed’s lips on mine, he told me gently, “Gonna put my hand between your legs, beautiful. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” I breathed.

His hand slid down my belly and I shivered, waiting, braced, anticipating, needing but he stopped with his fingertips at the top edge of my bikini bottoms.

“You sure?” he checked.

“Baby,” I gasped. “I’m ready.”

His hand slid in.

My neck arched.

Oh wow.

Wow.

His finger hit me right at the perfect spot and my h*ps bucked violently.

I liked that.

A lot.

His finger retreated.

No!

“Jesus, I hurt you, Sylvie?”

“No,” I panted, my hands moving on him, feverish, communicating, then I gave it to him verbally. “Please,” I whispered.

Apparently he needed no further encouragement. I knew this because his hand slid back in and his finger went right where I needed it.

My mouth opened on a silent moan.

Yes, this was good.

Now, it was perfect.

His finger moved on that sweet spot between my legs as his mouth moved on my neck, his tongue traced my jaw. Then, just as it built so high it crashed over, obliterating me with its sheer beauty, his mouth took mine and his tongue slid inside.

Yes.

Utterly.

Perfect.

As it slowly receded, I felt Creed’s finger move tenderly away then his hands went to the string ties on the sides of my bikini. He pulled them and I felt the material loosen around my hips.

“Gotta have you, baby,” he murmured against my mouth, his hand doing something at the back of his jeans.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“I’ll go slow. Be gentle,” he promised.

“Okay,” I repeated.

“It may hurt, beautiful,” he warned. “I’ll try to –”

My hands slid up his back into his hair and I curled them around the back of his head as I lifted mine, my lips to his and I urged, “Creed, baby, it’s okay. I want it. I’ve been waiting forever for you to make me really your Sylvie. So, please, please make me your Sylvie.”

I heard, just as I felt, his deep groan.

Yes.

Yes.

Utterly perfect.

Then, at the end of our pier, surrounded by our lake, my Creed set about making me really his Sylvie.

And he really became my Creed.

* * * * *

“We should just leave.”

That was Creed.

We were at the end of the pier. I had my legs curled under me, my bikini bottoms back on, Creed’s tee covering the rest of me. He was wearing his jeans, rolled up, his legs over the side, feet in the water. I was resting against him, my arms around his middle, my cheek to his chest. He had his arm curled tight around me and we were studying the lake.

“Just leave?” I asked the water.

“Get in my truck,” he answered. “Go.”

I closed my eyes and drew in a breath.

Then I reminded him, “I’ve got a bikini, Creed, shorts, a tank, flip-flops. That’s it.”

“That’s all you need. That and me.”

He was right.

But what he wanted to do was wrong.

I pulled my head away from his chest and tipped it back. As I did, his arm tightened around me, pulling me closer and his chin dipped down so he could study my face in the moonlight.

“The plan is, we meet here, eight thirty tomorrow after I tell Daddy I’m leaving,” I reminded him.

“We should change the plan.”

“Creed –”

His arm got super tight as he pulled me and twisted me so my bottom was in his lap.

Then he stated, “You don’t owe him that, beautiful. You don’t owe him shit.”

“He’s my father.”

“He’s no father.”

This was true.

Darn.

To buy time, I watched as I slid a hand up his chest, the skin warm and smooth, the muscle underneath hard and defined. I loved every inch. So I memorized the feel, knowing I’d be able to call that up anytime, always, for the rest of my life and remember it. Remember tonight. Remember every second. Every single second of my first time on the pier, by our lake, making love with Creed.

I pulled in a deep breath before I replied, “It wouldn’t feel right.”

“Too good of a girl,” Creed muttered and I looked up at him to see his eyes on the lake.

“He doesn’t deserve it but I’m not what my mother said. I’m not like him. I couldn’t live with myself if I just up and left. Didn’t tell him I was going. Didn’t tell him I wasn’t coming back. He’s not much of a father, Creed, but maybe somewhere in there, somewhere deep, he’d worry and I’d worry about that. At least, if he knows, I won’t have that worry.”

I heard and felt Creed heave a deep sigh but he didn’t speak.

I snuggled closer. “I’m all packed. First thing, I’ll tell him and then I’ll meet you here.”

His hand slid up my back and into my damp hair before he murmured, “You’re mine now, beautiful, in all the ways you can be. What we just shared, I loved it, it was right. Being here, our place, it was perfect. I want more. I want it all. I’m tired of waiting.”

I was too.

Still.

“Just a few more hours,” I whispered.

Creed’s hand cupped the back of my head so he could shove my face in his chest as he replied, “This proves it, baby. Nothin’ I won’t do for my Sylvie.”

I grinned against his chest and my arms around him gave him a squeeze.

I turned my head and pressed my cheek against his skin before I called it down.

“So, your friend has power of attorney to sign the papers to sell your house next week. I’m packed. I’ll tell Daddy, come here,” I gave him another squeeze, “you’ll give me my necklace, we’ll eat frozen Snickers bars for breakfast and then we’re gone.”