His arms got tighter and I felt his lips pressed into the top of my hair as he whispered, “Oh baby.”
I cried in his arms, mine holding as tight as his held me, my body shaking uncontrollably and I did this for a while.
Then I arched back, looked in the direction of his face and cried, “She’s the only one in that house I like! Now she’s gone and I’m all alone!” after which I collapsed against him and started bawling again.
He bent and picked me up. I circled his neck with my arms, shoved my face in his neck and kept right on crying. We both went down and he settled me in his lap, his back against a tree and he stroked mine as I pressed close and kept sobbing. I did this for a while and Creed let me, stroking my back, sometimes my hair, sometimes shifting my hair away from my face but not saying a word and holding me close the whole time.
My tears subsided to sniffles and whimpers but I didn’t raise my head when I said, “I loved her.”
“I know you did, Sylvie,” he whispered. “She was a great dog.”
“I have a whole year before I’m out of that house and I have to spend it all alone.”
“Hey,” he called gently and I sucked in a trembling breath.
Then I asked, “What?”
“Look at me.”
I straightened a bit in his lap and tilted my head back.
His hands came to either side of my face, fingers moving, shifting damp tendrils of hair away, wiping away wet, his eyes watching them move before he framed my face and looked deep in my eyes.
“When has my Sylvie ever been alone?” he asked softly.
I closed my eyes and my head dropped forward, my forehead hitting his chin.
He kissed me there then his lips moved against my skin, “You always got me.”
I nodded, my forehead moving against his chin. “Yeah,” I whispered.
“Where is she?” he asked.
I sucked in a shaky breath and pulled back an inch, tipping my head to catch his eyes.
“I wrapped her in a blanket. She’s at home.”
“Your Dad and the stepmonster?”
“He’s golfing then having dinner with his cronies. She’s shopping then drinks with her girls. He said he’d call the vet but they said they couldn’t come until tomorrow.”
He looked over my shoulder and muttered, “Priceless. Pure Bissenette, his daughter’s dog dies and he’s f**kin’ golfing.”
“Creed,” I called and he looked back at me.
“I’ll take you home. Get her. Take you both to my place. You say good-bye and I’ll take care of her.”
I stared at him.
God! He was so wonderful. Everything. Everything. He was everything to me.
“Thank you, Creed,” I whispered.
“Gotta take care of my girl’s Bootsie,” he whispered back.
I looked deep into his beautiful, beautiful blue eyes.
Then I whispered again, “Thank you,” leaned forward and touched my mouth to his.
On the way back, his hand suddenly slid up into my hair, moving fast, his fingers curved in and my head stopped its retreat.
His gaze bored into mine. Something about it was hot. So hot, I felt it burning me.
Mine bored back.
Then I moved forward and it was only a couple of inches but Creed met me halfway.
Then his mouth was on mine, mine was on his, his opened, mine followed suit and his tongue slid inside.
Oh my God.
Oh my God!
Creed was kissing me!
And he tasted as beautiful as he… just… was.
Suddenly, I was on my back in the grass, Creed’s torso pressing me there, his tongue demanding something I wasn’t sure how to give. I’d necked with guys but not like this. Not like Creed was kissing me but I just let him take what he wanted. As far as I was concerned, he could have anything from me. His big hands moved fast and warm at my sides, every inch of skin on my body started tingling and I pressed up automatically, seeking more, of what I didn’t know.
Just Creed.
I just wanted more of Creed.
He tore his mouth from mine abruptly on a harsh, clipped, “Fuck,” and my arms tightened quickly when it felt like he was going to pull away. His eyes locked on mine. “Let go, Sylvie.”
“Don’t,” I breathed.
“Sylvie, let go.”
“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.”
One of his hands cupped the side of my face. “Baby, you gotta let go. This is not right.”
I lifted my head an inch from the turf and whispered fiercely, “This is the most right thing in the world.”
My words were true. I knew it. I knew it.
“You’re beautiful,” he told me. “You’re beautiful, Sylvie. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen but you’re too young, baby. This is not right. You gotta let go.”
“I’m never letting go.”
“You gotta let go.”
My arms tightened hard around his neck. “Creed, I’m never letting go.”
I watched him close his eyes tight, his head dropped, mine went back to the grass and he rested his forehead against mine.
Then he bit out, “Goddamn it,” and jerked up but not away from me. He pulled me up with him until he was sitting again, back against the tree, me in his lap and his arms, facing him.
His arms left me, his hands shoved my hair back away from my face and he held me there, one hand on each side.
“This was not supposed to happen now,” he told me.
“It happened,” I shot back.
“Fuck,” he hissed, banging his head back against the tree and looking skyward. “What the f**k do I do now?” he asked the branches of the tree.
I lifted a hand to his face and brushed away the thick hank of hair that fell over his eye and his head righted so he could look at me.
Then he said the five most precious words I ever heard in my whole life.
“I wanna make you mine.”
I closed my eyes as joy and relief swept through me.
Finally!
Then I opened them, looked at him and lifted my hand to touch the peridot resting at the base of my neck.
“Too late. I already am.”
His arms closed around me, one hand coming up to the back of my head again and shoving my face in his neck.
“Shit,” he muttered before he pulled me back and looked down at me. “You sure?”
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
He closed his eyes tight and dropped his forehead to mine again. “God, Sylvie.”
I slid my head down to the side and pressed my face in his neck, my arms stealing around him, holding him tight.