17. Avery

CHAPTER 17

AVERY

"Wow, look at you here," Creed pointed at a photo of my seven-year-old self, hair a wild mess, a chocolate smear across my cheek. "What were you trying to be, a raccoon?"

The living room felt warm and inviting as Creed and I flipped through the family photo album. Each page turned was a trip down memory lane, filled with pictures of me as a kid, and Creed couldn't resist teasing me.

"Hey!" I laughed, shaking my head. "That was an intense day at the chocolate factory tour. I think I might've accidentally had more fun than I was supposed to."

"Looks more like you single-handedly took out the entire snack table," Creed smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You must have been a handful."

I nudged him playfully. "Well, at least I wasn't as boring as I bet you were as a kid. Let me guess—you were the model student? Perfect grades, no shenanigans?"

Creed feigned shock, hand over his heart. "Excuse you, I was a rebellious child! I once stayed up past my bedtime to finish a book. It was scandalous."

"Wow, a real rebel," I chuckled, rolling my eyes. "I'm surprised you didn't get sent to military school."

Creed's laughter filled the room, and for a moment, everything else faded away. I felt a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the cozy surroundings.

Just as I was about to turn the page, the door swung open, and my mother walked in, her expression curious. "What are you two up to?"

"Just reminiscing," Creed said, his tone darkening. He gestured to the album, and she stepped closer, peering at the pages.

"Oh, I remember this!" she exclaimed, pointing at a picture of me in a clown costume from a childhood birthday party. "You were so cute! I can't believe you used to let me dress you up like that."

"Mom, please! I'm trying to maintain some dignity here." I buried my face in my hands, the word Mom slipping out before I even realized it. It caught me off guard, a little crack in the armor I usually kept on around her. In moments like this, when she let herself be playful, she felt more like a mom —warm, approachable, someone I could almost laugh with. Not the stern, distant mother I'd grown used to. Why couldn't she be this way more often?

The atmosphere felt light as we flipped through more pictures, and I lost myself in the nostalgia of simpler times. My mother pointed out moments I'd forgotten, each memory a reminder of how uncomplicated life had once been.

But just as I was settling into that comfort, she turned to Creed, her voice bright. "You know, you might really miss Avery while he's gone to Japan for a month."

My stomach dropped, the weight of my mother's comment pressing down like a lead weight. Had we talked about my trip? No.

Creed's expression shifted from playful to startled. "Japan?" he echoed, his brows knitting together.

My heart raced as I shot a glance at Creed, silently pleading for him to cover for us. The last thing I wanted was for our fake relationship to be laid bare before her. "Oh, um, yeah," I managed, forcing a casual tone. "Just a little trip for work, nothing too exciting. Sorry, babe." I reach over and gave his hand resting on his knee a squeeze, hoping he'd play along, so that we could get through this with as little damage as possible. But my hand shook against his, and he didn't squeeze back.

Creed nodded slowly, his expression schooled into something neutral. "Right. I must have forgotten," he said a little too flatly. He offered my mother a tight-lipped smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'll, uh, manage while Avery's gone."

My mother smiled, seemingly satisfied, but I could see the flicker of something in Creed's eyes—a hint of irritation mixed with confusion. The tension hung between us like a thick fog, but we were getting better at covering for each other, weaving our stories together with practiced ease.

I couldn't shake the feeling that my mother's comment had been more than a simple observation. Was she trying to trip us up, or was there genuine concern lurking behind her words? The uncertainty gnawed at me.

It felt like a lifetime, though only a few minutes had passed, when Creed leaned in close to my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "I think we've had enough for tonight, don't you?" he murmured, his voice laced with something hard, something that made my chest tighten.

I nodded, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "Yeah. Let's go."

We excused ourselves, but the silence between us as we left the living room was thick, buzzing with all the things we hadn't said. I could feel his frustration radiating off him in waves, and I knew that once we were behind closed doors, this bubble of pretend peace was going to burst.

I knew Creed would be upset. I expected confusion, maybe disappointment. But this? This hollow, shattered look in his eyes, like I'd just ripped away something important—it was unbearable.

He stared at me, like he was trying to process my words and couldn't make sense of them. We were still in the hallway, standing close but worlds apart. "You're... leaving?" The question was soft-spoken, his voice almost lost in the quiet of the house.

I tried to find the right words, but they got tangled up in my throat. "Yeah, I... I'm flying out to Japan. Business trip. I'll be gone most of December, back just in time for Christmas." I was grateful no one could overhear us from where we stood. I could barely hold his gaze, let alone bear the frustration building between us.

His gaze shifted, the raw hurt in his eyes folding away behind a blank mask. The shift was so quick, it made my stomach drop. "Okay. Got it." He moved away from me, putting a careful distance between us. His shoulders drew up, defensive, like he was bracing for a blow. "You don't need to explain anything to me. It's your life, Avery. I'm just... your employee, right?"

Employee? The word burned like acid. I took a step closer, reaching out, but he angled away from my touch. "Creed, that's not... you know it's not like that."

He let out a short laugh, the sound brittle and hollow. "It's fine. Really. You didn't do anything wrong."

But it wasn't fine. It was anything but fine. The air between us chilled, the space growing wider with every passing second. I swallowed against the tightness in my chest, struggling to find the words, to say something that would bridge the gap. All I managed was, "Look, I could... I could give you more money before I go, so you don't have to?—"

Creed's expression hardened, his jaw tightening like he was biting back a response. He shook his head sharply. "I don't need your charity, Avery. We agreed on an amount, and I'm sticking to it." His voice was clipped, controlled. A tone I haven't heard from him before.

"But you don't have to sleep in your car?—"

"I'm not," he cut in, the words coming out sharp enough to slice. His eyes flashed, something raw and wounded burning behind them. "I've got a place lined up. The car thing... it was just temporary. I'll be fine."

Liar. He was lying through his teeth. I could see it in the way his gaze flickered away from mine, how he shifted on his feet, too restless. But I knew better than to push. Not when he was like this, all his walls up, as unreachable as he'd been most of the time since we met.

"Okay," I said, though it felt like a lie to agree. My chest ached with the urge to reach out, to pull him close and make him understand that this—us—meant something to me. But I just nodded like everything was settled. "If that's what you want."

He didn't answer, just shrugged and turned toward the stairs, moving like he couldn't get away from me fast enough.

We climbed up to the bedroom in a silence that scraped at my nerves. I trailed behind him, my mind racing. He wasn't meeting my eyes anymore, his shoulders drawn tight beneath his shirt. I felt the weight of all the things we weren't saying, pressing down on my chest until it was hard to breathe.

In the room, we went through the motions—brushing teeth, changing into pajamas—like strangers. He stayed on his side of the bed, back to me, and I didn't dare try to cross the space between us. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, and I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. But it felt like we were back at square one, like I was standing in front of a locked door that I thought I'd finally managed to open.

I wanted to tell him that he wasn't just my employee. That I liked him—really liked him. That I wanted him to be part of my life, not just my bed. But the words tangled up in my throat, choked by fear and uncertainty. What if he didn't want that? What if it was all just... wishful thinking on my part?

The silence stretched, heavy and cold. I lay down, facing the ceiling, and felt the emptiness between us like a chasm. The warmth of his body on the other side of the mattress felt miles away. I turned my head, watching the shape of him in the darkness, but he didn't move. Didn't say a word.

I bit back the frustration building in my chest and turned away, curling up on my side, facing the wall. Maybe I should just sleep. Maybe in the morning, we'd be able to talk about this without the weight of the night pressing down on us. But the ache in my chest lingered, and sleep felt as distant as Creed's touch.

The room was too quiet. Each breath sounded loud in the darkness, and I couldn't stop my mind from circling back to the memory of earlier, to the warmth of his smile and the way his body felt against mine. Now, all of that felt like a different lifetime—like it never happened at all.

I lay there, eyes wide open in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Sleep wasn't coming, not with all this static buzzing in my head. I could tell from the way Creed's breathing hitched and caught that he wasn't sleeping either. It was like there was a thread stretched taut between us, vibrating with everything we weren't saying. The weight of his body, just a few inches away, was impossible to ignore.

Without thinking, I shifted, turning to face him, and in the darkness, I sensed him doing the same. The shadows blurred his features, but I could see the outline of his lips, slightly parted, as if he was waiting for something he couldn't bring himself to ask for.

My hand moved on its own, reaching out, brushing against the bare skin of his arm. His breath stuttered. For a moment, neither of us moved, suspended in this strange, charged silence. Then, almost like a reflex, Creed's hand found my shoulder, his touch hesitant but warm. He pulled me closer, and I went, folding myself into his space, letting the distance between us disappear.

Our lips met in the dark, tentative at first, like we were testing the waters, like earlier in the hot spring. But it didn't stay that way for long. There was this heat between us, something that ignited the second our mouths connected, and I lost myself in it, in him. His fingers curled into my hair, and a shiver ran through me. It was like we slipped out of the real world and into this place where nothing else matters—no trips, no fears, no confusion. Just this.

I pressed him back into the mattress, my body moving over his, and he melted beneath me, soft and pliant in a way I didn't expect. I thought he'd push back, that I'd have to coax him into this, but instead, he arched up, meeting me halfway. A soft, needy sound escaped him, muffled against my lips, and it made my chest tighten, a desperate kind of longing twisting inside me.

God, I wanted to take care of him. I wanted to make him feel good, to make him forget whatever ghosts were haunting him right now. My hands moved down, tracing the curve of his body, memorizing the way he felt under my touch. He shivered when I slid my fingers lower, and I took my time, teasing him until he was gasping, clinging to me, his hips twitching as he chased the pressure he so clearly needed.

The air in the room was thick with the sound of our breathing, of quiet whimpers and muffled moans. I slipped my fingers inside him, slow and careful, feeling him open up around me, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever felt. His head fell back against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open as he fell apart in my hands. I watched every moment of it, transfixed, memorizing the way his eyes fluttered, the way his lips trembled, the way his body shook with each wave of pleasure.

I couldn't help myself—I wanted more. I shifted lower, kissing a line down his body until I was between his legs, and he made this broken, desperate sound that went straight to my core. He was trembling, so responsive, and when I took him into my mouth, he let out a choked cry, his fingers tangling in my hair. It was messy and raw, the heat of him against my tongue, the way he bucked up into my mouth, barely able to hold himself together.

He came undone beneath me, with a sob that he tried to swallow down, and I savored every second of it, feeling a fierce kind of pride bloom in my chest. I pulled back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, but before I could even think about finishing myself off, Creed shifted, moving down to press his mouth to mine in a kiss that was almost desperate.

Then he was pushing me back against the bed, his hands fumbling but eager as he reached for me. "I want to," he murmured against my skin, and there was this hesitation in his voice, like he was afraid of getting it wrong. But then his mouth was on me, hot and eager, and every thought in my head shattered like glass.

His lips wrapped around me, and I couldn't hold back the groan that ripped free. He started slow, a little clumsy but with this earnestness that made my pulse race. And God, he was so into it, making these low, hungry noises, like he was finding something he didn't know he was searching for. It wasn't long before my control slipped, my hands moving to cradle his head, guiding him, and he didn't pull away, didn't even hesitate. If anything, he leaned into it, letting me take the lead, letting me use his mouth in a way that sent a thrill straight down my spine.

The heat between us built, intense and overwhelming, like a wave that kept cresting higher and higher until I couldn't take it anymore. My hips jerked, my hand fisting in his hair as I lost myself in the rhythm of it, the wet slide of his mouth, the way he let me push deeper, taking everything I gave him. It was too much, too good, and before I knew it, I was coming with a groan that echoed through the room.

When it was over, I pulled him up into my arms, both of us breathing hard, and he collapsed against me, his face buried in my neck. We lay there, tangled up in each other, the heat of our bodies mingling, and for a while, we didn't say anything. But the silence was different, softer somehow, like we'd smoothed out some of the rough edges.

Eventually, the words bubbled up in my chest, and I couldn't keep them in any longer. I brushed my thumb over his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin. "Creed," I murmured, my voice barely more than a whisper in the dark. "Come spend Christmas with me. After I get back."

He went still for a moment, like he was considering it, and then he lifted his head, his lips brushing mine in a slow, gentle kiss that made my chest ache. "Yeah," he whispered, the word like a promise against my mouth. "I'd like that."