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.”