Chapter 182

"Drama queen," I blurt, and then after a second, "drama prince." Creed has always struck me as more of a prince and less of a king. And it's not because he's inferior to Tristan, it's just … he's different. If he spent less time trying to be or beat Tristan, and more time on his own endeavors, he'd be a force to be reckoned with.

Creed smirks, and I do my best not to sigh as his scent overwhelms me. He always smells so damn clean, like laundry detergent on fresh crisp cotton, hung out in the bright sun and brisk breeze to dry. Wow, Marnye, waxing poetic much?

"It's true." He leans in close and presses a kiss next to my left eye. My body shudders, and I hear him make this satisfied male sound. "I've been on pins and needles. And you have no idea how much I want to punch Zack."

"He's a good guy," I whisper, but it's so hard to think with Creed this close to me, his uniform just slightly disheveled, the top three buttons undone and revealing just a glimpse of flat, sm