Or maybe it had something to do with the multiple glasses of whiskey being pushed his way.
“And then there were two,” I said, picking up my bottle and downing it. It soured on my tongue, leaving a bitter taste behind. “Why is it always us?”
Bishop shook his head. “Fuckin’ beats me. I figured you’d be up and out of your seat by now.”
He was right. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve left without a second thought. So why was I still here?
I couldn’t ignore the restless energy coursing through my veins like it had the night he and I had almost gone too far. I didn’t know why I felt the need to act on it. It wasn’t like it’d never steered me wrong. In fact, there were many times I’d woken up regretting my actions.
It wasn’t too late. I could still wander into the crowd and find a cowboy for the night. One I could lose myself in and avoid damaging my pride further. There sure wasn’t a shortage of them. I could literally throw a stone in any direction and hit a good-looking man in tight jeans and a pair of boots. But therein lay my problem.
I didn’t want just any cowboy. I wanted one specific pair of boots kicked off by the foot of my bed. I wanted the one next to me, as stupid as it might be. Just for one night. Just to get it out of my system, so we could squash whatever the fuck this was between us once and for all. He could preach to me all day about how we shouldn’t for any number of reasons, but it didn’t eliminate that stupid, reckless feeling.
Our age difference, the fact he worked for my dad, the fact we both knew it wouldn’t change anything… None of it mattered. Honestly? It only made things worse. It felt forbidden, and I wanted him even more because of it.
I found myself thinking about that night more than I cared to admit. Though, I usually dragged myself out of the thought right before I’d thrown up—everything that came after that was a fucking disaster. My whole body tingled when I remembered what it felt like to have his calloused fingers dig into my skin, or the way he’d slapped my ass. He always exuded such control. Seeing him try to force me into submission got me all sorts of hot and bothered.
Something knocked into my chair, and I blinked to clear the haze. Bishop was staring at me, his brows furrowed in question.
“What?” I asked, straightening my back.
“Dunno. You had a weird look on your face. Wasn’t sure what was happening.”
“It must be difficult to understand the concept of being lost in thought, what with all that empty space up there,” I said, reaching over to tap his temple.
“Fuck off,” he said. “There’s at least one or two little Bishops up there running the show.”
I turned to him in shock. “Did you just make a joke?”
Bishop chuckled. “I’ve been known to do that a time or two.”
“Well, I’ve never heard one before.”
“Naw, I never let my guard down around you. That’d be too dangerous.” He turned his head, letting his eyes rake over my body. There wasn’t anything soft or sweet about it. Nothing but raw heat blazed in those dark green depths.
“Sounds vulnerable,” I said. My voice came out all raspy and strange, like I’d forgotten to breathe in the moments that passed.
“Sometimes it is,” he admitted.
“Maybe you should try it sometime.”
“Telling jokes?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Being vulnerable.”
Bishop ran his tongue along his teeth, looking down at the hand wrapped around his cup. “I thought we already talkedabout that. I have rules I don’t break,” he said, lowering his voice. “Not even for a pretty little cocktease like yourself.”
“Fuck,” I breathed, clenching my thighs on instinct. What was happening right now?
He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “Shit, sorry. I—I don’t know why I said that?—”
I leaned over, placing my hand on his thigh like he’d done to Cleo earlier. It’d made me stupid jealous, even though I knew I had no right or reason to be. They were closer in age, eliminating what seemed to be his biggest concern.
And yet, he couldn’t keep his eyes off me. Even in the months since our fight, even when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, I knew he was looking my way. I wasn’t stupid, and I wasn’t blind.
Bishop’s nostrils flared as he glanced down at my hand. “The fuck are you doing, Lennox?”
“I dunno,” I admitted. “Maybe it’s the alcohol?—”
