Killer. He hadn’t called me that since Dad’s birthday. Before everything had gone horribly wrong, we’d been on the precipice of giving into this raw energy between us. The way it rolled off his tongue, decadent and low, sent shivers down my spine.
“Well, we aren’t alone,” I whispered, licking my lips because they’d suddenly gone bone dry.
Bishop’s gaze darted down, tracking the movement with expert precision. “Is that right?”
Had his voice dropped lower, or was I just imagining things?
“Mmhm,” I said, nodding. “I mean, we are surrounded by animals. And you’ll have to share the couch with meandCallie.”
He glanced down at the dog sitting at my feet. “I think I could make that work.”
“Are you sure? She kind of hogs the space.”
He leaned in, and I caught a faint whiff of cologne. Since when did he wear cologne to work? I mean, I sure didn’t put perfume on when I was getting ready to shovel shit for hours at a time. “I’m a big man, killer. I’m used to taking up space.”
Oh boy, I was in fucking trouble now.
“Well, if you’re sure,” I said, stepping back. I needed a bit of distance, just a moment to clear my head. I didn’t know what to do with this softer side, especially not toward me. Bishop was compassionate and hardworking and dedicated, but he was also gruff and brash and had zero patience. Most of the time, the latter was his default.
It seemed only in the quiet moments that he let that other side slip out and show itself. Like right now, in a silent barn filled with sleeping horses and no one around but us.
Bishop reached up to turn off the lights, but I stopped him. “Aren’t you gonna grab your beer?” I asked.
He turned and stared at the bottle, hesitating for a moment before shaking his head. “Naw. I don’t need it.”
“Wait… What? Did you, Bishop Bryant, just say you didn’t need a beer?” I reached up, placing the back of my hand along his forehead to check for a fever. Clearly, he must be on his deathbed to make such a bold claim. “Is there such a thing as a fever being so hot that it nearly feels cool to the touch? That’s the only explanation I can think of.”
Bishop gripped my wrist, gently pulling it away from his face. “It’s nearly midnight. Why would I need a beer?”
I narrowed my eyes into tiny slits. “Have you been abducted by aliens again? It’s weird they tried for a second time when their first was wildly unsuccessful.”
“Nope. No aliens, no body snatching. Just Bishop.”
“Just Bishop,” I repeated slowly. He still had hold of my wrist, his thumb sweeping gently across my pulse point—which was embarrassing because I could feel it racing. I was too aware of the contact, how close we were, and how much closer I wanted to get.
“That’s right.” He gave me a small smile and nodded toward the stairs. “Now, let’s see what gore fest you’re up there watching.”
“I’ll have you know it isn’t agore fest,” I said, walking backward. “Scream changed the horror genre, okay? It is witty and well thought out. And the cast, Bishop! The cast is so good. And?—”
“And you have a weird thing for the mask?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you asking me if I have a mask kink?”
He lifted one shoulder. “What if I am?”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I said, “I wouldn’t call it a mask kink… But maybe a Ghostface kink? Is that a thing?”
He chuckled. “Can be, I guess.”
As I turned to climb the stairs, I realized Bishop’s face wouldbe eye level with my ass. Did I put a little extra swing in my hips? I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe I was the one who was going insane because what the hell was I doing alone with Bishop in my loft about to watch a scary movie? That sounded like a recipe for disaster.
Or the start of a really fun night…
bishop
. . .
My cock was strainingagainst my jeans as Lennox pressed play on the second film. In fact, it’d been hard since I saw her standing in my office doorway wearing a sleepy smile and long legs on display.
