“I know, sweetheart. I know, and I?—”
It felt like he’d reached in and stolen the air from my lungs. “Wait…” I said, interrupting him. “Say it again.”
“I know?”
“No, the other thing.”
Bishop paused, lip quirking up. “You like that, huh?”
I nodded. It often sounded condescending as it fell from men’s lips—like they looked down on me, like I was less than they were. But when Bishop had said it, it felt right. “I think you’re the only one who's ever used the word sweet while talking about me, but okay.”
“Well, clearly, they’ve never tasted your pussy before, or else they’d know there’s no other word for you,” he growled against my lips as he kissed me fervently.
“Oh, they did, but I still never earned the distinction,” I said, choking back a laugh.
He lifted one shoulder in an arrogant shrug. “Their fucking loss is my gain.”
I pulled back, quirking a brow. “It doesn’t bother you that I said that?”
“What? That someone else has tasted you?” he snorted. “Lennox, I’m not a saint. Neither are you. We’re grown-ass adults. I don’t give a shit about what you’ve done in the past. I’m only concerned with your future.” His fingertips danced along my still-drenched skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “But from here on out—” he kissed my shoulder, hand sliding into my back pocket “—I’m the only one who gets that honor.”
His words terrified me. I wanted to believe them, but something was stopping me. Bishop was an honest man—an honorable man. He would never intentionally hurt me, but that didn’tmean it wouldn’t accidentally happen if he thought it was what was best for me.
And that was where my hesitation lay.
“You’re talking a big game for someone who seemed terrified to take that step days ago,” I murmured. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I’m not?—”
I placed my finger on his lips. “Actions, Bishop. Show me, don’t tell me.”
“You want actions?” he growled, nipping my digit lightly, and I nodded. “I’ll show you fucking actions.”
Bishop leaned forward, grabbing my thighs and hoisting me in the air. I wound my legs around his waist. Neither of us cared that my clothes were soaked. We wouldn’t need them for long anyway if his hard dick was any indication.
He slammed me against the wall, grinding himself against my center as he captured my mouth. His hips rolled in measured strokes, and my head fell back on a moan. How did it feel this good? We hadn’t even done anything yet.
“You like that, killer?” he asked, trailing kisses down my neck. He bit down on my pulse point so hard I knew it’d bruise. Maybe I should have cared, but I didn’t. Not as his tongue swirled over the hurt.
“Yes,” I gasped.
“I’ve barely touched you,” he said, clicking his tongue. “What a needy little slut you are. Look at you grinding down on me.”
“You’re the one digging yourself into me.”
He laughed, but it was harsh. This wasn’t the same man who had been ready to shed tears ten minutes ago. It reminded me of the first time we kissed and how he’d taken control of the situation and my body. He exuded confidence, the epitome of big dick energy.
But hey, at least he had the package to back it up.
“I’m just giving you what you want, isn’t that right? You wanna be fucked. You wanna be filled.”
“Bishop shut up,” I said, tugging on his hair. He hissed, and the sound sent an electric current to my already aching core. “You sure talk a lot for someone who mumbles one-word sentences every day.”
I grappled for his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swoop. My eyes trailed along his tattoo, across the dark hair along his chest, and down the trail disappearing beneath his jeans. He followed my gaze, smirking when he realized I was staring at his dick.
He let me go abruptly, and I stumbled, steadying myself on his forearms. “What’re you doing?”
Slowly, he popped the button of his jeans. “There’s something I’ve wanted to do since the moment I carried you into this cabin, something we never got around to four months ago.”
