Bishop let out a sound of annoyance. “I don’t wanna talk about you fucking other guys when my cum is still dripping out of your pussy.”
I barked a laugh. “My point is that you always treated me with respect—even when annoyed. Even when we were at odds, volleying insults toward one another like we were playing table tennis.” I turned toward him, feeling the weight of his gaze. “I think that’s why I always had a crush on you. It was like I could be every version of myself and know it wouldn’t change how you saw me.”
Rough, calloused hands ran along my arm. “You had a crush on me?”
“Mmhm,” I said, shifting in his arms. “For a long time, honestly. It’s kinda embarrassing.”
“We need to have a discussion about your horrible taste in men,” he grumbled, but I didn’t miss the way it sounded like he was smiling.
“I’m not worried about it,” I said, closing my eyes.
“Why’s that?” he asked softly, running his fingers along my skin.
I burrowed myself deeper in his embrace, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat before whispering, “Because you’re the only one I want,” as I let sleep pull me under.
bishop
. . .
The scentof bacon pulled me from the edge of whatever comatose state I’d been under, followed by the low sound of Eric Clapton over my old FM radio. It was staticky and never worked when you wanted it to, but sometimes if you hit it just right, it’d start playing the local ‘oldies’ station.
I opened my eyes, groaning as a direct line of sunlight parted the curtain and assaulted me. But that couldn’t be right. The sun couldn’t possibly be up right now. I never slept in. Rolling over, I checked the clock, startled when I saw it was damn near eight.
My body was like a well-oiled, yet occasionally dirty, machine. I’d wager that ninety-seven percent of the time, I operated like usual, but the other three percent sometimes fell short. I’d been doing a lot of that lately. Especially seeing as this was the second morning in a row I’d slept in.
Of course, the fact that both of those times happened when Lennox had been asleep in my arms had nothing to do with it. Or it had everything to do with it. For the first time, I felt safe enough to truly let myself rest.
Either way, that was something for future Bishop to sort out.
I sat up and swung my legs over the edge. My bare feet landed on the old hardwood floor with a thud. One late morning could be explained by some bullshit excuse, but not two. I didn’t know how I was gonna explain this shit.
I grabbed a pair of shorts from the clean laundry basket on my chair and slipped them on. Normally, I was good at putting my shit up, but yesterday had caught me off guard. I hadn’t expected Lennox to bring the chaos with her through the door.
Peering out the window, I noticed Lennox’s truck sitting on my damn lawn. She’d left the thing running last night, lights and all, so I slipped outside when she drifted off to sleep to cut it off before it died.
Our clothes were strewn across the floor haphazardly. It reminded me of our night after the bar, how different that morning when she’d gathered her stuff and left in a rush was compared to this one. I spent damn near every day regretting the things I’d said that day. Even if I thought they were true then, it didn’t excuse how I’d hurt her.
Now, I had the chance to make things right. I wanted to show her I was in this for as long as she’d let me be. We hadn’t talked about that, and I wasn’t gonna push the issue, but I secretly hoped she wouldn’t cut me loose too quickly.
When I rounded the corner into my small kitchen, I paused. Lennox was standing in front of the stove, transferring bacon to a paper plate. She was swaying slightly to the beat of the music, humming under her breath as she worked.
And she was wearing my favorite fucking shirt.
It was threadbare and worn, but I still remembered the day Doug gifted it to me on my first day of work. Despite being too small for me now and the BSR logo being little more than faded lettering, I couldn’t bring myself to part with it. It was the start of my new adventure, my new life.
Suddenly, I didn’t give a flying fuck what time it was. I leaned against the threshold and watched her.
The shirt came to a stop just below Lennox’s ass. She opened the cabinet, rising on her tiptoes to reach two coffee mugs up top, and I couldn’t keep quiet anymore. A low groan escaped, and she stilled, turning over her shoulder with a shy smile.
“Hi,” she breathed. Her long hair was piled on top of her head in a mess of blonde and silver strands, showing off the biteable skin along her neck.
I stood in front of her in two strides, framing her face with my palms and giving her a kiss. “Hi,” I said, pulling back. Those blue eyes I couldn’t stop dreaming about were hazy as she stared at me. “How’d you sleep?”
“Great. Your bed is seriously comfy. It was like laying on a cloud.”
“Ah, I learned early on that a cheap mattress isn’t worth the gas you waste going to pick it up. You can’t do shit on a ranch if your back is too fucked up to move, so I’m alright spending a little more to make sure that doesn’t happen,” I admitted.
“Noted. You’re definitely going to need to spill your secrets, though, because I think I’ve fallen in love after just one night,” she said with a little nod, turning back toward the bacon and busying herself in the silence.
