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I turn to look at him over my shoulder. “You okay?” He’s not usually touchy-feely, so this is new territory we’re both walking through, but it feels right. He makes my heart race and my blood rush, but it feels right.
Tilting his head, he looks into my eyes then runs his thumb over my knuckles. “Yeah, yeah, I am now. Want me to run you a bath? You don’t want to get that wet.” He points up to my head, and I touch it, remembering the bandage and remembering I got shot—or grazed.
But still, I got shot.
Oh my God.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, obviously noticing my facial expressions. Tilting his head to the other side, his fingers stay laced with mine.
I grin a little. “I’m a bit of a badass. I’ve been shot!”
He chuckles, letting go of my hand and slapping my ass. “Get in the shower.”
I bite down on my lip and quickly rush into the bathroom.
“And lock that fucking door!” Bishop yells, his voice vibrating through the thin walls.
I laugh, shaking my head and unbuttoning my jeans before slipping them off. Scrubbing myself in the shower, I want to stay in for longer than I do but I also really want to be near Bishop right now, so I flick off the faucet and grab the towel, wrapping it around myself. Drying my body, I already feel much better than I did five minutes ago. Slipping on my boy-shorts and my loose gray sweatpants, I toss on my tight black tank and put my towel in the hamper before pulling open my bedroom door. Leaning on the doorframe, I smile at Bishop, who’s biting into one of the sushi rolls.
“Good?”
“Not bad, but I guess it will taste even better to you because you haven’t eaten in so long.” I push off the wall and make my way toward him, taking a seat beside him on the mattress. Grabbing a taco, I dip it into the guacamole and bite into the crispy shell.
“Mmmmm,” I groan, unable to help the pleasure that takes over my body as my taste buds get their first taste of the taco.
Bishop pauses, sushi roll midway to his mouth. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I ask innocently, licking the sauce off my fingers.
He drops the sushi roll back onto the platter. “Madison….”
I roll my eyes. “I won’t do that, but! Only because I’m starving and I actually feel like I’m about to eat every single thing on this platter.”
“Good.” He grins, picking up the sushi roll and popping it back into his mouth.
I chow down my taco, not making a single sound. Reaching for my water bottle, I twist it open, swallowing the cool liquid.
“So tell me, how’d you know all of this was my favorite food?” I ask Bishop, stretching out on the mattress because my stomach feels like it’s about to explode. Looking up at the ceiling, I eventually look toward him when he doesn’t say anything.
“I know all there is to know about you, Madison.” He moves the platter to the other side of the mattress and slides beside me. “Ask me anything.”
“Hmmm.” I bring my finger to my lip, pretending to mull over some questions. “Okay, how about this?”
Bishop raises his eyebrows cockily.
“Where was I born?”
“New York, try harder than that.”
He’s right; that was too easy. “My first pet’s name?”
“Billy and he was a goldfish. You were seven and demanded your mom buy it for you so you’d have a friend, because you were an only child. Furthermore, you used that same excuse for Jasper the Persian cat, Slash—by the way, nice choice of name—the Pomeranian—not a fan of giving such a powerful name to such a tiny dog either—and Jupiter, your parrot.” He tilts his head, egging me to challenge him.
I don’t. I just stare, because what else could I do? Nothing surprises me much in this world now since finding out about the Kings, but it’s still a lot to take in.
“Wow,” I whisper out, rolling onto my stomach. I lean my head on the palm of my head and look up at him. He’s sitting up with his back leaning against the bedframe, but his legs are spread out in front of him.
“You have me at a disadvantage then,” I whisper, locking eyes with him. “I don’t know much about you.”
He snorts, leaning back, his ab muscles tensing as he does it. “Don’t take it to heart. No one knows anything about me.” He closes his eyes and reaches out. “Come here.” Two simple words but so commanding. I don’t fight it. I scoot up the mattress and snuggle into his warm, hard arms. His familiar scent starts to smell more like home and less like Bishop. Running the tip of my nose against his chest, I draw lines across his pec, over the tattoo that is inked into his skin. It’s an eagle, soaring freely. “This is cool.” I yawn.
