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“Bishop,” a voice says as I hear a knock against the plywood underneath Penelope’s perfect ass. “Open up so I can relieve you.”
I hear the stainless steel hook and eye latch rattle as he tries to press up on the plywood underneath Penelope.
Fuck.
“Give me a minute,” I growl at him.
“It’s hot in here, man. Hurry,” he says.
As much as I’m pissed off at him for interrupting us I realize this is a sign. She deserves better than this and the professor who’s here to relieve me doesn’t deserve to wait on me in some unventilated crawl space while I claim my woman for the first time less than a foot above his head.
“Sorry, Pumpkin. This will have to wait,” I say pulling her hands off my cock even though that’s the last thing on earth I want to do.
She fights me and I like her feistiness. “Nooo,” she says trying to keep her hands rammed down my pants, but when I lean in and kiss her again her whole body melts into mine and I slide her tiny paws off my bone.
I lift her up off the plywood structure and we straighten out our clothes.
I unhook the latch and help the professor who’s here to relieve me up and out and into our little hiding space.
I can’t complain. I asked for just a super short shift and a quick relief and he provided it just at the time I asked.
If anything I should be angry at myself, but I’m not.
Now we get to go through the rest of the haunted house together, and she can put her hands on me all she wants when she gets scared in there.
But I’ll be damned if I let anyone come close to putting their hands on her.
Because she’s mine.
Chapter Eleven
Penelope
“You called me Pumpkin back there at the haunted house,’ I say as we walk through a pumpkin patch.
We decided to do something else fun and Halloweenish after the haunted house so a pumpkin patch under the moonlight was the perfect activity. Plus it gets us outside where we can breath in the crisp autumn air that I wait for all year, and it gives us space where we can walk and talk.
“Your last name’s Patch. It fits perfectly.”
“Why not strawberry then?”
“I bet you are as sweet,” he says and then his tongue slides out of his mouth just a little licking his upper lip before his top lip is engulfed by his lower lip and both lips come out together and back into a normal resting position.
If most guys tried that they’d look like a ridiculous imitation of L.L. Cool J.
Not Bishop.
I’m not even sure he knows he did it. It was more like an involuntary reaction, his body language betraying the thoughts he’s trying to keep to himself…or not.
“But when I think of strawberries I think of fields, not to mention it is Halloween and a pumpkin has a perfectly round shape just like your,” he says. He lets the words hang there and I imagine his hands on my butt. “Eyes,” he says and I quickly slap him on the arm.
“Ow!” I say. “You’re…you’re…made out of rock or something.”
“Carved out of steel, thanks to years and years of lifting iron,” he says.
“Can I even squeeze an inch right here,” I say bringing my fingers to his tricep and looking for something to grab but finding nothing. “Okay, you win,” I say. “You’re the fittest guy I’ve ever seen.”
“How many fit guys have you seen?” he says looking at me with a streak of jealousy in his eyes mixed with surprise.
“So far in my life…none.”
“Good. That’s what I thought,” he says.
“I thought guys were interested in someone with…experience. Isn’t that why dating apps are all the rage?”
“First of all I’m not most guys,” he says and he’s absolutely right about that. “And I barely know what an app is. And I’ve sure never put my personal information on the Internet, although I’m guessing the university might get around to that if they haven’t already.”
If only he knew that homeowner records were not only public record, but right there at the click of a fingertip on Zillow. In a way I feel bad now, but the thought quickly gets dismissed when I think about where I’d be without having tracked him down.
I’d either be back in Oak Ridge with no future, or I’d be at some university trying to figure out which drunk coed is the least bad bad option for a boyfriend.
But I’d actually never do that. I’d rather be single than be in a relationship with someone I’m not interested in long term.
And I’ve been very interested in Bishop for over two years now, so even though things got hot and heavy about an hour ago at the haunted house it strangely doesn’t feel like we’re moving too fast.
