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My mouth falls open because I’m just as surprised at my body’s reaction to his demand as I am at his tone. Flames of need singe what’s left of my sanity.
“Yes, Bishop. I was going to say I’m yours because you make me feel seen and loved, and you championed me from the first moment you met me.”
“Nothing less than what you deserve,” he says.
I shrug. “So my family keeps telling me.”
I feel his chest still, and his body tenses behind me, but only for a second. I angle my face to look up at him. “I’m guessing you didn’t grow up with four very loud siblings and a mom and dad telling you you can be whatever you want to be?”
Bishop exhales slowly, then tells me everything. “My mom raised my brother Cory and me here in Vegas on her own after our dad died. We got jobs at the hotel where she worked as soon as we were old enough to help pay the rent. I worked my way up and eventually became the night manager at a sleazy motel. Then a slightly better one, and so on. Our mom died in our twenties, and my brother took his half of our meager inheritance and gambled it away.
“Eventually, one of the quaint, older motels where I worked was about to be torn down until someone came and snatched it up, put in the work to restore it, and reopen in. That man hired me to work for him and taught me everything I know. Taught me how to save, how to parlay my ideas into using other people’s money to fix up old buildings. Eventually, I found myself owning my own small motel and then another, and then another. Cory noticed and started asking for help. I helped him as much as I could. But it was difficult, as he got addicted to pain pills and would disappear for weeks at a time. I didn’t even care about covering his rent or his bail money when he would get into scrapes. What I cared most about was he somehow charmed a nice showgirl named Henrietta into marrying him and proceeded to lie to her from day one.
“When money would go missing, she would call him on it. He would blame our parents; he would blame me. Henrietta and I both tried to talk to Cory about getting help, but he refused.
Things really blew up when she decided to leave him, and he threatened her. I helped her find a safe place to live. He came after me one night at a bar, accusing me of trying to steal his wife. Which wasn’t true. He attacked me with a busted beer bottle.”
“Good lord,” I say.
“Yep. It looked worse than it hurt. A lot of blood.”
I turn to look at him again. Touching the scar over his eyebrow. “He left you with this?”
Bishop nods. “And, as much as I don’t like guns, I made sure Henrietta had one and knew how to use it. One night Cory managed to get past the security gate at her place, banged on her bedroom window out of his gourd. Henrietta fired a warning shot, but it grazed him. He was okay but ended all contact with both of us after that. I love my brother, but he needs help. It was more important to keep Hen safe than keep handing him money.”
My heart is in my throat. “So, Henrietta—our Henrietta—is your sister-in-law?”
“Yes. Ex-sister-in-law.”
What a story. “And all this time, you’ve been saying you’re proud of me. Look at what you did! Not many would do that. You’re a natural protector. I’m proud of you, Bishop.”
Reaching my arm back to circle his neck, I let him know just how safe he makes me feel. I arch my back and jut out my breasts, making sure he has a clear view down the neckline of my tee shirt dress.
Bishop’s voice drops down low as he kisses my neck. “I just did what I could. I just did what I thought was right.”
I think I love him even more now. “I know you’re telling the truth because I can verify all of it with Henrietta.”
Bishop looks down at me quizzically with one raised eyebrow. “Why would I lie?”
I chuckle. “As sad as it is, everything you did for her makes a great pick-up story. You know that, right?”
“It does?”
Nodding, smiling, and sliding my hand down his thigh, I say, “Uh-huh.”
Once again, he rests his head against mine, his heavy breathing turning me into a trembling mess. His arms pull me in closer, but I don’t think I can get any closer.
Bishop’s mouth sweeps down my neck, lining my skin with sweet, tender kisses.
I hum in response to how good this feels. “Mm, you should have told me that story on day one. You could have stolen me away right then.”
Bishop chuckles softly and nudges the material away from my shoulder, pressing a sensuous kiss there. He kisses across my bare shoulder blades, tugging the stretchy fabric down.
His low growl of frustration vibrates against my back, and he moves his hands down my sides. Sliding up under the hem of my dress, his big hands caress my skin from my thighs, my hips, and all the way up until he’s helping me tug the entire dress off over my head.
And now, for the second time today, I’m down to my bridal lingerie set while Bishop is still dressed. I find the vulnerable sensation of my bare skin against his clothed body highly erotic. I press back, feeling the hard length digging into my hip. He angles down to join our mouths and tongues while working loose the hooks at the back of my bra. I sigh in relief to be free of it.
My arm goes up to circle his neck once again, my back arching, my body welcoming his hands that tenderly cup my bare breasts. His too-gentle touch glides over my sensitive nipples, stopping to gently strum and tease, provoking a husky moan from my throat.
