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Letting out a heavy sigh, I opened my eyes and got to my feet. “Okay. What are we doing?”
He smirked, and honestly, there was no helping me.
I was instantly right back in it, ready to swing for the fence.
“We’re going dress shopping.”
Chapter Nineteen
BISHOP
Hearing her footsteps coming down the stairs, I got to my feet and adjusted my club cut.
I felt like some teenage boy waiting for my prom date, fighting a fucking hard-on as she stepped around the banister in a rich, purple gown. The top was corset-like, pulling her waist in tight while pushing up her breasts. And if that wasn’t enough to almost kill me, a large slit sliced up the left side of the floor-length skirt, almost to her hip, leaving every inch of her thigh on show.
The memory of her wrapped in my arms the previous morning was still so vivid.
Her skin was just as soft as I’d imagined, the curve of her body fit perfectly into mine.
Every part of me wanted to have her.
To claim her.
To make her mine.
But there were things that needed to be done well before I made that decision.
“Eyes up here.” Her smart remark drew my attention back to her face, where a slight blush tinted her cheeks, though she was clearly amused. “You like it?”
She slowly twirled, and the slight wobble had a smirk tugging at my lips.
“You look beautiful,” I told her, the words falling from my lips with a weight of sincerity that surprised even me. I wasn’t exactly Casanova. It’d been a long time since I’d genuinely been awed by a woman, but Shay did it almost every day with her empathy, conviction, and ability to be strong and continue to fight even when her vulnerabilities screamed at her to back down.
She pulled to a hard stop midspin, her back to me. Her shoulders rose dramatically, and she sucked in a deep breath, continuing her turn to face me. “Thank you.”
“I mean it.”
Her laughter was light and airy. “I know. I think we’ve been over that.”
“We should probably go. It’s at least forty-five minutes away,” I told her as I stepped forward and pressed my hand to her back.
She followed my lead, hooking a small handbag over her shoulder with a silver chain. “Anything I need to know before I step into the lion’s den?” she questioned, holding my hand tightly as she maneuvered down the porch steps and to my Chevy truck. It was new, only a year or so old, and it had probably been driven more times in the past week since Shay had moved in than in the past year.
I didn’t mind, though.
While my Harley had become an extension of my body over the past twenty years, my actual body was getting older. I’d be fifty next year. I wanted to be able to continue riding with my men for as long as possible, but I was starting to understand that that meant occasionally letting my old fucking ass rest a little.
Driving Shay around was the perfect excuse, though I knew one day soon I was going to get her on the back of my ride.
To feel here there at my back.
Fuck.
I just knew there would be no going back.
For most of the ride, we sat in silence, Shay humming along to the radio while I navigated the highway to Ann Arbor and then out into the countryside.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been to Frank Martelli’s house. The club had done business with him in the past, and he and Rook were surprisingly tight, which was the only reason I’d had the fucking balls to show up at his weekly game of golf the previous week and ask him to back me instead of his fucking son.
