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“What did you study?” he continued questioning.
“Herbology, homeopathic medicine, botanical medicine and alchemy, as well as things connected to those studies. Pseudoscience has always fascinated me, but alchemy is something I really love learning about.” Someone in the backseat whistled, which caused Rowan to glance in the rearview mirror before settling his attention back on the road.
“You actually went to college even though you are a Bishop?”
“My mother went to college too. I fail to see why being a Bishop would prevent me from reaching for higher education. If anything, we should consider it an accomplishment since few from Witchery Hollow ever leave it, and those who do, rarely do so to better themselves.” I felt as if he’d laughed at the accomplishments I’d achieved. “Do you think a woman cannot be educated?” My inner-feminist was rising at the way he’d asked.
“I know many well-educated women. I also know that when Bishop women wander too far from home and leave the protection of Witchery Hollow, they die young, like Rena did on her trek around the world,” he stated softly, while gauging my response at his mention of my mother. If I had known her, I’d probably respond to her name. But I’d never met her and only knew her through the pictures and tales my grandmother told me. “I’m finding it hard to believe that Violet Bishop allowed you to leave, since you’re rather young and naïve.”
“That’s quite the assumption since you’ve no idea how old I am,” I retorted.
Briefly, his eyes abandoned the road to drift over my features slowly, dipping to my chest before they returned to the road. Even though he’d merely looked at me, it felt as if he’d dissected more than just my appearance.
“Twenty-four, or very close to it,” he guessed, which had goosebumps spreading over my arms. “How old do you think I am, darling?”
“Thirty?” I blurted out the first guess that came to mind, which had laughter erupting from the backseat. “Late twenties?”
“She’s cute, Rowan. Can we keep her? I bet she’d be fun to play with,” one man asked. “I like new toys, even if I do end up breaking them.”
“She’s a Bishop. Which means she’s more trouble than she’s worth. Pussy isn’t good enough for the shit you’d have to deal with to hit-it-and-quit-it, boys,” another stated in a deadened tone. “Besides, Bishop women snare men with their vibrant red hair, and enthralling blue stare promising them their souls for eternity. Then, they devour your soul until nothing remains of who you were before the hag caught you in her pussy trap. You’re smarter than that, dumbass. We don’t play with them until they break. Everyone knows broken toys are no fun to play with.”
“My hair isn’t red, nor are my eyes blue. Besides, I wouldn’t let any of youplaywith me even if I were desperate enough to ride my teddy bear until I got myself off,” I returned with honey lathering in my reply. “But please, continue talking shit while I try to catch a fuck to give you, little boy.” The moment the words slipped free, there was what sounded like a scuffle behind me, and a shiver of fear rushed down my spine. Still, I refused to turn to see what was happening.
“Enough,” Rowan warned before turning the music back up and drowning out whatever sounds might come from the backseat.
Once the song ended, Boy Epic’s “Dirty Mind” began filtering through the speakers.
The sultry undertones caused my stomach to clench with need twisting through it sharply. Sinful scenes began playing wickedly within my mind. My body came alive with a ravenous need to be played like guitar strings, thrummed with long, slender fingers until it sang another kind of tune. Unlike when I read or slept, the star of them wasn’t faceless. It was Rowan, and that had my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
Watching him from beneath my lashes, I noted how his hands tightened on the steering wheel. Heat spread to my chest as his steel-colored eyes lowered to my thighs, as if he could sense my traitorous body responding to my overactive imagination. Turning away from him before he noticed the heat searing my face, I squeezed my eyes closed, barely containing a groan of humiliation as my nipples pushed against the bodice of my dress.
“Cold?” There was a taunting tenor to the question, which was followed by masculine amusement in the back seat.
“A little,” I lied. It only made his smile grow more mischievous. Reaching behind him, he pulled a jacket off of the back of his seat before tossing it into my lap. “Thank you.”
I hadn’t expected him to give me his suit jacket, but I’d left my cardigan in the backseat of the rental car. As I slid it on, the scents of sage, bergamot, vetiver and the perfect amount of blackcurrant overtook my senses. The mixture was intoxicating. My lips parted as the propinquity to the scent warred against my senses. It disarmed me, leaving me drifting through an endless wave of lust as wetness built between my thighs.
A visible shiver rushed through me as the inebriating combination took control of my lust. It only took a single glance at Rowan to know he’d been aware of how I’d respond to the concoction of scents he’d knowingly wielded against me. The proof was there, shimmering in his eyes as he bit into his bottom lip. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said he dabbled in alchemy himself.
I was an idiot for not catching the undertones of vetiver mixed with bergamot earlier. Sure, I’d smelled his masculine fragrance when he’d been pressed against me, but my brain had been bombarded with what was happening, then dismissed it easily when his presence overshadowed everything else.
He’d short-circuited my brain and overwhelmed me until I’d been rendered a brain-dead idiot by the intensity of his overwhelming charisma.
“Something wrong, Bishop?”
Wrong? Yes, there were a number of things wrong, but the biggest was that the aphrodisiac was strong enough to have my pussy soaked with anticipation.
It pissed me off to no end since I couldn’t get off tonight. My personal collection of toys was in the car I’d left behind. I blamed that for my temporary moment of lunacy.
“Not at all.” If the fucker wanted to play? I’d step up to the board.
Uncurling my fingers, I slowly gripped the hem of my skirt, then leisurely pulled it up to the crest of my thighs so he could see the soft-pink lace of my panties. Parting my legs, I ran my fingertips over the inside of my thighs. Purposely running them higher on my legs, I pushed my fingertips into my panties and then slid them over my freshly-waxed pussy. Pleasure burst through me at the fainted touch of my fingers against my sex. Worrying my lip with my teeth, a needy whimper vibrated my throat before escaping as a husky moan.
A horn blared, causing Rowan to jerk the car back into the correct lane to avoid a head-on collision, and I gave him an innocent smile.
“Something wrong, Rowan?” I asked in a saccharine voice filled with mock worry.
“Careful, Bishop. You bait the beast, you might bite off more than you’re willing to chew,” he warned in a raspy tone of pure, brutal lust.
