Page 229 of Bishop

“Oh, God.” I heave for air, each inhale coming up short.

“Don’t panic.” He cups my cheeks. “Please don’t fucking panic.”

It’s not anxiety that overwhelms me. The frantic gasps are something else.

Hope.

Happiness.

So much unfathomable, earthshaking adoration. “I can’t breathe.”

“I’ll get ice.” He drops my arms, turns, and walks for the kitchen.

“No. I don’t need it.” I grab his hand and pull him back. “I just need you to kiss me.”

42

ABRI

TWO MONTHS LATER

I stare down at the street below. Bishop is in his immaculately tailored suit as he walks from the park, lifting Tilly to sit on his shoulders.

It took her eight daily visits to lose the shyness around the formidable man. Ten more to become obsessed with him.

Now she follows Bishop around like a puppy, climbing over him like he’s a jungle gym when he’s on the sofa, listening intently when he reads her a bedtime story.

His patience is remarkable. His adoration outstanding. His overprotective nature definitely needs to be dialed down a notch, but I’m working on it.

“Obviously Bishop and Tilly are on their way back from the park,” Remy says from the dining table.

I keep staring as the two people who own my heart cross the street below, walking toward the lobby of our building. “Lucky guess?”

“No. The huge smile on your face is telling.”

“I can’t help it.” I turn to face my brother. “They make me happy.”

“And so they should.” He stands hovering over the table, shuffling the scattered legal pages into a pile. “When are you going to take the plunge and let the homicidal maniac spend the night?”

“He can do that whenever he likes.” I walk for the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “He’s the one who’s made all the stipulations.”

He places the stack of papers into an envelope and leaves it on the table. “Do I want to know?”

I shrug and crack open the lid of my bottle. “Probably not.”

He pauses, scrutinizing me. “But you’ve slept together since…”

“Yes, Remy.” I cringe. “I’ve slept with him since that night. Thanks for your concern.”

The first time was the day he returned.

One kiss multiplied into a million more as he consumed me, taking his time to make up for past mistakes while Tilly napped. He stripped the scarf from around my neck to pay homage to his favorite scar, his hands everywhere, his grip possessive as if I’d somehow float away if he let go.

My brother holds up his palms in surrender. “Just doing my brotherly duties to make sure everything between you two is—”

“Everything is great.” I speak over him, then take a sip of water.

Everything in absolutely every aspect of my life is almost perfect.

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