Page 108 of Bishop

“You’re right.” I throw back the covers, resigned to spending the night in my room, cuddled up with my demons.

“Stay.” His hand latches around my arm.

The adrenaline lessens, but I’m left trembling for other reasons.

If I were a stronger woman, his touch wouldn’t stop me from doing the right thing and walking out of here. Unfortunately, I’m still a pitiful fool, clinging for any form of comfort.

“We both know it’s not a good idea for me to stay,” I whisper.

“It’s only to curb the panic.” He tugs me down to the mattress, his strength guiding me to spoon against his chest. “To stop the shaking.” His arm drapes over my waist, holding me tight. “I’m a son of a bitch, but it doesn’t mean I want you spiraling into hysteria out there on your own.”

I should tell him I’m not on the brink of an attack. That I tremble for different reasons. Only the words don’t form. Not those ones, anyway.

“What a gentleman.” I glide my hand over his, my heart skipping a beat when he opens his palm to mine, allowing me to thread our fingers together.

“I’m no gentleman, Abri. Never forget I’m a butcher.”

“You forgot I was a siren,” I counter.

“I didn’t forget. I just fell victim.”

I wince into the darkness, his palm warm against my chemise.

“I don’t like being bait, belladonna.” He trails his hand in circles along my belly, slow, almost romantic in the exquisite softness. “But denying you is impossible.”

“You weren’t bait. Tell me you know that.” I dance my fingers between his, our fingertips waltzing between the sheets. It’s such a simple touch. Basic. Yet the sensation sinks through to my nerve endings, tingling all the way to my bones.

“I know this is a mistake,” he speaks against the back of my neck. “I can either help find your daughter. Or we can spend our days fooling around. There’s no room for both.”

“Why?” The needy question escapes without consent.

“Because I can’t focus on what matters when all the blood in my brain has travelled to my dick.”

I wish I could laugh through the pang in my chest.

He knows there’s no choice. My craving for proximity doesn’t stand a chance when pitted against Tilly’s future.

“You fuck with my head,” he adds. “I’m no use to you if all I’m doing is biding time, thinking about the ways I can make you come.”

I swallow, my nipples beading painfully against my nightwear. “Then maybe I should go to my room.”

“No.” His hand becomes an adamant force against my belly. “Tonight you stay here. At least until the fear subsides.”

“It wasn’t—”

“Even if for a few moments, you feared me, belladonna. And although it pains me to admit, I didn’t enjoy it as much as I would’ve liked.”

“How much did you enjoy it?” I whisper into the darkness.

His mouth finds my shoulder blade, his lips pressing into my skin as he speaks. “I’ve never hated anything more.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to kill temptation before it takes hold.

“Don’t fear me, Abri. Not physically anyway. I could never intentionally hurt you like that.”

“But you could hurt me in other ways?”

“I will. Without a doubt. Emotionally. Psychologically. I’m not a man built for companionship.”

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