Page 109 of Bishop

“Tell me why?” I ask. “Why don’t you have sex? Why don’t you kiss? Share your baggage with me. I already shared mine.”

“You didn’t willingly share anything. If given the choice, your vulnerabilities would’ve remained hidden.”

“So it’s vulnerability you hide?”

“Any information can be a vulnerability if used in the right way.”

I sigh. “I guess that means you’re not going to tell me. Is there no trust between us?”

“Why would there be?” His tone isn’t cruel. Merely factual. Blatantly honest.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Maybe because you’ve had certain parts of your body in explicit parts of mine, and that news wouldn’t be welcomed to my brothers or uncle. You must trust me enough not to snitch on you…because I definitely could.”

He huffs a laugh, his fingers curling into claws against my stomach. “You blackmailing me?”

“Maybe,” I add a playful lilt to my tone. “What would it get me?”

“A one-way ticket to the bottom of a six-foot hole.”

I smile. It’s just another form of stupidity, but his smug aggression does funny things to me. “I thought you said you’d never hurt me like that.”

He nuzzles my shoulder blade, scraping his teeth against the bone. “There’s always a caveat, and self-preservation is at the top of that list.”

“Then maybe there’s a caveat to us fooling around?” I roll toward him, keeping his fingers clutched between us, the outline of his shadowed silhouette staring back at me.

“No.”

“Even though you want to?”

He raises my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “Even though I’m dying to.”

I always thought nothing would come close to the agonizing yearning I feel for my daughter’s safety. But the current way I ache for Bishop nudges toward that sensation, the wrenching squeeze decimating my insides.

“I can tear the skin off screaming men without remorse, Abri. Yet touching you feels like a crime worthy of damnation.”

I shake my head. “I don’t understand why.”

“Neither do I.” He kisses my knuckles again, then slides his hand to my hip, gently guiding me onto my back. “Roll over. It’s time you got some sleep.”

And that’s exactly what I do—sleep—never feeling safer than while locked in the arms of a murderer.

I’m the first to wake, the sun bleeding through the curtains, his body still spooned against mine.

He’ll reject me today. The bright light of morning will illuminate his regret and I’ll be plastered with the same label every other man has given me after a heated affair.

I’ll be a mistake. A massive error in judgment.

There’s no doubt in my mind.

My stomach churns, dreading the moment history repeats itself for the millionth time. But I’ll get over it. I have to for Tilly’s sake.

I gently scoot out from beneath his arm and slide from the mattress.

He grumbles and rolls to his other side. “Don’t think about touching that tire. If you run, I’ll hunt you down.”

I pause at the end of the bed, his threat not invoking the response he’s looking for. It’s not a deterrent to be chased. To have him consider my safety such a concern that I’m hunted for my own protection only brings a thrill.

“I won’t.” I walk for the door. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

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