Page 136 of Bishop

Still no answer.

She lowers her gaze, breaking eye contact.

“It’s okay. I know I deserve to be denied.”

She winces. But again, she offers no words.

It’s unlike her. She usually holds the Olympic title for how fast she snaps snarky retorts.

“What is it?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”

Her gaze returns to mine.

“I want you to kiss me like you don’t hate me,” she whispers. “And I need it to be because you want it, not because you have to shut me up.”

I outstretch my hand, gently palming her throat, her rabid pulse fluttering under my fingertips as I breathe her in. “God, how I want to hate you, Abri.” I lean so close our noses brush. “That would make things so much easier.”

I bridge the space between us, the brush of our lips soft.

Fuck.

I’ve never done this. Not slow. Not tender.

It’s so far out of character I feel like an imposter. A ruthless murderer playing a nauseating Prince Charming. Yet I can’t quit.

My chest pounds with each velvety brush of her mouth against mine, the tiny whimper she releases sinking all the way into my bloodstream.

I want more.

More than sweet and compassionate.

More than restrained and timid.

I want to decimate this woman. To destroy her with the force of my hunger. To nip and bite and scrape. I want to break the rules I made for myself. To sink my dick inside her. To thrust so hard the feel of me never leaves her memory.

I want her screaming my name. Her fingers digging into my back. Her nails drawing blood.

She whimpers again, her hips tilting forward, her pubic bone brushing my shaft.

It takes everything I have not to haul her off the ground and throw her on the bed.

“Abri.” I break the kiss, clutching the free hand at my side in a tight fist of restraint as I rest my forehead against hers. “Someone is on the other side of that door.”

She swallows, her throat working in overdrive against my palm. “I don’t care. Keep distracting me. Give me something I can cling to.”

“If I distract you the way I want, your brothers will kill me.”

“Maybe that’s my preferred outcome.”

I smirk, pulling back to meet her gaze. “You want me dead, belladonna?”

“Sometimes.” Her voice is solemn.

I fight to remain smug when what I’ve put her through has me feeling like shit. “Forgive me.”

She winces again, the turmoil in her eyes a stab through my chest as she turns her head away.

“What’s wrong? Forgiveness not in your skill set?” I trail my hand around the back of her neck. “It’s okay. I don’t deserve that either.”

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