Page 156 of Bishop

I fight a whimper, desperate to place my lips against his. “Well, you realize there’s this remarkable invention called contraception, right? Have you heard of it?”

“Yeah, belladonna, I have. Had you before you fell pregnant with your daughter?”

Ouch.

He holds me tighter through the direct hit to my bad judgment. “Mistakes happen, Abri. But they won’t with me. I refuse to allow it.”

“Point taken.” I scramble for another topic to wash away the horrid taste in my mouth. “Tell me about your parents. What are they like?”

His hand pauses its perfect touch. “They’re not up for discussion.”

There’s coldness in his words. Trauma that could dance with mine.

“Surely they can’t be worse than Emmanuel and Adena.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Where are they now?” I ask.

Silence.

“Do you talk to them? Do they know what you do for a living?”

“Abri—”

“Please,” I beg, somehow needing answers from him more than my next breath. “I want to know you. To understand you.” To see if we have anything in common.

“Not this part of me you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.” I place a hand to his chest, my eyes on his through the darkness. “You’ve dragged all my secrets from me. Why can’t I have some of yours?”

“We both know I’ve barely brushed the surface when it comes to learning all the intricacies of the profoundly secretive Abri Costa.” He trails his hand from my back to my hair, running his fingers through the loose strands. “Trust me, you don’t want to hear about this slice of my history. I’d prefer you kept the false assumption that I have a soul.”

“Have they passed?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “A long fucking time ago.”

There’s no compassion in his voice. It only makes me hungrier for more information.

Did he hate them? Despise them? Want them dead?

Another deep huff pushes past his lips as he drags his hand away from me and rolls onto his back. “I’m the reason they’re no longer breathing. Now let’s leave it at that and call it quits on story time.”

“Seriously? You can’t give me bread crumbs and leave my imagination to run wild.” I slide my palm onto his chest, up to his neck, then his jaw, gently guiding his face back toward mine. “Tell me what happened or I’ll be left thinking the worst.”

“That’s exactly what you need to think, Abri.” He rolls away, scooting to the edge of the mattress to sit up. “I need a beer. Want me to get you one?”

“No.” I scramble to grab his arm as he stands. “Stay. Talk to me. Please.”

“As fun as that sounds—”

“I’m begging you.” I tug his wrist. “And you know how much I loathe begging.”

“I know you well enough to understand you’ll do whatever it takes to get what you want, and it’s working. I don’t talk about this shit to anyone.”

“I don’t talk about myself to anyone either.” I drag my thumb along his wrist. “Anyone but you.”

“Goddamn, you’re so brilliantly manipulative,” he groans.

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