Page 188 of Bishop

“Not nearly enough.” His touch grazes the outline of the injury, gentle enough to make me shiver.

“I’m fine. I can barely feel it.” My problem is the deep throb between my thighs.

“That’s the adrenaline.” He gently prods my stomach. “Tell me how much this hurts.”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

His eyes raise to mine. “You’re breathing heavy.”

“I think we both know that has nothing to do with pain.”

He straightens. “Put your top back on.”

I should. It’s in both our best interests to take the instruction and run. And I would, if only my body would listen. But it’s all caught up in wanting to kiss him. To drown in him. To lick and bite and moan my way out of this adrenaline whirlwind until we’re both sweat-slicked and sated.

“Your top, Abri,” he growls. “Before I do something we both regret.”

Yes. We’d regret it.

It would be distasteful and shameless. Animalistic and wild. Hungered and so goddamn fulfilling.

“I want you,” I murmur.

His lips thin. “You taunt the wrong man, belladonna.”

“I’m not taunting.” My top falls from my fingers, flittering to the floor. “If you’re worried about my suffering, you’re the only cause.”

His jaw ticks. The way he battles with restraint only makes me hotter.

“All I want is a kiss.” Just one touch of his lips. One bite of relief against the slickness building between my thighs. “To hold you against me. You make me feel safe.”

“Fuck, woman. Why do you do this to me?” He palms my ribs, his grip wonderfully harsh.

He infuses me with fire, destructive and uncontainable. “Because I’ve never needed anyone before.”

He breathes through his nose, long, deep, those eyes incredibly stony through his palpable silence.

He’s so handsome. So determined, and vigilant, and merciless.

I want to be consumed by all that power. To be chewed up and spat out in the most delicious way. “Please.”

“Goddamn you.” His mouth smashes down on mine.

I gasp into the contact, his tongue delving deep. He grinds his hips into me, his cock thick and hard against my pubic bone.

“You’ll regret me,” he snarls against my lips.

“No.” I cling to his shoulders, pulling him closer, kissing him with everything I have. “Never.”

“Why does it fucking kill me to deny you?” He clings to me, his calloused hands seeming crazed as they roam my blazing skin. “You’re an affliction.”

“A toxin,” I agree as his fingertips skate over my hips. His palms cup my breasts. His claws dig into my ass.

He groans. Oh, God, how he groans.

“Take off the scarf,” he demands.

I obey, tugging and yanking at the material until it slides from my neck into the ether.

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