Page 268 of Deceit

“Because Mills is talking to Scarlett,” I fill in. “And Bishop’s gonna have his ass.”

Blue shakes her head. “Mills won’t touch that.” Kyson and I both look over at her as if she knows a secret. “Just a feeling. Ems, why don’t you go relieve your man. He’s staring at you like he’s gonna come in his pants if you don’t—“

“Dude,” Kyson censures with slitted eyes. “The fuck?”

I look over his shoulder to find Bishop stealing a glance at me. His blue eyes melting me right to my chair.

In nothing but jeans and a red plaid shirt, he’s the poster for rough and an unpolished man who just got done chopping wood or some shit like any normal day. Not the killer who resides underneath his skin. And if he wasn’t mine already, I’d be figuring out a way how he could be right now.

“Wanna hold Alaric?” I ask Blue, surprising the shit out of her because she just stares at me like I told her we were related or something. “Before they can walk?”

Blue snaps out of it. “Yeah, yeah.” She holds out her arms, and I cradle my son, still sucking on his bottle into hers.

“Be back.”

I round Kyson’s chair and make my way over to the rugged male who watches my every move in his direction.

His gaze shamelessly falls down the length of my white floral dress and sandals, creating my body to flush pink and up a few temps.

I feel utterly beautiful and powerful in his eyes. The most compelling creature in the world that only he wants all the time. He makes it his singular job to make up for the years that I didn’t believe he loved me. I hear it at least twice a day, his hands are on me all the time, and his attentiveness to the twins is unprofound.

Bishop hands his horseshoes to his brother and marches in my direction, keeping his heavy focus on me. And when we meet in the middle, he slowly shakes his head at me.

“Why do we have to invite people over when we both know you’re going to dress up, and I have a hard time containing myself not to rip it off. It’s torture.”

“I must be hanging around Marty too much,” I surmise with a smile. “You know that everyone is aware that we’re together. Youcantouch me.”

“Not in the way I want to,” he gripes, almost pouts.

“Do you have a bedtime?” I tease, stepping closer to him and smelling his sexy as fuck cologne of nutmeg and weed. “Because there’s always later.”

“I just need five minutes.”

I chuckle. “I doubt—“

“Hey, Mills,” Bishop calls out, still locking eyes with me. “You need some cheese for the burgers?”

“No, I got—“

“I’ll get you some.” Bishop seizes my hand and laces his fingers with mine, tugging me along with him towards the sliding door leading into the kitchen.

Once inside, I’m prey.

I’m in Bishop’s clutches, ass on the kitchen counter—apparently this is our spot—and his back to anyone who could be coming up this way.

“Be the lookout, baby,” he mutters, messing with his jeans before his lips slam into mine.

How does this man expect me to focus let alone watch out for anybody who might slide this door open?

“Bishop, unless you want your ass to be the main event, you better move us.”

He growls. “My luck it’d be Marty.” Lifting me again, we end up in his room, the door not so subtly slammed behind him while he stalks us both to his bed.

My dress is lifted, his lips are on my inner thighs, and I’m squirming under his touch before I can release a full exhale.

“If you keep this up,” I breathe. “You’re gonna get tired of me.” He bites the inside of my thigh, and I squeal.

“Don’t talk shit you can’t back up, Emmy Lou.”

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