Page 89 of Deceit

“I’ll dance with little Emmy if she wants to,” Bishop replies, surprising the absolute shit out of me. “It’s her day, after all.”

Both of their gazes fall on me, waiting for me to reply, and I feel my cheeks flush. The room is suddenly too hot, and I need to stop telling Mills so much.

“Sure.” I shrug my shoulder, attempting to appear unaffected. But it quickly fades when Bishop reaches for my hand and laces our fingers intimately.

Without a word, he turns us towards the small dance floor made up where my family’s overly-priced couches usually are.

When he finds a spot he likes, Bishop mindlessly wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me flush against his hard body so that I can’t escape the smell of nutmeg and leather on his skin.

“I’m surprised you came home,” he says as we begin to move. My Prada heels give me the perfect view of his neck and the dark beard that blankets his jaw.

My mouth practically waters because I, on an annoying instinct, want to wrap my lips around that sensitive part of his body. To hear his deep growl in my ear when I lick and tease with his hard cock into my stomach.

My pussy clenches at how bottomless and husky his voice would get when he’s turned on. How he permits every animalistic sound to escape his throat, alluding to how turned on he is.That he’s going to break through at any given moment to fuck me into the nearest surface.

Yeah, I’m the Usher remix ofYou Got It Bad.

“I am too,” I reply. “I wish I hadn’t.” I steal a quick glance up at him, finding him already looking down at me. “I’m surprised you came.”

“Not yet,” he deadpans, his blue eyes commencing a path down my pink dress.

My cheeks flush the same color for the second time as I steel my body against the warmth in his attention. “You could’ve brought me a drink if you were going to stress me out.”

“I stress you out?” He tips his eyes to align with mine. “How’s that?”

“This isn’t… your scene.”

“What gave that away, Ems?”

You’ll Never Knowby Bing Crosby plays off the speakers of the party, and Bishop begins swaying side to side to the baritone and vibrato voice of the world’s most recognizable singer.

This is like a scene in one of the old movies that I love to watch. The simplicity of love and way of life. Where there were no cell phones or men being complete douchebags day in and out. When men wanted you to know if they cared instead of hiding behind shit.

“When was the last time you danced in middle school?”

“Junior prom,” he replies.

My brows immediately knit. “With Camilla.”

“I’m full of surprises, Emmy Lou Rhodes.” He tightens his hold on me, his thumb lightly brushing my back in slow and soothing strokes. “I was actually able to get a girl to like me.”

“No, the shocker is that someone was able to get you to actually go. I couldn’t even get you to agree to go to the zoo with me.

“You wanted to steal the new baby panda. And with your connections and skills, I was afraid you’d actually pull it off.” He shrugs. “Besides, going to the dance was to pass the time.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And for the afterparty.”

“And I’m sure the sex.” I don’t bother to hide the displeasure of that aspect in my tone because I knew who he’d be having sex with.

A random bitch from high school, I wouldn’t give a shit. But the woman he fought for, who he tried to support and possibly loved—yeah, no.

Maybe I’ll go back and kill Camilla my damn self. Just make her ass disappear. The boys do dumb ass stuff all the time.

“I didn’t need a dance for that.” His hands slide down the sides of my back and halt right above my ass. “Although, I never dated a Varsity cheerleader.”

No, you married one.

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