Page 3 of Secret Sin

“What.

“The.

“Fuck.”

Each savage word punctured the tension-filled air around us with lethal precision.

Bishop slowly brought his blistering stare to mine.

Oh shit.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

This was not going how I’d planned. He knew. He knew exactly what I’d done, and he was livid.

“It’s okay, Bishop. I wanted this. I promise.” I tried to reassure him.

“And what about me, Pippa?” he barked. “Did you stop to think about whetherIwanted this?”

Ouch.

The sexual siren inside me shriveled up like the poor souls inThe Little Mermaidafter striking a deal with the evil sea witch.

I lowered my feet, wincing as he slid out of me, and kept my eyes cast downward. I’d been so eager to finally know what it felt like to be with a man that I hadn’t considered the consequences if I’d been wrong. Bishop’s disgust bathed me in a sticky coating of shame.

“Fuck, that’s not what I meant,” he grumbled. “That’s not how it should have happened, Pippa. Your first time shouldn’t be up against a goddamn wall.” He raked a hand through his hair and scanned the room as if searching for answers. “Fuck it. No going back now, so I might as well do this right.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me back to his bedroom.

I tried not to feel like a misbehaving child, but it was hard not to. I’d deceived him, and I knew it. Guilt somehow whitewashed over every ounce of courage I’d felt minutes earlier, leaving me vulnerable and uncertain.

We stopped at the foot of his masculine king-sized bed. His room was comfortable, even if a little messy. A few pieces of laundry dotted the floor, and his bed wasn’t made, but all the furnishings were expensive, and the décor cohesive. It was refined but lived in. I liked it. A lot.

Bishop faced me and brought a finger up under my bra strap, slowly drifting his touch down to the top of my breast. “How could someone so fucking incredible have never been touched before?”

His question was rhetorical since all of his attention focused on the movement of his fingers. I couldn’t have responded had I wanted to. The intensity of his words and mesmerizing feel of his touch rendered me speechless.

Bishop reached behind me to unclasp my bra—the last article of clothing between us. He didn’t immediately slip it off me. Instead, he brought his fingers up to the thin straps on my shoulders and teased them downward, his hungry stare fixed on each sliver of newly revealed skin until gravity took hold, and the lace fell to the floor.

My nipples puckered impossibly tighter. Breaths grew shallow.

I felt so much more exposed than I had before, and it had nothing to do with my clothes. Everything about this felt different than it had when we’d first entered the apartment. Our sultry playfulness had morphed into something infinitely more poignant. The air itself felt saturated with emotion, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to breathe it in or run for the nearest exit.

“I should tan your ass for pulling a stunt like this, but I suppose you’ve been punished enough.” His eyes lifted to mine, finally softening a fraction. “Are you in any pain?”

I shook my head. “Not anymore.”

He nodded once, then cut his eyes to the bed. “On your back.”

I did as he instructed but hesitated when he lowered himself and motioned for me to spread my knees.

“I’m not sure you want to do that. I may have bled a little.”

Hands on my knees, he opened me wide. “If I didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t.” His lips kissed my inner thigh, working slowly higher with nips and licks that brought a fire raging to life in my belly. “Tell me you’ve at least played with yourself before.”

“Yes. I’m not a prude, just overprotected.”

Teeth nipped at my outer lip for my smart response.

I gasped, my inner muscles clenching tight. “Please, touch me. I need you to touch me,” I panted.

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