“Definitely the alcohol.”
I smiled. “Or maybe it’s the fact that despite my best efforts to be utterly repulsed by you and everything you do?—”
“Ouch.”
I smacked his arm. “Will you stop interrupting me? That’s rude!”
“Nope. I can’t,” he said. My breath caught as he lifted his gaze to mine.
“Why not?” I asked.
A muscle in his jaw fluttered as he answered. “Because that’s the only thing stopping me from telling you to move your hand. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do, but I’m feeling selfish tonight.”
“You should be selfish.” I moved my hand back to his thigh, squeezing slightly.
“Lennox…” he warned. “We can’t go down this road again. You’re too young?—”
“I’m a legally consenting adult.”
“You’re drunk.”
“So are you,” I said, leaning forward in my seat. “So is everyone else here.”
“That doesn’t make this any better. Remember the last time?—”
“Don’t you wanna know what I taste like?” I whispered. Bishop’s eyes flared, watching as I trailed my fingers up his leg. “You didn’t get the chance before, did you? I bet you’ve been dreaming of it, huh?”
“Christ, you don’t play fair,” he bit out. “You’re a fucking brat who is used to getting your way.”
I smirked. “Sure am.”
He raised a brow. “And you think this is gonna work? That you’re gonna get me to give in and break all the rules for you? You must not know me well enough. My control is unwavering.”
I glanced down at his crotch, where the outline of his very hard dick was visible through his jeans. “Doesn’t look like you’re the one in control anymore.”
I tried to move my hand, but he shot out, quickly gripping my wrist. “You think I’m not in control?” he asked, smirking when I nodded. “That’s cute. Killer, I could have you bent over this table, begging to be fucked if I wanted to. And before you try to tell me no, tell me this instead… If I reached between those sweet thighs, would I find your panties soaked? Your cunt aching to be touched? Would you give me those desperate little whimpers you gave me the first time I touched you?”
I tried to stifle my moan as I shifted forward to put pressure on my clit. It was, in fact, needing the contact. It’d been too long since I’d been with someone who wasn’t powered by batteries. He was talking to me like my parents weren’t standing nearby, which was ridiculously hot.
The way Bishop looked at me, knowing he was right, was enough to make me give in.
“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Bishop ordered, sitting back in his chair. He looked cool, calm, and collected—like we were discussing the weather or something incredibly mundane.
“That I’ll beg if you ask me to,” I said without hesitation, keeping my voice low. “That I’ll get on my knees right here and now?—”
Bishop looked away, and I let my words falter. My stomach sank, embarrassment creeping in hard and fast like it had the morning I’d woken up in an empty bed. It wasn’t a feeling I was accustomed to, especially not when it came to sex. I was used to getting my way both in and out of the bedroom. With Bishop, it seemed to be my default setting—like I was always one step away from either wanting to burn his cabin to the ground or bury myself in a hole to hide.
Before I could backpedal, he spoke. “I didn’t say to stop,” he said, tone stern. “And I don’t want you on your knees.”
“Where do you want me, then?” I asked, licking my lips.
Bishop leaned forward, bracing his elbow on the table. He opened his mouth but quickly shut it as screams rang out from the dance floor. We both jerked our heads toward the commotion, rising out of our seats to see what was happening.
I couldn’t make anything out over the rapidly forming crowd. Was there an accident? Was someone hurt? As someone shouted for an ambulance, I hoped the fear creeping up my spine was wrong. Someone probably twisted an ankle, that’s all.
And then the band stopped, cutting the music just as a single wailing cry pierced the air. A sound I would recognize anywhere.
“No, no, no,” I said, pressing my hand to my heart as if it could stop it from breaking.
