My heartbeat picked up.
“Who said anything about that?”
And why would he say it like that?
“I just did.”
I was reading way too much into this to be getting this flustered.
“Is this some kind of dig?”
It had to be. He’d clearly seen my chains from the comments he’d already made, and there was no doubt when he and his staff undressed me, they’d all seen the kind ofintimatesI’d been wearing. None of that was particularly incriminating on its own, but together, it painted a pretty clear picture on what I liked to do in my free time behind closed doors.
Dressing pretty for not just a partner but myself, too.
“What would I be digging at, Bishop?”
Running my tongue along the back of my teeth, I held another comment back and simply said. “Terran.”
His eyes snapped to mine, freezing as he hovered over me.
Déjà vu hit like a train, the almost uncanny parallel to us in the hospital throwing me for a second. The only difference was that here, we had no one to break us apart if things pulled into that same tension-filled position.
Not unless Amelia suddenly stomped through the door, demanding to know why there was a hundred thousand dollar car sitting in our driveway.
Swallowing, I said, “You’re making fun of me.”
Without having him this up close, I never would’ve noticed the way his eyes narrowed slightly, just enough for the muscles under them to twitch from the motion. His pupils were pinholes,glaring into mine with enough intensity to steal the breath from my lungs.
“What would I be making fun of exactly?”
“You know what,” I muttered, my voice gruff.
What would happen if I reached out to touch him?
Ran my hand along his cheek to see if his skin was as smooth as it looked this up close?
Would he slap my hand away before shoving back and disappearing out the door to my room as quickly as he’d come, or would he lean into it, curious to see where things went?
My heart was latched on to the latter like a fool, sick with desire for a man I hardly knew but for some reason continued to pull me in despite his terse attitude.
What was it about a personality that clashed with mine that I found so attractive?
Maybe the small glimpses of who he was past it were what was making me cling onto this attachment, hoping for another hit that I was sure to ride on until I saw him again.
My lips parted in surprise the second he pushed back my shirt to cup his long fingers against my waist.
“This, you mean.” He squeezed. “What I took.”
“What you threw away,” I countered.
At this point, the sting of losing my chains had long since passed, shifting toward acceptance and moving on. There would be a time where I could buy another set, maybe even two as a fucking backup.
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
My heart stuttered.
Did he even know what that meant?
