It would be impossible not to.
The strange buzz of electricity that crackles between us whenever we’re together is a physical manifestation of what I’ve been feeling inside since that first night at the club.
And how she’s acting now feels more like a defense mechanism than actual anger at seeing me again.
She may not fully trust me, but she’s also attracted to me.
That pisses her the fuck off.
Giving her my most innocent smile, I shake my head. “I’m not stalking you, Bishop.”
“Oh, yeah?”
I tug off my helmet, tossing it into my bag before leaning in toward her slightly, not even caring that I am dripping with sweat. “If I were stalking you, you would never know it.”
Instead of being shook or frightened by my half-joking statement, Bishop stands her ground yet again and merely raises a dark brow. “Pretty confident in yourself, aren’t you?”
You have no idea…
Confidence has never been my problem.
Mine lies in my self-control—or lack thereof. Standing here right now being a prime example of that.
Each time I see her, I promise myself it will be the last, yet I can barely make it a week without finding an excuse to be in her orbit.
I shrug as I turn away to dig in my bag and grab a towel to wipe off the sweat trickling across my brow and down my chest. Bishop’s gaze follows the movement, her eyes tracing over the ink covering my pecs, stomach, and arms, taking in every dot of it with rapt attention until they finally fall to where the V of my abs disappears into my boxing shorts.
“My eyes are up here, Hellcat.”
Her head whips up, her eyes narrowing and flashing with that fierce anger I’ve seen before and somehow crave. “What’d you call me?”
I smirk at her. “You heard me.”
She scowls, pointing a finger squarely in my chest. “You don’t get to call me that.” Her finger whips toward Atlas. “He barely gets to call me that while keeping his head. You sure as hell won’t.”
Chuckling, I retreat a step, instantly missing the feel of her skin against mine—even if it was only one fingertip.
I snag my T-shirt and tug it on over my head. “You are a feisty one, aren’t you?”
Her hackles only seem to rise more at my observation, but I don’t mean it in a bad or condescending way.
Far from it.
Bishop’s fire and the way she’s constantly throwing everything back at me only makes this little game of ours more fun. I push and she pushes back harder. It’s nearly impossible to walk away from the enjoyment it brings me, even if it does drag danger along with it.
I run my hand through my sweat-soaked hair. “If you want me to stop coming to the club, or here to work out, all you have to do is ask and I will.”
The twist of her perfect lips tells me she doesn’t believe me. “That easy, huh?”
I throw my bag over my shoulder and nod. “That easy.”
While flirting with Bishop has become a favorite pastime, I also know it would be far better for both of us if I stayed away. Her asking me to do just that would make it a much easier proposition. Because as it stands now, I keep drifting toward this woman despite the current of sanity flowing in the opposite direction.
Her gaze shifts over to where Astrid and Atlas are watching us intently. She inclines her head toward the ring. “He any good?”
Atlas leans on the ropes and laughs. “I’m kind of terrified to answer that question.”
“Why?”
