I dip my head closer, giving her every chance to say no, to push me away, to tell me to get lost, and I pause with my lips a mere hairsbreadth from hers. Prepared to stop. Ready to admit defeat where breaking through to her is concerned. But she closes the distance between us and presses her lips to mine.
The kiss is harsh, greedy, like she’s desperate for what I’m offering or terrified that she’ll realize what she’s doing if she gives herself even a moment to think about it.
But Bishop isn’t the type of woman who does anything she isn’t one hundred percent on board with, which is probably what’s really scaring her.
How real this feels.
How much she doesn’t want me to stop.
She runs her hands through my hair, her mouth moving against mine as she shifts under me, trying to press her entire body to mine. I keep a tiny bit of space between us, holding myself up and away from her, but there’s no hiding my hard cock digging into her upper thigh, the way my body responds to having her this close.
“You haven’t answered me, Bishop.” I lick along the seam of her lips, and she groans and digs her nails into the back of my neck. “I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you say ‘yes.’”
More than want it.
I need it.
To confirm she knows exactly what I’m asking for and that she’s freely giving it to me with not just her body, but her mind, too.
Because that’s where she’s trapped.
In her own head.
This idea that she has to be one thing and one thing only.
She gasps as I drag my free hand down between her legs to cup her there, and her hips arch up to grind against my palm. “Yes.”
It’s such a simple word, only three tiny letters, but I know that her saying that took a massive amount of courage.
She’s always taking care of everyone but herself, always thinking about other people, what they need instead of what she does. But this moment is about her. Only her and what I can do to make her soar.
I press the pad of my palm to the apex of her thighs, and she rolls her hips up again, releasing a tiny mewl at the friction it creates in exactly the right spot.
God, that sound…
My blood heats. My hands itch to touch every inch of her skin. My cock aches to be buried inside of her. And I so desperately want to strip her bare and bury my face between her thighs right now.
But while we may be alone out here at the moment, someone could come walking by at any second, could interrupt us and steal this little sliver of time that we have, and I won’t risk that.
The threat is enough to make us frantic.
Knowing it has to be fast.
I fumble with the button on her jeans but manage to pop it free and pull down the zipper. Before I can slide my hand in, she reaches to her hip, lifts her shirt, and grabs a gun from a holster.
The sudden appearance of a firearm should give me pause, but the fact that Bishop is carrying doesn’t surprise me in the least.
I would have been more surprised if she weren’t.
She sets it beside us on the blanket, and now that she’s moved it, I can glide my hand along her hot, smooth skin, spreading my palm out across her stomach and dipping my fingers lower.
Bishop bucks at the contact, grinding even harder against my hand when I reach lower. I capture her mouth with another searing kiss, matching her desperation with my own.
She moans, her hands clinging to the back of my head, her nails digging in there, that small, sharp bite of pain enough to make me crave even more, to need it, and when my fingers finally find her core, it’s a glorious epiphany.
“Christ, Bishop.” I groan against her lips. “So fucking wet.”
I slide a finger easily into her, her body contracting around it the same way I wish it were my cock. It throbs, demanding to be there. But I won’t give in to that desire.
