Page 22 of Ravaged By Lust

Bishop shrugs. “I like to work hard. What’s wrong with that? If I’m doing something, I might as well be my very best at it.”

“I like that about you,” I reply.

“And your focus is what I like about you,” he says. “You really want to be a rockstar.”

“I just want to play my guitar and sing,” I reply bluntly.

“You really care about your music, don’t you?”

“Yep. Did I win those quick-fire questions, then?”

Bishop smiles. His dimples kill me. “I think so.”

I wink at him. “Does that mean you lose?”

“Oh,” he says, his voice lowering to a sexy purr. “I never lose, Chloe.”

He kisses me. I close my eyes and surrender myself to his warmth. I’m beginning to savor every kiss with this man.

He’s strong, confident, and smart. Also damn funny. He makes me feel like the only woman in the world. What else could a girl want?

I feel like I’ve hit some kind of invisible jackpot.

Knock, knock.

Someone’s at my door, and everything turns into panic.

“Chloe…”

It’s Axel’s voice on the other side.

“Axel? What is it?” I ask, concealing my sudden horror.

“Is everything okay? I can hear voices?”

I turn to Bishop and whisper sharply to him. “Get out.”

“You don’t need to say that twice,” he replies soundlessly as he leaps out from my bed and through the open window.

“Maybe you should go see a doctor if you’re hearing voices,” I say to my brother.

“So funny, Chloe. I’m coming in.”

Typical Axel to barge in whenever he feels like it…

The door opens, and I pray to whoever’s listening that Bishop’s escaped in time. Axel’s eyes dart from the open window to me in my bed.

“What do you want, Axel?”

“You’re in bed already?” he asks. By the look on his face, I think – I hope - he doesn’t suspect a thing. Especially not his best friend having just been in here.

I hope. I hope. I hope.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with getting some beauty sleep?”

He ignores all semblance of my privacy and sits down on the edge of my bed. “I want to show you a song I’ve been working hard at.”

Before I can answer, he glances back at the window. His eyes narrow. I’ve lived with my stupid brother long enough to know that he’s starting to think.