Page 231

And I know one thing with absolute certainty.

One night with Delaney Beckett is never going to be enough.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

BISHOP

Ilean down and capture her lips.

Laney’s fingers curl around the back of my neck, and I feel her smile against my mouth before she kisses me again.

I settle between her legs, bracing myself on one elbow while my free hand brushes the hair from her face. The city casts a pale glow across her cheeks, catching the faint freckles scattered over her nose. She's watching me with those hypnotizing green eyes.

“Stop thinking,” she whispers.

I smile. “Bossy.”

“Learned from the best.”

“Smartass.”

She reaches for me again. I meet her halfway, letting the kiss linger before moving to her cheek, then the delicate curve of her jaw. She tilts her head as my lips find the side of her neck and work down the slender curve of her shoulder. When my lips skim lower over the tops of her breasts, her fingers tighten against my biceps.

I pause. “Good?”

“Very.”

I smile against her skin. “Just checking.”

“Keep checking, but maybe– uh. Lower.” She whispers.

I chuckle and press a kiss on her sternum. “Moving too slow for you, Becks?”

“A little.” She wiggles underneath me making my dick twitch.

“Let’s see what we can do about that then.” I lean over and take one nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue over the delicate little peak before moving on the other one and repeating the motions. She tastes fucking incredible, like vanilla and honey.

Her breathing changes, a little quicker now, and when I lift my head, she's watching me with an expression I've never seen before.

It makes something tighten in my chest.

Because I know Delaney.

I know the way she bites her lip when she's trying not to laugh. How she wrinkles her nose when she's concentrating. How her whole face lights up when she talks about a book she loves.

But this? This is new. And I want to remember every second of seeing pleasure written across her face knowing I’m the author.

“You okay?”

She nods. Then laughs softly. “You're really going to ask me that every five minutes, aren't you?”

“Probably.”

She slides her hand along my jaw. “I'm okay, Bishop.”

I catch her hand and kiss her palm. “Good.”

Meanwhile, I'm having a hard time remembering what my life looked like before she moved into it.