Ruthless Bishop: Dark New Adult High School Bully Romance (Sinners and Saints Book 3)

by Veronica Eden

“Fuck, Connor,” I breathe, reaching back to hold on to his hair as I roll my hips to meet his thrusts.

  “You like that?” Connor rasps in my ear, squeezing my breasts. He bites the shell of my ear and drops a hand to my clit. “Right there?”

  My entire body shakes as my core convulses with pleasure, cresting over my body in waves of ecstasy. I’m delirious and flying high with his arms locked around me. It feels perfect.

  Connor groans in my ear and I feel him twitch deep inside my body. He hugs me close, not letting me go for a second as we come back to earth.

  “Fucking amazing,” he murmurs in my hair, caressing my skin with the tips of his fingers. Gathering me in his arms, he takes me to the bed and kisses my forehead before ducking into the bathroom. A minute later, he comes out and climbs in with me. “Come here. You okay? I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He smooths my hair back, taking stock of a spot on my neck he probably left a hickey on. “Are you sore? We can get in the shower or the hot tub if you are.”

  Shaking my head, I snuggle into his embrace. “No. Just want to lay like this.”

  “You’ve got it.” He kisses the top of my head and holds me tight.

  I fall asleep with his fingers combing through my hair, my head resting on his chest, feeling blissed out.

  Twenty-Two

  Connor

  A few days later, I can’t take the shit in my house anymore. Damien keeps arguing with Mom about the benefit “incident”. He means that Mom put on her happy wife mask. Get over it, bro.

  Dad’s been scarce, most likely off with the librarian from school he’s been spending time with, making the house feel like the inevitable train wreck we’ve all been barreling toward: Damien and Mom getting married. That’s what she keeps promising him, anyway.

  Damien as my stepdad? No fucking thank you.

  It’s after one in the morning and they’re at each other’s throats. I have half a mind to stomp to the master bedroom and tell them I have school in the morning.

  Their shouts filter past my bedroom door and drown out the music I’m blasting. Jesus. I shake my head, entering a new file in my encrypted program full of people’s secrets, adding an old incident report of Landry’s friend with the leather jacket, Fox Wilder.

  “The fuck kind of name is Fox?” I mutter, swigging from my near-empty can of Coke as I input the data.

  Holden’s dad coughed it up when I pressured him to run a search or I’d start letting his skeletons out of the closet. It didn’t turn up much. My access and leverage only extend to the Ridgeview Police Department he heads. There’s a report on a car accident that killed his parents and landed little Fox Wilder in the foster care system, whisking him away from Ridgeview at a young age. The rest of the files are sealed or missing, which is weird. I only put a medium amount of effort in before I give up.

  Whatever, I have enough to shake him down if he ever steps out of line with me. With that leather jacket and the giant chip on his shoulder, it’s only a matter of time before he stirs trouble in this town.

  “You’re making me crazy, Vivian!” Damien screams. “I’ve put my entire career at risk because I love you, and you’re acting like that’s nothing.”

  Mom’s response is muffled by the heavy beat drop on the song playing on my speakers, thank god.

  “Why are we still waiting for this? Why am I always the one sneaking around like your mistress? I thought you were in love with me!” Damien wails. Actually full on bleats, the sound of his betrayed misery like some dying animal. Maybe this will be their breaking point. “Divorce isn’t going to ruin your political career!”

  All right, screw this. I’m not staying in here. I’ll head out back to smoke until they’ve worked out their shit. I know from sickening experience that the bigger their blowouts, the more frenzied their makeup sex is.

  No one should have to listen to their mom like that, let alone walk in on it like I did when I first discovered them. It’s fucking gross.

  I can’t wait to save up enough to move out. My trust fund inheritance from granddad won’t pay out for a while, but I’ve got my thumb in a bunch of pies. I won’t wait around. I’ll do anything I can to get the hell away from my mother’s chain leash. The bitcoin investments are growing, and I’ve been dabbling in learning how to make an app. After I saw Thea’s vulnerable security on her computer network, I’ve been thinking about creating something for desktop and mobile that will protect the same secrets I mine for.

  “We’re not having this discussion again,” Mom snaps as I head downstairs on my way to the back door.

  Damien’s shouts follow me when I slip out back with a joint, my head pounding. I should leave the back door open so their argument can wake up the whole neighborhood.

  Sprawling on a lounge chair, I sigh in relief as I light up, taking a deep drag on the joint. I fold an arm behind my head and play around with making the smoke curl into shapes. As the high sets in, I relax.

  I pull my phone out, the joint dangling from my lips as I text Devlin, sending him a GIF of a sad frog in black and white with the lyrics from Simon & Garfunkel’s The Sound of Silence to convey my despair.

  Connor: Darkness is my only friend. [skull emoji]

  Devlin doesn’t answer, but I’m not surprised. He got Blair Davis to move in with him. I have no idea how he went from dangling dollar bills on fishing wire in front of her at the beginning of school to living with her, but that’s where they’re at. Grumpy bastard is probably balls deep in her, so I tuck my phone away and finish the joint.

  My gaze trails to Thea’s house and I sit up, surprised to see a light on. I didn’t think she’d be up this late.

  With a lopsided smile, I stalk across her yard, keeping to the shadows as I creep around. The back door is unlocked when I test it. Sneaking in drives away my melancholy, the mischief putting my mood in high spirits. The smell of warm sugar hits me and I almost groan.

  Around the corner, Thea is a delicious mess, covered in flour and dough as she presses a cookie cutter to a slab of cookie dough. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a bun, she has tight spandex shorts on that make her ass look divine, and a loose pink cropped t-shirt. I pause to watch her, my captured sun bathed in moonlight. The light I chased and caught for a few stolen moments.

  “Boo,” I say, laughing when she jumps with a strangled shriek.

  “Connor, what the hell,” Thea hisses, flashing a look at the ceiling where her mom probably is. She flutters her messy hands over her shirt, letting out an embarrassed laugh. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  A deep boof sounds and I lift my hands as her rottweiler charges into the room, heading straight for me.

  Shit. Maybe sneaking in wasn’t my best idea when she’s got an attack dog protecting her.

  Twenty-Three

  Thea

  My heart is still racing from the jump scare of Connor sneaking into my house in the middle of the night, like some dark prince of depravity.

  “Con, wait,” I say.

  Constantine halts, huffing at Connor.

  “Thank you. Bed.” The dog lets out a lazy rumble, sniffing Connor’s hand as he lowers it to his side, before trotting back to his bed in the corner. “Good boy.”

  “You mean me, sunshine?” Connor gives me a grin that’s all bad boy on his handsome face and traps me against the high counter of the island, arms planted on either side. A thrill shoots through my stomach. He buries his face in my neck, inhaling deeply. “Mm, you smell like fresh baked cookies.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m making. And no, you’re not a good boy.” I smack his hand as he tries to steal a cookie from the cooling rack. “Those are for the French club.”

  “But I’ve got the munchies, and your baking is the best.” Pointing to the dog, he wrinkles his brow. “You named your dog after me? Something you want to tell me? Like a crush you’ve been nursing on your sexy neighbor for years?”

  “Wipe that smug look off your face. His name is Constantine, not Connor.” I
go back to cutting my dough with my set of Paris-themed cookie cutters while Connor goes over to the dog, petting him. When I look back up a few minutes later, he has Constantine on his back, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he gives him a belly rub. “Traitor.”

  Connor chuckles and returns to my side, sneaking pieces of cookie dough scraps as I get the next batch in the oven.

  “What are you doing in here, anyway? It’s late.”

  Connor shrugs. “Saw your light on. Missed my girl.”

  He shoots me a charming smile, but a tightness lingers around his eyes. I offer him a cookie from the sad pile, and his expression turns more genuine as he takes a bite.

  “Oh, god, yes.” Connor moans, wrapping me in his arms as he chews. “So good. You should totally make special brownies. We’ll get baked and it’ll be delicious.”

  I snort, wriggling out of his arms to get started mixing another batch of dough to pop in the refrigerator before I take out the dough currently chilling.

  “What are you doing up so late? You said goodnight two hours ago.”

  I shrug as I measure out the ingredients into a big mixing bowl. “Couldn’t sleep. Baking helps clear my head.”

  “I know something else that’ll help you sleep,” Connor says, planting himself behind me, teasing my arms with tickling touches. He runs his nose up and down the back of my neck, distracting me. His tongue swipes across my skin and he presses his hips against mine so I can feel him, drawing a gasp from me. “Works like a charm.”

  “I have to finish these.”

  “Can I help?” Connor picks up the rolling pin, wielding it like a sword instead of a baking tool.

  “Here, you can mix this.” I set him up with one of the bowls and start another so I can chill more dough at once.

  We work in comfortable quiet for a while. Having Connor here is nice, like I’m letting him into my haven, but he’s more of a hindrance than actual help. He keeps stealing kisses and eating the dough, and he’s much messier than I am. But his muscles come in handy for mixing, since the one thing I don’t have is a standing mixer. I’m having a good time with him anyway as we murmur over batches of rolled out dough.

  I like this. I like who Connor is here, in the moonlight. He’s more real with me alone in the dark, but at school he’s still the vicious king of secrets the students and teachers fear. Knowing what I do about his family situation, I think I understand why he’s so hell-bent on being the keeper of people’s deepest secrets. But I hope he’ll drop that wall someday, to share this Connor with the world.

  The one who paints Nutella on my cheek so he can hold my face while he licks it off, making my heart flutter with joy.

  While we’re working, he keeps making vulgar things with the excess dough scraps—boobs, a dick, the poop emoji. He makes me laugh so hard I have to crouch down and muffle my amusement so Mom doesn’t hear and come to investigate. Constantine watches our antics from his bed, his deep brown eyes dancing back and forth between us.

  As I’m rolling out the next dough, this one a chocolate shortbread I plan to dip in white chocolate, Connor smacks my ass with flour-covered hands.

  “Hey!” Holding my arms up, I twist to find a big flour handprint on my black workout shorts. “I’m so getting you back for that.”

  “Can’t be helped. You’ve got these hot little booty shorts on.”

  “You have no self restraint. Just a one-track mind.”

  With a chuckle, Connor jumps out of reach when I swipe at him with the flour from the bowl by my rolling station. I hunt him around the island and he flashes me a sneaky look as I make my move, trapping me in his arms before I can dump flour down his shirt.

  “Got you,” he murmurs before kissing me.

  I shift around in his arms to kiss him properly, our tongues sliding together. He kisses the curve of my smile, unsuspecting until I smash flour in his hair.

  “What the—” Connor’s eyes are wide in shock as I choke on my victorious laughter. “Okay, Kennedy. I see how it is.”

  “Wait—babe, don’t!” I retreat before he can retaliate against me with the jar of Nutella, my hands raised in surrender.

  He narrows his eyes, but concedes. “Okay, truce. But I get another kiss.”

  After Connor claims his bounty with another kiss that leaves me breathless, he lets me return to baking.

  “You really like this stuff,” he says, leaning against the sink as I put another tray of cookies in the oven. “You’re good at it, too.”

  I toss a quick smile over my shoulder, flushed from his praise. “Thanks. I’ve always loved it. Before I could even reach the counter. When I was little, my grandma used to pull up a chair so I could watch and help while she taught me her recipes.” I nod to the notebook I have on the other side of the island. “That one has a lot of her old ones in it. I’ve tweaked some over the years. I’m always tinkering with them.”

  His mouth quirks up at the corner as I tell my story. “Is that what you’re always carrying around? I swear I see you with a different notebook every day.”

  “Yeah. I’ve probably filled hundreds of them by now. Mom used to get so annoyed when we’d be out grocery shopping or whatever and I’d beg for a new notebook I saw.” I shake my head. “But I have enough to open my own bakery someday. It’s my dream. Feed the world with happiness. And sugar.”

  “Yeah? That’s cool. You’ll do amazing at it. Does your grandma approve of your improvements to her recipes?”

  A pang pierces my heart. “She did, but she’s passed. Right before freshman year.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry, baby.” Connor pops out of his relaxed position and wraps me in a warm hug. “Come here.”

  “I’m okay. I still miss her, though. We’ve always shared a love of baking and it just hits me some days that even if I make her signature creamy puff pastry recipe, it still won’t be her love going into it, you know?”

  He hums and strokes my back in comforting circles.

  “What about you?” I tip my head back to meet his gaze. “What do you think you want to do with your life?”

  His head cocks to the side. “Something with computers. I like working with them and I’m pretty good. I guess it quiets my head the same way baking does for you.”

  “Computers?” My nose crinkles with my teasing grin. “You know, I think that qualifies you as a nerd. I seem to remember you calling me that once or twice.”

  Connor taps my nose. “Takes one to know one.”

  “Sure,” I drawl. “There’s no way mister popular soccer captain isn’t harboring self-loathing going around calling his sweet neighbor a nerd. Not at all.”

  “Savage little thing, aren’t you?” He nips at my neck in revenge, torturing the sensitive pulse point until I’m putty in his arms.

  The timer on my phone goes off and I leave his embrace to take out the final batch of cookies. A tendril of warm pride blossoms in my chest as I survey the room. Every surface in the kitchen is covered in cookies and the traces of our midnight baking. It felt amazing to have him here, even if he snuck in. I can’t remember what nasty thought drove me out of bed, my mood soaring high after spending time with my boyfriend doing my favorite thing in the world.

  Connor studies me as he leans his hip against the counter. His playful demeanor has shifted to something more serious. “Why don’t you ever let anyone see you, Thea?”

  The question takes me by surprise and slices into my heart, digging at one of my oldest wounds. Invisible. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re always so quiet, but you have all these opinions about everything.” He rubs his jaw and shrugs. “And you’ve shown me more of yourself, even before you knew it was me.”

  Heat floods my face. I was so desperate to keep my sputtering flame with Wyatt alive, I really did dive in head first to it when I got a response.

  As I’m struggling to respond, Connor adds in a soft voice, “You’re brave, so why do you hide it?”

  My stomach bottoms out. I take a second
to gather my thoughts, wiping my hands clean on a dish towel.

  “Well, I’m brave in my own ways. To me, bravery is about showing myself I can do something I’m afraid of. Like standing up for someone when no one else will.” My mind flashes to Blair Davis. “It’s not about showing off or making myself look good. I don’t have to be in front of a crowd to consider myself brave. I don’t really care what anyone else thinks, I just answer to myself.”

  Connor stares at me for a beat, then he huffs out a laugh. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not amazing, because you are.”

  “I don’t. I’ve told you about a hundred times I didn’t care what you thought, didn’t I?”

  My pleased grin stretches when he snorts and mutters to the dog. “You believe this? Boyfriend status and I still get attitude.”

  Constantine doesn’t answer, only continues to snore, deep in sleep after dozing off an hour ago. I bustle around the kitchen, packing the cooled cookies into containers to sort through them for French club. Once I’m done, I gape at the time.

  “Wow, it’s late. Almost three.”

  Connor hums, sliding his arms around my waist. “The perfect time for mischief.”

  “Or sleep.” I tip my head back and pucker my lips. He gives me a quick peck, then comes back for more, deepening the kiss. I mumble against his lips, “Need. Sleep.”

  “Need. You,” Connor shoots back, palming my ass. “Come with me. We’ll sleep out in the pool house. I don’t want to go to bed without you.”

  It’s tempting. I’d love to sleep with his warm arms locked around me and his lips nestled against my skin. Mom would kill me, though. She knocks every morning if I’m not up first, and then she barges in my room anyway.

  “I want to, but we can’t.”

  “Come on, baby. I want to fall asleep with you and wake up the same way.” He keeps kissing me until I’m dizzy. “Then we’ll skip school tomorrow. We’ll sleep in, get coffee and donuts, and have an adventure. Run away with me. Sound good?”