Bishop

by Sawyer Bennett

  I quickly change subjects. “What do you do for a living, Sarah?”

  “I’m studying to get my real estate license, but I work as a bartender in the meantime. I was actually working last night when I met Erik.”

  I turn slightly to look back over at Bishop, and now I’m surprised to see my father standing there with him and Tacker. I wonder if my dad is telling Tacker that he’s going to be the team’s captain.

  “So you and Bishop seem like a great couple,” Sarah says to me, and it forces my gaze back to her.

  I really hate not looking at Bishop. He is extraordinarily handsome tonight in a gray suit so dark it could pass for black, but it has thin threads of light blue running vertically in a wide, plaid pattern. He paired it with a pale blue shirt and a blue and yellow tie. It must be an unwritten rule, but hockey players clean up very, very well. Again, he wears his long hair swept back from his face and perfectly held in place by some type of miracle hair product. I have to find out what it is, because when my fingers get into his hair, it’s not stiff or sticky but feels just fabulously thick and soft.

  “Any advice for Erik and me?” Sarah asks, and it startles me to realize I hadn’t responded to her prior question. Well, it wasn’t exactly a question but more like a hanging statement that required a response. I had not given her one but instead started daydreaming about Bishop again.

  Smiling brightly at Sarah, I tell her, “I don’t know that my advice would be all that great. We’ve only been seeing each other a few months.”

  “Well, he’s clearly smitten with you,” Sarah says.

  “What do you mean?” I ask her with a slight tilt to my head.

  Sarah just nods toward Bishop before telling me, “He’s constantly watching you when you two aren’t together. Can’t you feel the weight of it?”

  I can’t. And that’s probably because I actually feel wired like live electricity is humming low within me just by being around the man. I’m sure that completely masks the weight of his stare.

  “I wish something like that could develop between Erik and me,” Sarah says wistfully as her gaze takes in Erik from across the room with overt hunger.

  Not a sexual hunger. And not a predatory hunger for the things he can give her. I think Sarah is just looking for love, and she’s doing it in an epically big way.

  I hate to tell her, but she’s not gonna find it with a one-night stand.

  Correct that…I mean a two-night stand, since she technically had sex with Erik in the bar last night and I’m quite sure she’ll have it again with him after they leave here.

  Sadly, I have a pretty good gut instinct that Erik is not going to be calling her after tonight. He’s barely said a handful of words to her that I’ve observed, which makes him a bit of a douche to be honest.

  I feel incredibly sad for Sarah because I can relate. While I had no intention of pining after Bishop after our one-night stand, I couldn’t help but think about him constantly after he left and into the next morning.

  And then…suddenly he was there in my doorway and I felt myself come alive.

  If Sarah even feels a fraction of that excitement for Erik that I felt for Bishop when I saw him again, then her heart is going to get broken.

  Mine won’t, however, because we have a solid game plan. I know there’s an expiration date to this, so I don’t have any expectations, and without expectations, I can’t get let down.

  A hand at my lower back pulls me out of my internal musings and I turn, then look up, to see Bishop standing there. The way he’s smiling at me—like he’s happy to see me and can’t wait to get me home—I have to remind myself that it’s all an act.

  “You ready to get out of here?” he asks, his voice low and seductive. Sarah gives a yearning sigh from behind me.

  “Yeah…sure,” I say, not quite liking the way I come off sounding all breathless and needy. “Let’s go say goodbye to my dad, okay?”

  Before we walk away from Sarah, I introduce her to Bishop. He’ll never see her again, but it’s the nice thing to do. We say goodbye to her and I watch her walk toward Erik for a moment, wringing her hands with nervousness yet still managing to put a seductive sway to her hips that has his eyes lighting up with appreciation as he watches her.

  Bishop and I locate my father and give our farewells. This includes a hug from me where he embraces me just a little too hard, but that’s how it’s always been. He gives a quietly solemn handshake to Bishop, but there’s a wealth of information on his face. With his eyes and a hard set to his jawline, he tells Bishop without uttering a word, Don’t you dare hurt my little girl.

  Of course, I know that’s an impossibility given the whole temporary nature of our relationship and that we both have big plans to move on without looking behind.

  The theory is sound.

  My gut still rolls slightly when I think about the potential damage this could do to all involved.

  After the valet brings the car, I’m settled into the front seat, and Bishop starts to drive away from the restaurant, he asks, “I think we managed to pull that off, don’t you?”

  “Mmmm,” I agree with just a hum in my throat. “No one seemed the wiser.”

  He doesn’t reply, but puts his attention to the traffic coming from his left before he can merge into traffic. There’s extended silence once he manages to make his turn and I settle farther back into the seat.

  “Can I stay the night with you?” he asks me, and the very minute level of nervousness in his voice makes me turn to look at him. I don’t see anything but confidence in his profile as he watches the road, the glow from the dashboard illuminating his handsome face.

  “Okay,” I say softly.

  His lips curve upward, and it’s only then that I’m able to see his shoulders relax, indicating that my answer was very important to him.

  “Good,” is all he says.

  Chapter 10

  Brooke

  “I’ve…never…done this…before.” My words come out all chopped up as I pant. Bishop’s fingers are between my legs, which are spread wide.

  “That’s not true,” Bishop says with his mouth by my ear. “I’ve gotten you off a few times with my fingers.”

  I shake my head, the back of which is pressed into his shoulder. He sits behind me in my bathtub, his erection thick and hard against my back.

  Sucking in a huge breath through my nose, I manage to grit out, “I mean…take a bath with a guy before.”

  Bishop’s index finger strums my clit, and his other arm is wrapped around me with a huge palm squeezing a breast. His mouth is still by my ear, tickling it with his breath. I’m so close, but he just made me come twice in the bedroom and he’s making me work for this one. Taking his time, fluttering touches that build me up so damn slowly.

  “Brooke,” Bishop murmurs, and his voice is so sexy my toes curl. “A bath seemed like the perfect thing to do after you begged me to come on your tits a little bit ago.”

  I groan and thrust my pelvis upward. His laugh is wicked in my ear as he keeps giving me his dirty talk and gentle finger. “I was surprised to hear you ask for that. Surprised and delighted. Knowing you’re a dirty girl.”

  My head shakes left to right in silent denial, but God…I think he’s right. The words that come out of my mouth are practically foreign to me when Bishop has me all wild and out of control. And I feel like it takes him barely any effort to get me there. Not but fifteen minutes ago, he had me spread-eagled on my bed and was fucking me so deeply and slowly I absolutely fucking lost my mind.

  I’d actually begged him to come on me, something I’ve never done before. It was magical watching the transformation on his face go from deep pleasure to harsh need. He moved from slow and deep to hard and fast, and in moments he was pulling out, whipping the condom off, and coming all over my chest.

  “Going to let
me fuck that mouth at some point?” he asks, voice all low and husky.

  “Yes,” I moan without any hesitation. It’s something I’d been thinking about because he has such utter control of me when it comes to sex, for once, or maybe a few times over the next few weeks, I want him at my mercy.

  “Going to swallow every bit of me?” he prods, with his words and his finger. His pressure increases on my clit, which is so oversensitized right now the gentle flow of warm bathwater is contributing to my pleasure.

  “I will,” I promise him, and that causes a reaction. I can feel his dick jerk against my back and he groans, pressing his lips into my neck.

  “Can’t wait for that, baby,” he croons, and starts moving his fingers faster.

  Rougher.

  I break away and start falling, feeling the orgasm rushing upward to meet me. I try to plant my feet against his ankles for leverage, and when the pleasure erupts and starts to shred me, my hips shoot upward in a demand for more. Bishop sinks his fingers into me; not sure how many, but I feel so full. I can feel myself rippling around them, grabbing them…sucking them in deeper.

  “That’s it,” he praises me softly before biting my ear kind of hard.

  I like it.

  I sag backward onto his body and my head lolls on his shoulder. My hand covers his, keeping him lodged inside of me for a few blissful moments. I feel his lips press against my neck again as he whispers, “I love making you come.”

  * * *

  —

  “This is kind of weird,” I murmur, and Bishop’s arm tightens around me.

  We’re spooning.

  In my bed.

  Ready to go to sleep.

  His voice is heavy and relaxed. “You mean sleeping together?”

  “Yeah,” I say as I bring a hand up to stroke the back of his hand, which is splayed across my stomach. “I mean…like we even got semidressed and crawled into bed like adults.”

  Bishop chuckles. It felt weird getting into bed naked to go to sleep. I mean, nothing weird about the bath, him getting me off, and then pulling me out to bend me over the sink. But when we dried off and Bishop announced he was staying all night, my first thought was to put on panties and a T-shirt. I’d felt suddenly vulnerable.

  He made no comment as he watched me do this, and I was oddly relieved when he slipped on his boxer briefs. God, he looked amazing with all those muscles and just that thin, stretchy fabric covering his goods.

  “Is this cool me staying here?” he asked. “It’s not like we need to do it for show.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I muse out loud. “I mean…if my dad stopped by unexpectedly, that would lend credibility to our story.”

  Bishop gives a fake full-body shudder. “Please God, don’t let that happen.”

  Laughing, I squeeze his hand, then press it deeper into my belly. His arm tightens around me and I feel oddly secure.

  Strange because I was just feeling so vulnerable.

  “That was nice of you to talk to Erik’s date tonight,” Bishop says into the darkness. I’ve got my blinds shut tight, as my neighbor’s house sits about twenty feet away, their bedroom directly across from mine. The first week after I’d moved in I got an eyeful of Mr. Crantz walking around naked, and the blinds have been closed ever since.

  He feels my shrug, but I add, “She was cool. I’m sure Erik would have liked her had he managed to talk to her.”

  The cringe that follows I’m sure he also feels. I didn’t mean for my words to come out so patronizing. Bishop is quiet for a moment and I wait for him to lay into me for judging his teammate, but he merely says, “That’s just Erik. He’s a total playboy and not ready to settle down yet.”

  “She told me they had sex in the bathroom of the bar she worked at last night,” I tell him, feeling secure enough to share this with him.

  Bishop chuckles. “Yup. And later that night, he left with another woman.”

  Before I can process how rotten that is, I blurt out, “You sound almost proud of him.”

  “Why? Does that make you jealous?” he says playfully.

  “Not in the slightest,” I huff out, and he laughs again, pulling me even deeper into him.

  “Don’t worry,” he tells me. “I was a good boy last night.”

  “Yeah,” I mumble as I consider the reasons for his good behavior. “It wouldn’t be very helpful for the boys to see you on the prowl when you have a supposed girlfriend you’d been hiding from them.”

  Another long moment of silence, and I wait for him to get mad. He brings his hand up and slides his fingers along my jaw. He turns my head so I have to crane over my shoulder to look at him. There’s just the shadowy outline of him, and I have no clue what expression is on his face, but his voice is very gentle.

  Very steady.

  “There is that…the charade we’re creating, but, Brooke, if I’m fucking you, I’m only fucking you. That’s the way I always roll.”

  I’d have expected relief to course through me, but instead a cramp of desire hits me between my legs. It takes everything not to take his hand in mine and push it down my body.

  Way down.

  I don’t, though, because we’re actually carrying on a conversation, and that’s quite nice too.

  “What’s the deal with this merchandising position?” Bishop asks, and that catches me by surprise. He sounds interested in me as a person. “Did you get a raise if you’re working two jobs?”

  “No,” I tell him, and then go on to explain. “I’m sort of doing a work-interview with the merchandising director, Sebastian Parr. I’m hoping I impress him enough that he offers me a full-time position and I can leave team services behind. No offense.”

  “None taken,” he assures me. “Besides, that’s your background right?”

  “Mmmm-hmmmm,” I murmur, feeling the fatigue of the multiple orgasms I had tonight.

  Bishop jabs me in the ribs with an index finger, lightly enough it comes off as ticklish. I squirm and let out a laughing yip.

  “I need more than that, Brooke,” he chides me as he gathers me back up in his arms and pulls me in tight to his warmth. “College, work history, former boyfriends, funky quirks.”

  He wants to know about me?

  I mean, I know that was supposedly the theory behind us spending time together, but he actually sounds…interested.

  “I’ll start with my career background,” I say as I tuck a hand under my chin. I tell him all about how I got my bachelor’s in fashion merchandising from the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York and had high hopes of becoming a buyer for a major retail store, but instead landed in the magazine world. I found out that it suited me well.

  He listens to me patiently as I tell him about my job as the assistant to the editor and that I really did like it a lot, mainly because I had a great boss.

  “Will you go back?” he asks.

  “Maybe,” I admit into the darkness. “If the position was still available and things weren’t working out here.”

  I had not really given this much thought. I’d committed to staying for at least a year to get my dad through the season should he need the support that long. But if he was doing well, and he would be okay without me, my heart is sort of back in New York.

  “Did you like living in New York?” he asks.

  “Loved it. Miss it a lot.”

  “Yeah…I liked it a lot too.”

  “At least you’ll get to travel there during the season,” I say.

  There’s another moment of silence and I wait for his thoughts. I’m starting to realize that Bishop doesn’t make idle conversation.

  When his voice comes through in the dark, I’m surprised by the change of subject. “Why did you decide on a one-night stand with me?”

  “I’m a modern woman,” I reply, starting to def
end my actions. “There’s nothing wrong with casual sex and—”

  “No…not why you decided to have a one-night stand,” he says with enough emphasis I realize I missed his meaning. “But why with me? You had other guys hitting on you and more to come, I’m sure.”

  “Are you looking at me to stroke your ego?” I tease him.

  “When I want you to stroke something, I’ll tell you,” he mutters. “But I think the reason you chose me speaks a lot to the type of woman you are, and I’m curious if my suspicions are right.”

  Now that’s interesting and I want to know what those suspicions are. “Because you didn’t presume to know what I wanted. You asked me what you could do to get some conversation rather than just thinking I wanted a drink, or that I wanted attention. Perhaps I was just there for some alone time to have a drink or two to relax after a busy day. You didn’t automatically assume I wanted a one-night stand.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he confirms. “But I was hoping.”

  That is funny and adorable all at once and I don’t hold back on my laugh. He presses his hand into my belly, as if he’s trying to feel my humor rather than just listen to it.

  “You looked like a decent guy, Bishop,” I tell him to further answer his question. I’m no longer laughing, but if he’s as intuitive as I think he is, he can hear the smile in my words. “You looked like you’d treat me well, even if it was for only one night.”

  I can feel his smirk somehow. Can actually feel it in the dark in the way his body moves slightly. He confirms I’m right when he points out, “You screamed my name out to the heavens that first night. I totally treated you well.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about,” I mutter.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he says dismissively, and then throws me for an absolute loop that has my head spinning. “You think there’s the possibility that we can really just truly enjoy our time with each other over the next few weeks while we perpetrate this scam on your dad and the team?”