by A. E. Via
“I’m sorry,” Bishop croaked. He sounded as if he smoked cigars. He shook his head, trying to clear the lingering lust that was still making him fight his urges. What Edison had just admitted to him only made him that much sexier, more fascinating and so, so desirable that it made him groan as he turned away to gather his things. His dick was trying to stab through the rough material of his jeans, but he ignored it, this being the ultimate test of his willpower.
“Bishop. For Pete’s sake, I didn’t say I was sorry. I’m not sorry. And I didn’t say stop… I. I said wait because… well I was close and I thought…” Edison ran his hand through his hair, his pale cheeks red from Bishop’s beard, and his pretty lips swollen from their kisses. Edison’s voice was quiet when he added, “We could go to my bedroom.”
Fuck me. He knew what he’d do if they went back there and Bishop couldn’t guarantee he could behave… not yet. It had been almost six goddamn years! The intimacy was all too new, too sudden. Just a few days ago he’d been battling with the idea of even being good enough to go after a man like Edison and he’d just reconciled that he was… or he would be soon anyway. Now, Edison had gone and upped the ante. Bishop’s hands shook as he shoved papers in his folder. Edison came out of the kitchen and stood by the breakfast bar with a crippling look of disappointment on his face, and it made the burger in Bishop’s stomach threaten to make a reappearance.
“So that’s how it is?” Edison crossed his arms over his chest. “I listened when you said you had something difficult to confess. I didn’t judge you for the choices you made in your life… now you do this to me after I tell you something so private.”
Bishop felt slapped. He couldn’t see any more hurt in those eyes as he stared at a point over Edison’s head. “You’re really misunderstanding. I’m not judging you. I just need to take a second and… ya know… slow down a bit.”
“Slow what down?” Edison frowned. His jaw twitched as he gritted his teeth as if he was struggling not to fuss. “We didn’t do anything. Look… I’m not holding out for marriage or anything. More like the right opportunity.”
Dammit. Edison deserved more than just an opportunity to get fucked. And Bishop didn’t just wanna be anyone’s opportunity anymore. He’d been truthful when he told his dad that he didn’t just want to fuck Edison. Now he had to prove it.
“That’s not what you are,” Bishop rumbled. He took his portfolio under his arm and headed towards the front of the house.
“Sure.” Edison shook his head as if he couldn’t believe he was leaving. “I guess I’ll walk you out.”
“Thanks.” Bishop didn’t linger at the door, knowing that if he leaned against Edison’s body again then all bets would be off.
“Yeah. Goodnight, Bishop.” He barely heard the words as Edison began to shut the door.
He was on the bottom step when he turned around. “I’ll see you in the morning. About eight.”
Edison’s slight smile didn’t reach his eyes as he let the door shut.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Edison
“What a flippin’… pussy.” There… he’d said the word. Sure did. Never did he think a man as confident and bold as Bishop would fold so easily. He couldn’t believe how fast he’d run after his confession. It was as if he’d told Bishop he had herpes. It was ironic he thought that because his virginity was harder to get rid of than an STD. Edison put the last plate in the dish rack and wiped off his already clean counters. When he got to the opposite side of the stove—where he’d just had his behind—humiliation slammed into him. He’d darn near offered himself up on a platter, had invited Bishop to his bed, only to be rejected again. Obviously, Bishop preferred a man with experience.
How am I gonna get any freaking experience if no will freaking touch me! Edison grabbed the glass Bishop had drank from and threw it to his hardwood floor, flinching when a few of the shards hit the top of his bare feet. That was stupid of him, but he was so ticked off he needed to vent. Even more so because he was still horny and aching. He’d been an immature idiot. The crash was mildly satisfying, and he wanted to do it again the more he glanced towards the counter, but breaking all his nice dishes wouldn’t change anything. He carefully maneuvered around the large pieces of glass and grabbed his broom out of the pantry to clean up the mess he’d made.
Edison closed the patio blinds, locked up, and turned off all the lights. He went into his bedroom and slammed the door closed. He changed into a pair of sweatpants and a sleeveless T-shirt and went to his pop’s old room. Now, his exercise room. There’d been no way he could’ve kept the house exactly as it was when his best friend had lived there. He was gone and Edison wouldn’t have been able to move on if his living space looked like a shrine to his father.
The room wasn’t elaborate, and he didn’t have the newest and best equipment on the market, but it was enough for him to accomplish his goals. There was a treadmill, and an elliptical machine—since cardio was his main focus—as well as a weight bench and multiple sets of dumbbells that he tried to add to his routine, but rarely did. There were a few other fad gadgets he’d tried over the years sitting in the corner near the yoga mat and exercise ball. He flipped on the ceiling fan light and started the blades on high. A little physical activity should cool him right down.
He went to the wall of bookshelves and pulled out the novel he’d purchased when he’d run into Bishop at Barnes & Noble. He shook his head when he remembered how that encounter had gone. Would there ever be a time that he wasn’t gonna have to pick his face up off the floor when Bishop departed. He was so frustrated he could scream, and that said a lot.
He did a few stretches, then got onto the treadmill, propping his book on the holder. He had a sound system to listen to audiobooks while he exercised, and a television mounted on the wall, but he didn’t feel like bothering with either.
He started with a warm-up but quickly upped the speed to a brisk walk. He added his arms to get his heart-rate up, and his blood to flow to other areas besides below his waist. He tried to concentrate on the book and let the words take him to another place, into another life that was far different from his own. But, no matter how hard he tried or how fast he pumped his legs, he couldn’t outrun the shame. He hit the cool down after forty-two minutes. His balls were still heavy, and his face was sweaty and red, but little of it had to do with the exertion from his exercise. He climbed off the machine and bowed forward, resting his hands on his knees.
Edison marched back to his bedroom. He couldn’t face Bishop tomorrow. Not when he knew all he saw him as was an inept kid that was disguising himself as a mature exec. He’d been so green and stupid that he’d opened his big mouth and not only blurted his secret, but he’d revealed his age as well… which he’d meant to wait on.
There was no way he could do this thing tomorrow. He wasn’t going back on their agreement. He still wanted the beautiful backyard that he’d already fallen in love with. But it didn’t mean they had to start so soon. He’d already put off the task for years… a couple more weeks wouldn’t make a difference. Perhaps by then he could face Bishop without his face turning into a tomato.
He’d showered and did his evening grooming then gotten into his empty bed. He rolled his eyes when he thought of how close he’d been. He squirmed against the cool sheets, his skin still tingling from Bishop’s rough hands. He didn’t dare put his hand inside his sleep pants to satisfy the unfulfilled need, he felt pathetic enough. Edison tried to read some more of his novel but couldn’t. He watched some CNN but even Don Lemon didn’t hold his interest. He shut everything off and laid there staring at his ceiling fan, hoping the rotation of the blades would put him to sleep, but after thirty minutes, no such luck. It was five minutes until eleven when he broke down and texted Bishop.
Edison: Sorry if I’m texting too late. But I was thinking you could start on the yard in a couple of weeks. There’s no reason to overcrowd your schedule. I’ll get back to you with more details after I check my calen
dar.
Edison felt like the weakest piece of dung there was, but this was about his sanity at this point. He was already kicking the hell out of his own butt for blurting what he did and ruining his one chance he’d had in years to become a man. The moment Edison set his phone on his nightstand and settled under the covers his phone chimed with an incoming message notification.
Oh shoot. He didn’t think Bishop would respond tonight.
Bishop: im call u… not lik txt
Edison frowned as he stared at the screen. Call me? Who does—? He didn’t have a chance to finish his thought before his phone rang so loudly that it startled him and made him drop the heavy device on his forehead. “Ow, crap.” Edison fumbled for the phone but hesitated a few seconds before he swiped the green receiver to the right.
“Hello.” He tried to sound casual, tired, like he’d been resting easily all evening.
“Why?” Bishop’s voice was gravelly as if he hadn’t spoken since he left Edison’s house. “Why are you tanking the project?”
That’s all he cares about is the dang project. Wasn’t Bishop confident enough in his skills to know that he didn’t have to sweeten the pot by sleeping with his customers? Edison was foolish to think he was different. God, he’d been thoughtless, and desperate. Edison pushed the lump down in his throat. He thought maybe he should just hire an escort, one that provided full services and get it the heck over with, then he’d never have to confess that particular fact again.
“I’m not,” Edison said quietly. “I don’t think you have to start immediately, is all I was saying. I’m still going to do it. Definitely.”
Bishop was quiet for so long that Edison had to check the screen to make sure the call was still connected. He had no clue what to say and he hated that Bishop called him and put him on the spot like this instead of just texting him back.
“That’s not it at all. I can tell in your voice,” Bishop said. “What do you think happened tonight, Edison?”
Is that a trick question? Edison cleared his throat. “Nothing happened.” Like always.
“Yes, it did. A lot happened.”
“I’m not over here crying about it, okay,” Edison said, knowing he was sounding agitated. “We’re adults. We played around a few minutes and it was fun but I’m talking about business right now. I want to start the job in a couple weeks.”
“And I want to start tomorrow.”
Edison took a deep breath then slowly released it. He wasn’t seeing Bishop tomorrow. No way.
~
Bishop
Bishop thought he’d be able to clear everything up in the morning, but either Edison lacked any patience for bullshit or Bishop had truly fucked up. His pulse spiked at Edison’s sharp tone and his barely concealed anger. Edison didn’t appear to be a man who allowed someone under his skin too easily. He was so mature and dignified. Bishop almost liked that he could bring him so far out of his element… but not like this. He could hear the snark, could feel the disappointment, the irritation and the hurt in Edison’s voice.
“Edison, look.” Bishop rubbed his hand over his bare chest, pushing the sheet below his waist. “I’m not the best at expressing myself with words. Sometimes I have to stop and think about things before I continue whatever it is that got in my head. I see now it looked like I was running away from what you’d told me… or judging what you told me. But I wasn’t.”
“Weren’t you?” Edison said in a clipped tone. “We were full steam ahead until I said… that.”
“I know. And that’s the problem, Eddie,” Bishop groaned. “I was going for it. I was. I wanted you like… no…” Bishop’s voice went deeper. “I. Want. You. And I had to pull back or else I was gonna do something I’d regret… and possibly you too.”
“I don’t understand,” Edison stated. “Regret?”
“Yes. I was so into it, so turned on that I… I—” Bishop didn’t know how to say what he wanted. Words just weren’t his forte. While he’d showered and gone over his plan of action on the yard tomorrow, he’d decided on a grand gesture that he’d hoped would show Edison how special he thought he was, and that he’d like a chance to prove himself.
He wanted to take Edison out on a date, hold his hand in public, kiss him and show him how sexy he thought he was. Then after a little while they could do more of what they did tonight, but he’d be sure to take his time and show Edison the wonders of lovemaking. Hell, show both of them. But, going for third base after one fucking dinner… that Edison had to cook for them. Shit. Bishop could do better than that. He’d treated Royce better, and he’d done little to deserve it.
“I was thinking about myself, my needs, not yours. You deserve better than to be tossed around your favorite room in your house and handled like a rag doll.”
“Ugh. I flippin’ wanted that,” Edison bit back. “Don’t I have a say in how I get rid of this plague that I was born with?”
Bishop chuckled. He wasn’t laughing at Edison, but it was funny that he didn’t see his virginity as the rarest, most special gift he could give to another. Bishop wanted to be worthy of that treasure. Edison was a unicorn in his grimy, fucked-up world.
“I’m not laughing,” Edison said. “I told you something I don’t tell everyone, like I assume you do about your criminal record.”
Bishop’s smile fell.
“But the second I confided in you, you bolted for shelter like I was the one that told you I just got out of prison for committing a felony.”
Well damn. Bishop’s brows rose. Edison had more spark in him than Bishop thought. He’d been upset, disappointed and he wasn’t letting Bishop off the hook so easy. “I deserved that.”
“Dang right you do.”
Bishop ran his hand over his hard nipple, holding in his gasp. Edison’s temper was turning him on. He loved that he was gentle and kind-hearted, but he also liked that he wasn’t a pushover and could give as he good as he got. Edison wasn’t cowering down from him… he had balls.
“I’m trying to explain this the best I can. I wasn’t turned-off, it was quite the opposite. After you told me you were a virgin, baby, I thought my dick was going shoot right then. I wanted to tackle you, Edison… shit, I almost did.”
“I thought you were disgusted by it,” Edison said quietly. If it hadn’t been so dark and silent in his small bedroom, Bishop wouldn’t’ve been able to hear him.
Bishop moaned when he dipped his hand into his shorts. “Why in the hell would that disgust me? I don’t know what my face looked like when you told me. It probably wasn’t good. But it was an internal battle I was struggling with and I needed to go… get some air. But I was coming back, and I knew I could make it right.”
“You could’ve handled that differently, Bishop. I felt like crap and…”
“I know,” Bishop said. “And I’m sorry. I was gonna make it up to you. I was. I didn’t think you’d text me in the middle of the night and dump me.”
Edison barked a quick laugh. “Dump you? How can I dump you when we’re not even together?”
Bishop could hear the suggestion, could sense Edison’s slight smile and hesitancy through the phone. He lowered his voice. “Edison. Let me come over tomorrow, okay. I have something I want to tell you.”
“All right,” Edison said after several long seconds. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Night, handsome.”
Bishop set his phone on the nightstand after Edison had hung up and forced himself to get some sleep. He needed to work his ass off tomorrow. He’d almost fucked up his chance with an awesome guy before he’d even gotten one. And he knew why. Mixing business and pleasure would always result in a misunderstanding, then disaster. So, he would fix that as soon as he got to Edison’s house in the morning.
No more business with his pleasure.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Edison
Edison was used to waking up early, but when he cracked his eyes open at five in the morning, he knew it was his nerves. He’d go
tten a few hours of shuteye, but it was enough for him to function. He decided to kill some time by doing some free weights and a half hour on the elliptical machine. It was six thirty by the time he’d showered, shaved, and dressed in a pair of Nike track pants and a plain white T-shirt.
He ate a quick breakfast of eggs, bacon and cinnamon toast while he read the New York Times online. He still had an hour before Bishop arrived and his nerves were trying to get the better of him and he knew only one way to calm them. He went in his kitchen and started pulling ingredients to make some blueberry muffins. Edison was crazy to keep cooking like this for Bishop, but he loved watching him enjoy his food. Besides, it was just muffins and coffee… and juice. That was it.
He found himself smiling while he folded the crushed blueberries into the batter. He thought he wasn’t going to see Bishop for a while, but he was coming, had insisted. He’d asked for a chance to make it up to him. Edison listened to Bishop try to explain his actions last night, and he wanted to believe his reasoning. It sounded good. Honorable even. But, he didn’t want that. He wanted Bishop the bad boy to haul him to his room, throw him onto his bed and ravish him like a man who’d been without all his life. Edison groaned in sexual frustration as he lined the muffin tin with liners and filled each one with the batter. Once he sprinkled extra sugar on top, he popped it into his top oven and set the timer. They should be nice and warm when Bishop got there.
