Secret Sin

16

Bishop led me to his car with swift, purposeful strides. Anger wafted in the air behind him, making me reluctant to fuss at him for hauling me out of the club. He had no right to do what he’d done. Though, to be honest, I felt a little bad about avoiding him all week. I kept telling myself time apart would remind me how important my goals were, but all it brought was a sense of loss and emptiness. When he finally slowed to a stop at the passenger door of his car, he seemed to calm himself in a way that set me on edge even more than his anger had. “I’m taking you to my place. Get in.” He opened the door, his brown eyes devoid of their usual warmth. “What’s going on, Bishop? You’re scaring me a little.” His chest expanded with a deep breath before he closed the distance between us, one hand weaving its way into my hair while his thumb trailed gently over my cheek. “There’s nothing to be scared of, kitten,” he said gruffly but gently. “My only intent is to give you what you want.” The words were sweet, so why did I detect a hint of sadness behind them? Guilt tugged at my heart. I hadn’t meant to hurt him by resisting his attention. The relationship had come on so fast that I needed time to process how I felt. And it wasn’t like he’d made it easy with his domineering tendencies. Bishop was a city-toppling earthquake shaking my foundations when I only wanted a quick amusement park ride. At least, that was what I’d thought I wanted. After a week of thinking, I realized ground-shaking tremors could be just as invigorating, if not more so. I nodded and allowed him to help me into the car. We both remained quiet on the short drive to his place. I wished I could see inside his mysterious head and hear his thoughts. Why was he still willing to put up with me after everything I’d done? How could he be so damn certain he wanted me or that we’d be good together? Maybe it was age. He was several years older than me. Late twenties, if I had to guess. He’d likely had dozens of relationships in that time, hundreds if I counted his flings. Ugh. Why had I gone there? My stomach was starting to feel the alcohol, and the last thing it wanted was to picture Bishop with a host of other women. Making them laugh. Protecting them. Pressing them against a wall and … What are you, a masochist? I cleared my mind as best I could and spent the rest of the ride watching the city lights out the passenger window. The conversation looming over us would be emotional enough; I didn’t need to wind myself up unnecessarily. Fifteen long, awkward minutes later, we were back at his apartment with a dense forest of unspoken words between us. Only, the conversation I’d thought we were about to have wouldn’t be possible because we weren’t alone. A man Bishop’s age stood in the living room, a whiskey in hand. He didn’t seem surprised to see us, though he gave the impression of a man who didn’t rattle easily. He was handsome in a rugged way. Strawberryblond hair with green eyes and a swath of freckles made harder with a square-cut jaw and facial features so masculine he could have walked off the set of a Vikings episode. And he stared at me with an intensity I didn’t quite understand. “What’s going on?” I blurted, all manners forgotten. I had thought we were going to talk about our relationship and finally come to an understanding, but the presence of another man completely threw me. Something was horribly off, but I had no idea what. “I’m giving you what you want,” he said in a cool voice. A wave of confusion washed over me, my eyes cutting to the other man. “What do you mean?” “You want to experience life without limitations. I’m here to give that to you.” I looked from one man to the other, totally baffled. “Pippa, I’d like you to meet Callum.” Bishop extended a hand toward the stranger. The man set down his glass and crossed the room to place a kiss on the back of my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he murmured. The gesture was so intimate, so unexpected, it set my stomach to spin cycle. I turned to Bishop, leaving Callum at my back. “Is this…? Are you suggesting a threesome?” My spine stiffened as Callum brushed the hair off my shoulder and pressed his lips to my neck. “This is whatever you want it to be.” Holy s**t, is this real? Two men? At the same time? I’d never even contemplated that in my daydreams. I’d been trying to achieve normal, never even imagining something so adventurous. A threesome would definitely be different and new. Was that what I wanted? A swarm of emotions clouded my head, preventing me from determining just how I felt. My gaze sought out Bishop’s for direction. Was this what he wanted? Considering the way he was acting, I didn’t get the impression he was excited about the prospect. “Why are you doing this?” A hint of emotion returned to Bishop’s eyes in the form of angry sparks. “Why?” he asked, closing in with Callum at my back. “I told you already. I’m giving you what you want. You want to see what it’s like to be with other men. To keep your options open. This is the perfect opportunity.” Callum’s hands cupped my waist. My heart hammered so fast that I couldn’t catch my breath.

Bishop continued, his words growing more passionate. “You’ve told me you don’t want to be tied down. That you want to sample what’s out there. This is me showing you that if that’s what you really want, I can give that to you. For you.” Was he offering some sort of open relationship? I was stunned. My brain couldn’t keep up. Bishop raised my hands over my head. “Maybe you want one of us to watch. Maybe you’d like both of us at once. That would be a new experience, wouldn’t it, kitten?” Callum trailed his hands down my sides, his hard length now pressing into my backside. Was this really happening? Would Bishop share me if that was what I wanted? I’d read stories about that sort of thing, and it had always sounded hot, but the reality was a far cry from my fantasies. Maybe it was the glacial severity in Bishop’s normally warm gaze, or maybe the fact that I didn’t know Callum at all, but every muscle in my body was tense with apprehension. This didn’t feel good. Not at all. “I don’t think I like this,” I stammered, tugging at my hands to free them. Bishop held firm. “You don’t have to resist, Pippa. This can be anything you want it to be,” he urged. Tears burned the back of my throat. I couldn’t stand the torment any longer and twisted harshly away from them both. “Stop it! Just f*****g stop!” “Why?” he demanded. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” “I never asked for any of this.”