A SECRET SIN

16

“About you owning me?” I shot back, alcohol inhibiting my self-preservation instincts.

“About you. And me. About who has a right to touch you.” His baritone voice grated against my

skin with hostile possession, yet every muscle in his body was clenched with practiced restraint. He

was a master of self-control in a way I hadn’t expected.

“I was having a girls’ night out, Bishop. Not hooking up.”

“What you were doing on that dance floor had nothing to do with a girls’ night and everything to

do with me. You were sending a message, and I received it loud and clear.” He was right. I had

lashed out in an admittedly passive-aggressive manner and was feeling more and more embarrassed

about it by the second.

I opened my mouth to start a subtle retreat but didn’t get the chance. A large man stepped partially

in front of me, angling himself between Bishop and me.

“Hey, man. Sounds like the girl isn’t interested,” the man slurred. I stepped out from behind him,

knowing this wouldn’t help matters, and ended up with his arm draped around my shoulders. “Don’t

worry, sugar. I got you.”

I nearly gagged at his whiskey-soaked breath. This was bad on so many levels. If my inner alarm

bells hadn’t sounded before, they certainly did now.

“That’s okay,” I tried to assure him. “He’s a friend. You can go.” I tried to extract myself from his

hold, but he pulled me in tighter.

“Nah, you shouldn’t have to put up with that s**t,” the man slurred. “Come back inside, and I’ll

buy you a drink.” He grinned down at me and turned us back toward the front door, his hand drifting

down toward my ass.

“Take your f*****g hands off her before you get yourself hurt.” Bishop’s warning sliced through

the night air with lethal calm.

The man twisted back around, finally releasing me. “That some kind of threat? Because I’m not

afraid of a skinny cunt like you.” He had several inches on Bishop and at least fifty pounds. It wasn’t

muscle, but still enough of a size difference to send my heart clambering into my throat.

Before I could say a word to defuse the situation, Bishop’s fists shot forward in two vicious

strikes that sent the man lifeless to the ground. He never even had a chance.

I stared in shock as blood began to seep from the man’s nose. Onlookers gasped and hollered,

some cheering and others exclaiming in anger as they drew closer to check out the scene.

A strong hand clasped around mine. “Let’s get the f**k out of here,” Bishop growled, pulling me

away from the growing crowd. I was too stunned to do anything but follow.

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.