Page 49 of Bishop's Queen

“Busted.” Ella’s voice made him jump.

He spun around, feeling guiltier than hell at being caught red handed. “Shit, sorry.” His cheeks heated. He was surprised to have been so lost that he didn’t hear her approach. “I wasn’t snooping.”

Her blue eyes narrowed. “You totally were.”

He totally was. “I mean… sorry.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Is FB doing better?”

“I think so. He’s knocked out with Little Kitty on the couch.”

“You can’t run out, El. Just because he has to go—”

“I—”

“I’m serious.” He gave her a once-over, and surprisingly, she looked better than she had before he’d gotten in the shower. “You’re feeling better, I guess?”

Ella shrugged. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve seen. Just caught me off guard while at home. You know? I didn’t expect it.”

Bishop chewed the inside of his cheek. “I didn’t expect to see this.”

“What? A real space that wasn’t perfect and ready to go live on video?”

He shifted, taking in the comfortably uncoordinated room. “Well, yeah.”

“My job is a lifestyle. I live it. But I also need some time off too. You’re not always Titan, are you?”

He raised an eyebrow.

She put up her hand as if she couldn’t handle his world. “Don’t answer that.”

“You don’t sleep in that other bedroom?”

“It’s a guest room. Technically, the master. Even though people think it’s my room. I never outright say it’s mine. I don’t know…” She bit her lip.

Their conversation about authenticity came to mind. “El. That’s safe and smart. And it makes me ten kinds of thrilled.”

She looked up. Her eyes dropped to his bare chest, and her cheeks heated. Then her gaze shot back to his again. “Well… good. Thanks.”

He’d forgotten that he was half dressed, but he hadn’t missed the way her eyes raked across his chest. He didn’t work out for anyone but himself. But for the hungry look she had just fought, he would do it every day. Too bad she now looked everywhere but at him. Color pinked her cheeks, making her irresistible. Even her nipples had pearled against the front of her shirt. Her distraction-worthy breasts were a weakness of his, and the thought of them in her personal space with just that thin shirt as a barrier? Torture.

Years ago… it had been so long. She would sit in his lap, and he could have her chest in his face. He would lick and love her tits, letting the hard tips roll on his tongue. He vividly remembered how she sounded when his teeth tugged.

He inhaled deeply, not needing to go there. “Is… my shirt dry yet? I can throw it in—”

“I just threw it in. So no.”

“Right.” God, she was beautiful andoff limits—a reminder he needed to say over and over, apparently. He took another deep breath and searched for a new direction, turning to look at her DVD collection. “Which video to watch first?”

“Oh! None.” Her cheeks reheated for an entirely different reason.

He grinned. “Now we’re definitely going to watch one. Let’s see, we can start at the beginning.”

He scanned row after row of DVD dust jackets with homemade labels. Each listed a location and a year. His eyes went to the far corner, to the one that looked to be the oldest. Bishop wondered what Costa Rica almost a decade ago would have in store for him.

“That’s so old,” she protested.

“That’s why we’re starting here.” He popped the plastic open and flipped on the television. Then he slid the disc into a DVD player and hit play.

The tropics lit up the screen, exactly like he could’ve guessed. Water and sand. Boring enough.

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