Page 75 of Bishop's Queen

She dropped her chin, hating that sadness had unexpectedly crept into place. Ella had replaced Eloise as much as she had run away from Bishop. Even hearing the name hurt. Bishop had never been a guy to shy away from owning his feelings. Until it had ended. Until they couldn’t stand being together when they’d needed each other.

“El?”

Smiling to cover up where her mind had gone, she didn’t want it to ruin what was here and now—something that felt amazing and had saved a crappy day. “Sorry.”

“It slipped,” he said, referencing the almost name. “Happens sometimes, but I’m catching myself.”

What could she say? Before she had cut and run, they’d both realized they wouldn’t talk about his sister. Ella had left him mentally before she had literally—just stopped talking to him. Ella, the girl now who couldn’t live without the phone in her hand and talked nonstop to strangers, which he had to be painfully aware of, hadn’t been able to talk to him when he’d probably needed her the most.

No wonder his pants were still on. She categorically sucked as a human being, forget how she ranked as a girlfriend.

Ella bit her lip, lost in her thoughts, when he rubbed his hands on her arms.

“Come back to me,” he half joked.

She dragged her mind back to reality, to the man that deserved better, who sat in front of her. Maybe she’d been a pain in his side since they reconnected in order to avoid this exact moment. Putting him in her Smart Car? She cringed. Bishop was too good for her. How he wasn’t married with a brood of babies, she didn’t know. Oh yeah. She’d literally chased him off to war.

Well hell…

Bishop dropped his head back and sighed. “You want to get dressed?”

This would be even more awkward than she’d thought, and they hadn’t even had sex. Her heart sank as she slid back.

“Nope.” Bishop caught her wrist. “No. No way, Crazy.”

“No,what?”

He pulled her closer. “You can’t give me sad eyes likeI’mthe one who doesn’t want to.”

“You’re a guy. You always want to.” But did he really? Hispantswere still on.

He scoffed. “You know me better than that when it comes to you.”

Visions of his restraint, of his walking away, of his offers to find a replacement after she kissed him replayed in her head. She couldn’t explain what she understood.

“What I want to know”—he grabbed the towel, covering her shoulders as though that was what needed covering, then dropped his palms to her bare waist—“is why do you,did you, say all that tonight? About us hooking up?”

Her mouth moved, but nothing intelligent came out, just something that sounded similar to “Ah-um…”

“Old times’ sake?” His dull green eyes narrowed. “Or was it just needing something to get over this stalker shit?”

He had to have known that wasn’t why she would do this.

“Okay, okay.” He smiled and shrugged. “That was an awkward question. We’ll just go with I’m a stud, you’re attracted to me, horny as hell and—”

“Bishop!” When he broke down his uber-serious routine, his funny-guy act killed and made her laugh. She batted his chest, and he laughed too.

“Seriously, Ella.” He caught her hand and threaded his fingers into hers. “You’ve been scared, and I’m your security blanket. It’s all good. Okay?”

The towel didn’t cover anything, and the vulnerability of this conversation exposed her more than spreading her legs. She stared over his shoulder, letting her gaze drift to the carpet.

“El, look at me.”

“I’d rather not.” It would be much easier to keep the rawness inside, where he couldn’t get firsthand knowledge of it.

“Ella,” he growled.

She jumped, and their eyes locked.

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