Page 120 of Bad Bishop
She nodded.
“And never,evergo anywhere I’m at unless it’s a place you know is safe for you—Fermanagh’s, your parents’, your brothers’, etcetera.”
“So you could cheat on me?” She frowned at me furiously.
I almost laughed. Unfortunately, I had no spare energy to muster since all my blood was in my cock right now.
I ate the distance between us in half a step, lifting her face up to mine. “Tell me you’re jealous, and I promise I’ll never touch another woman again. It would be the first time I keep my word, but for you, I’ll do it.” My gaze dropped to her pouty, pink lips.
I hadn’t touched anyone. Not since that night with Becky. But I needed her to admit I wasn’t the only one going crazy here.
She tipped her chin up, examining me through hooded eyes.
“You make me jealous.” Her throat worked around a swallow. “You make me so sick with jealousy I can barely even stand it when you speak to other people. I’m jealous of the clothes you wear. Of the soap you use. Of the air you breathe. I hate so much that I like you. But the truth is…I do.”
True to herself, there was nothing cautious and measured about the way she said things.
She was intrepid and direct and much,muchbraver than I was. At least in that regard.
And I was done fucking talking, anyway.
My mouth came down hard against hers, my fist instinctively tightening around her hair from behind. Her arms locked around my neck. The kiss was carnal and desperate. Greedy and wet and sloppy, and my heart picked up, and my entire bleeding existence enhanced.
I’d been reduced to nothing but desire because of this woman, and now I was sneaking in other people’s toilets for stolen kisses like a teenage fool.
I grabbed her ass and hoisted her up, wrapping her legs around me. She weighed next to nothing, even pregnant, and again the thought of her assault drifted into my mind.
It was always there, in the back of my head.
An obsession I couldn’t get rid of. A hunger that replaced my need to kill Alex and his siblings.
And yet, I’d been stalling getting that hard evidence against Angelo, instead jerking around exploring other less-likely options. Because Angelo could take her from me.
More accurately, he could try.
And then I’d have to go to war with the Outfit, the Camorra,andthe Bratva to keep her.
It wasn’t an ideal scenario, but one I was 100 percent prepared for.
She was mine. No replacements. No refunds.
“I want to have sex with you.” She spoke out the words into my mouth, our ragged, rough breaths meeting in the middle. “Now.”
God, I loved her voice. It felt like sunrays dancing on water. It fuckingsparkled.
I couldn’t deny her. Much less wanted to.
But I wasn’t going to allow both of our first times to be in the bathroom where the help took their shits.
“Your bedroom upstairs. Now.” I bit down on her lower lip.
I released her momentarily. She grabbed my hand, unlocked the door, and pulled me up the stairs and to her room. My first time in her childhood shrine.
Uncoincidentally, it was a replica of what her mother had prepared in my apartment.
Childish. Unassuming. Infantile.
Flamingo-feathered lamps, a mountain of throws, and a ceiling glittered with stars.
