Inch by mind-stealing inch, she rocked her hips. He thrust into her, until gasping and panting, Ella was fully seated. Then his mouth sealed on hers.
“Better than I remember.” Bishop squeezed her, delving her mouth with his, lashing his tongue, and she was lost.
Her breasts bounced, scratching against his chest hair, and her orgasm came faster than she could scream his name. Ella bucked, arching in his arms as he held her still, keeping his cadence. Deep and strong.
But his mouth went to her ear. “Come, Ella. Now, babe.”
She exploded, her inner muscles rippling, almost painfully as intense as the climax was. “Yes!”
“Ella, my Ella,” he growled in her ear. “I want to hear that again.”
He stood, still deep inside her pulsing, rippling pussy, and walked them to the bed as she caught her breath against his neck, drowning in the familiar taste of his skin.
Slowly, he withdrew and slid back inside, holding himself on top of her.
“So…” she drew out. “Sensitive.”
“Easy,” he whispered again. Long and slow. Deep and… meaningful. His mouth found her neck, and she languidly knotted a hand in his hair.
Mmmmm. This was heaven. Her head dropped to the side, and the mirror caught her eye. Bishop’s powerful body over her, making love to her. His sculpted ass rhythmically moving, his corded back flexing. He was a work of art, and draped together… they were beautiful.
Bishop stilled, his fast breath in her ear. “You okay?”
His panting breaths tickled, and slowly, she nodded, not turning away from the mirror. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, off them. He was gorgeous. She was fine with how she looked, but it wasn’t that. It was them.
His tongue caressed her ear. “What is it?”
“Look,” she whispered.
He kissed down her neck before turning his head, then his body went rigid. Every muscle tightened. His dark-green eyes found hers in the mirror, and they locked in a silent conversation before he kissed her neck. “Don’t take your eyes off mine.”
Bishop rolled his hips, flexing his shaft deep inside. Moaning, she couldn’t look away, couldn’t keep from staring at the powerful man making love to her.
“Wrap your legs around me, Ella.”
She did, and he went deeper. Her mouth hung open, wanton, watching in the mirror.
“See that?” he asked.
Barely. Ecstasy made her blind. “Yes.”
“That’s what I dreamt of.”
Her face shot to his, abandoning the mirror and their erotic show. Slowly, he turned to face her. In and out, long and slow, Bishop fucked her to the brink of insanity. Tears burned her eyelids. The impending orgasm tightened, but she didn’t want to come, because then this moment would be over. Two old lovers reconnecting.
“Oh…” She couldn’t help it. Knees pinching to his sides, fingernails raking his back, she cried, “Please.”
He pistoned, pumping short and harsh, grunting. His growling kisses bit her lips and clashed with her tongue.
Her sight slipped away as sparks exploded. “Bishop, God!”
Ella came, and he strained, coming with her. Bishop knotted a hand in her hair and wrapped the other around her in a hug that sent her flying higher than her climax. Together, they gasped and clung, lost in each other.
One by one, her muscles relaxed, and his hug loosened until they were a cuddling mass of arms and legs. His lips pressed to her temple. Her eyes fluttered as she realized that this was exactly how she wanted to go to sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Bishop woke with one arm numb and a face full of Ella’s hair. Despite what had to be mid-morning light shining into the hotel room, he could have easily fallen back asleep, breathing her in after gathering her closer.
But instead, he remained still. When had he slept past the break of dawn? He couldn’t remember. Running his tongue along his raw lips, he replayed the night before—all the way to when they had said good night and he’d kissed the top of her head—he wouldn’t have changed a thing.
Ella, though? No telling how she would wake, and he would brace for that storm. They’d needed last night. For stress relief. Maybe he would get a reprieve from the ultimate dick move he’d pulled fifteen years ago. Hell. Who was he kidding? If they ever came to that bridge, he would have to figure out what was involved in a fucking grovel.
There was likely an email on his phone with an update from Titan. Whoever was messing with Ella had better hope that the FBI found him first. With each passing day, Bishop wanted to play bodyguard less and hunter more. That was in his blood, not this wait-and-react bullshit.
Anxious to see what Titan had learned, he shifted to reach the nightstand. Ella snored quietly and went back to her peaceful sleep as he failed to dislodge himself. Now that was funny, and he stifled a laugh. If someone would make that a video, her little snore would get mega hits, though who knew if Tara-publicist-from-hell would shit for a lack of flawless makeup and perfect talking points.
On second thought, it would go viral, and her publicist would finally be on Team Bishop. But then the entire world would have access to the sleeping beauty in his arms, and territorial pride wanted this view for his own. So that would be a no-go.
She stirred again and nuzzled against him. She’d always had a crazy streak, had always been passionate. How had he not seen the woman she would become? Did he know the last time they were in bed that it would be the last time?
No. Maybe…
He’d lied. He should’ve called her or done something to show he wasn’t an unfeeling asshole, running off like he had. Little did she know it was to fucking hide. However, if someone was going to be a bitch and hide, the army was a good place to do it—though the Rangers would’ve kicked his ass for ever thinking about the word hide. Bishop closed his eyes and thought about the last day he saw her.
“What are you doing here?” Eloise stared with dark circles under her eyes from across the bursar’s office.
“Paperwork.” Of all the people and all the places, Bishop couldn’t handle her there. He’d signed his life away to the army and needed to pull out of school. But he couldn’t look at her, couldn’t tell her that or explain how angry he was at the world. He wouldn’t tell her he was leaving—not now.
“Sorry I haven’t called,” she said, biting her lip. “I’ll make it up to you.”
They were the worst couple on the planet. “Sure.”
Eloise wrapped her arms across her chest and didn’t say good-bye as she drifted away, in a current of students.
Ella’s eyelashes fluttered, and she snuggled into him again. The girl still woke up slowly, and he still loved the show. That hadn’t changed, reminding him of first kisses that they’d promised would be their last. First nights spent together, first mornings. Damn it. Didn’t matter, though. Could time heal all?
No. Not everything. Some hurts were still as raw as they were fifteen years ago.
“Hi.” Ella repositioned, letting blood flow to his arm, and tugged the sheets higher on her chest. “Should we do awkward morning after or pretend nothing happened and go for brunch?”
He curled his fingers, making a fist, as the fresh blood flowed strong into his arm. “Gee, I was hoping for a vegan brunch.”
Her sleepy smile was pretty fucking cute. “I’ve broken you of your jerky ways.”
“Don’t make me call you Crazy again.” He stretched, now that all the feeling was back in his arm, then reached for his phone. It was after ten. Wow, that was something. Thumbing his email open, he saw that there was additional intel from HQ about what had happened last night. But he wasn’t ready to get out of bed and didn’t want to talk business now that Ella was awake.
“You were staring at me.”
He tossed the phone down and went with a bold-face lie. “Nope, I was checking emails.”
“When I woke up.”
“I had lost all feeling in my extremity and was contemplating moving your h
ead and shoulders.”
They were both buck-ass naked, raw as hell from mind-blowing sex, and neither were acknowledging that anything had shifted. Or had it?
“I need some coffee.” She rolled away from him and sat up. “And more clothes.”
It had not, according to her mannerisms and tone. Straight-laced and serious. Her hair was a testament to their night in bed even though she’d finger-combed it for the thirty seconds it had taken him to get up and throw the condom away. Last night ended on an easy note.
This… this would be work. But hell. Bishop killed every job he ever had. Eco-Ella was work to begin with, and Awkward-Ella was no different than Crazy-Ella. All were the same girl he was once in love with long ago… His-Ella.
Problem was, was that what he wanted?
For sure, he wanted Titan. The job would understand if eventually this girl became his girl. But that wasn’t the basis of their real problem, the one never dealt with. Enlisting in the army hadn’t done shit but bury feelings, and—
“I can’t function without coffee,” she repeated—as though maybe he’d missed her mention of caffeine—while also doing her best to wrap the sheet around her. “We should go do something about that.”
He rolled to her side of the bed, both their naked legs dangling, her bicep now touching his. “You’re all morning-after awkward.”
She elbowed him. “I am not!”
His side eye earned him another elbow, but he caught it that time and held her in place. “Chill out with the sheet.”
“I am chill.”
“You’re questionable at the moment.”
She rolled her eyes, and he stood up. Her eyes dropped to his junk then shot up, looking over his shoulder.
“El, you’ve seen it before. Think you can again.”
Her cheeks flared red. “Oh-kay.”
“You actually did way more than see it.” He bobbed his eyebrows, laughing quietly. “Last night and from back in the day. You’ve seen my goods, maybe more than any other person, ever. Cumulatively speaking.”
Cheeks and neck blotchy with embarrassment, she glued her eyeballs to the ceiling. “Got it.”
“I’m staring at you, babe. You can—” She tugged the rumpled comforter as though she wanted to bury herself in it, and he caught it. “Don’t hide on me.”
“Oh, come on. This is silly.”
“You want to see silly, Ella? Because I think in saving all the turtles and taking down Wall Street with a stalker breathing down your neck and a publicist who needs to chill the fuck out, you’ve forgotten what the hell silly looks like.”
“Yeah, yeah. Silly.” Rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out, she made a decent attempt at a face to appease him.
“Amateur silly.”
Her mouth gaped. “No way.”
“You, babe.” He let go of the covers and stood up. “Are too high-strung.”
“Says Mister Badass Army Ranger, Sir.”
“Trust me.” He shook his hips. “Soldiers know how to get down.”
Her wide eyes matched her still-gaping mouth. “What are you doing?”
He had no fucking clue, but damn it to hell, the woman needed some fun in her life that wasn’t programmed, publicity-driven, planned, or because of ratings. Bishop arched his eyebrow, rolled his hips, and watched her eyes drop, fight back up, and drop again.
“Would you stop!” she snapped, her hands covering her mouth.
He laughed, flexing his muscles for her and watching her nipples harden. What was this? Kind of a mix between Magic Mike and the Arnold bodybuilding competition? Hip shake, flex, cock thrust. What a pattern…
Her fingers splayed. “You are an awful dancer.”
“You’re hiding a smile.” He thrust his hips, making his hardening cock reach for her.
“Bishop O’Kane!”
The point of this wasn’t to turn her on, but those dark cherry nipples were beaded tight. He stroked his cock and rolled his hips. “Fuck it, Ella. When you let go…” He moved bedside and tilted her head back with a light tug of her hair. “You’re you. Not the girl you are for everyone else.”
She drew back. “What?”
“Be the real girl in the bedroom with me. Not the one you put on display.”
She recoiled. “I need coffee.”
“Bullshit.” He dropped between her thighs, pushing them wide.
“Bishop—Bishop.”
He wasted no pleasantries in getting what he wanted, her clit on his tongue, her taste searing his senses. Bishop groaned against her skin, sucking her clit until her ass lifted off the bed, then he ran circles and kisses over the delicate skin.
Listening to her try to control herself was a treat—hell, a challenge. His tongue ran along her seam, and he shouldered her legs wide open.
“God,” Ella gasped.
“Whatever you say.” His fingers and tongue stroked her open. She writhed on the edge of the bed, and her wetness tasted like coming home.
She wriggled and moaned, and he hadn’t even finger-fucked her yet, but maybe she was close.
“Bishop,” she gasped. Quiet. Too quiet.
“Ella.” Bishop buried his face into her, lapping and kissing, holding her down before he paused. “If I don’t hear you screaming like a banshee, I don’t want you getting off.”
Then he went back to work to prove his point. He kissed her until the hotel room neighbors would complain, until her hands ripped into his hair. And as she let loose, she screamed his name as loud as a full war cry.
Ella collapsed onto the bed, and—
Bam. Bam. Bam. “We get it. He’s great! Shut up!”
“Oh my God!” Ella covered her face with a pillow, and Bishop fell back on his butt, laughing.
He crawled onto the bed with her, pulling her pillow-covered face into his arms. “We should escape for coffee.”
“I’m never leaving this room or taking this pillow off my face,” she mumbled. “Ever.”
He leaned over and kissed her breast.
“Bishop!”
Laughing, he rolled his eyes at the people next door. “Screw ‘em.”
Ella peeled the pillow back and eased herself onto him, draping her body across his chest. “How about me instead?”
Damn… “Sorry, babe. I didn’t come fully stocked for a hotel room funfest.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“No more condoms,” he painfully confirmed.
“Oh.” She slunk down his chest, dropping wet kisses and raking her nails. “Guess we should see if you can scream like a banshee too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jay walked in step with Manny after volunteering to help with the pet-walking. He wrapped and unwrapped Furry Baby’s leash around his hand, annoyed that Manny loved to do this, and that this was the second walk of the day he’d had to do. Jay did not love to do this, and Ella still wasn’t home.
The sun was high overhead, reaching toward noon, and Manny was still chattering about all of the coverage that Eco-Ella had had. “It was on every single channel! And this morning, it was on every single blog. Every single website. Ella was trending. Did you see how beautiful she looked? And her speech,” he gushed.
Jay agreed for the thousandth time. Ella had been perfect. Everything about last night was a career culmination. Together, he and Ella had been waiting for this moment. It was everything they had dreamed about, and she had thrown herself into Bishop’s arms to celebrate—in the middle of the auditorium, surrounded by thousands of their peers, surrounded by media, surrounded by industry and publicists and reporters and journalists and bloggers. She’d embarrassed him.
His temples pounded. A headache he hadn’t been able to shake since that moment wanted to explode in his head. White rage colored Jay’s peripheral vision. Some moments in his game with Ella were about teaching her a lesson. Sometimes, his actions were simply about getting back together.
Right now? This was different.
Right now, he wanted to tea
ch Bishop a lesson.
Bishop O’Kane was shit. He was nothing more than a guy hiding behind muscles and a gun.
Manny dropped down to give the dog a hug. “We are so lucky your mama is the most famous person in the world.”
“She isn’t the most famous person in the world, Manny. Give it some perspective.”
“Ha.” Manny laughed as if Jay was joking. “Can you believe that we are a part of the Eco-Ella team? I even called my mom.”
Speaking of parents, Jay still had to call Ella’s father. He hadn’t quite mapped out the right words to explain the Bishop problem. But he realized something as they were standing outside of her condo. He watched maintenance men clean up the mess that he’d paid some random kid on MonarchMoney to make last night, hoping to scare Ella into his arms. And he realized the games weren’t working anymore. The flowers, the scary pictures—none of it was working. And why would it when she had a bodyguard?
If Ella couldn’t be with Jay, then she shouldn’t be with anybody. Though she wasn’t with Bishop. That asshole was just impeding their relationship.
Bishop.
Damn it, Jay was becoming as obsessed with Bishop as he was Ella.
“I’ll go upstairs with you,” Jay said. “Check on Little Kitty.”
“Oh, no way.” Manny shook his head, wagging his finger. “No can do, Jay. You know that.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know I can’t let anybody into her condo. I’ve never been able to let anybody into her condo.” Manny whistled through his teeth. “And Bishop? He would fire me.”
“Bishop cannot fire you.”
“Not only could Bishop fire me, I would let him. He’s crazy hot.” Manny faux-swooned. “Bonus points if he did it while growling.”
“Come the hell on. First, Bishop can’t fire you. Second, do not discuss how that man looks—”
Manny fanned himself. “Hot. H-O-T.”
“Enough, Manny.” Jay threw the leash at the dog walker and stormed around the corner as Manny’s confused questions fell on his back.
He pulled out his cell phone and hit redial again. And again. Now it just went straight to voice mail. Earlier at least, his calls had rung through. “This is bullshit.”
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