Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I shift on the bed to reach for it, plucking it up from the pile, I hold it up to Bishop as I sit on my knees. He wraps his hand around the polish and my hand, but before pulling away, he leans in and pecks my lips.
However, that doesn’t seem to be enough. Instead of pulling away, he cups the back of my head and deepens the kiss. I moan into his mouth and wrap my arms around his neck.
I give a whimper when he pulls away. I was sort of hoping he’d take things a little further. Who am I kidding? I wanted him to take things a lot further.
Unfortunately for my pulsing kitty, he takes a seat on the bed and pulls me close before tugging my legs from beneath me and into his lap. I tilt my head to the side as I watch him shake the bottle of polish and pat it against his palm.
“What do you plan to do with all the rest?” I say, glancing at all the other bottles.
He shrugs. “I’ll probably ship them home for date nights when I have you at my place.”
“Oh, so there will be date nights?” I say teasingly.
“Date nights, sleepovers, vacations, fly outs, you name it,” he says with a sexy wink.
“Fly outs?”
“Yeah, I’ll have shows around the world. If you’re not already there for some reason, I’ll fly you out to spend time with me.”
I love the way he says it so simply. As if I should already know this. Since we made things official, he’s been doing that a lot—speaking in absolutes.
Almost like it’s forever implied that I’ll be a part of his life. I’m sort of digging the possessiveness, but it’s more than that. It’s a sense of comfort that we feel with each other.
I can’t help but smile as he bends his head over my toes and paints them. Loose strands of hair surround his face. He’s surprisingly gentle with his large, warm hands.
My mind goes to visions of him doing this for his little girls. The way he spoke of being a father, I know he would. I can see them smiling at their father happily while Bishop paints their toes and sings them whatever song he comes up with for them.
I’m completely through as those little girls begin to form in my head as little versions of me. Right on cue, he begins to hum while he paints. It doesn’t sound like one of the songs I’ve heard already, telling me he’s getting a new song in his head.
He blows on my toes and lifts his gaze to mine. I smile and wiggle my little piggies. Bishop lifts my foot and kisses my big toe.
“How did I do?”
“You’re good at this.”
He shoots me a wink and at first, I believe he’s going to make me ask how he’s so good at this. I even think of not asking, not sure I want the answer. However, when he speaks up, I learn something new about Bishop.
“In high school, I was fascinated by nail polish. I wasn’t confident enough at first to wear it on my hands. So, for a while, I painted my toes.
“Only my family and people who I was comfortable around in my home knew when they saw me barefoot around the house and by the pool.
“Eventually, I got over it and did my hands too. I got good at painting them myself,” he explains.
“And here I thought you were going to tell me about an ex or something.”
I smirk and look at him through my lashes. He gives me a heated stare, allowing his eyes to roll over my body. I bite my lip, waiting for his next move.
“I like you jealous. It looks sexy on you.”
“You think so?”
He snorts. “Very. I thought I told you about looking at me like that,” he rumbles.
“I don’t think I heard you,” I say innocently.
His sparkling blue eyes take me in heatedly. Then he pounces. I squeal and fall back against the bed beneath him. He nips at my neck as he snakes his hand between my legs.
He pushes my panties aside as he kisses my neck. A growl comes from his lips as he finds my folds weeping for him. I gasp as he pushes his fingers into me and bites down on my neck.
“Bishop,” I whimper.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be singing my name like a prayer,” he breathes into my ear, causing me to gush for him.
Just to be snarky, I begin to sing his name to the tune of “Ave Maria.” He bursts into laughter and kisses the side of my face, not stopping his ministrations. I moan as his long fingers move in and out of me.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” he chuckles against my lips.