Chapter Fifteen: Willow

It smells like wood and oiled leather. Probably because this is the room that houses the extra bats and gloves for the team. I blink, my eyes adjusting to the dim fluorescent overhead. When they do, I’m greeted with the sight of Bishop, chest heaving paired with a heated stare that’s eerily similar to the one he gave me earlierwhile defending me.

Once the door clicks closed, he unleashes on me. “What the hell was that with Carson?”

My brows raise and I smirk as my hands dig into the curve of my hips, fully preparing to poke the bear. “Oh hello, Bishop. Of course, I’d love to talk with you in this tiny equipment closet. Why was I talking to a member of my team? Oh, I don’t know? Maybe because I’m the owner and he wanted to offer his condolences.”

“You don’t need to be talking with him,” he growls. “Any of them. You don’t need to show up to practices. It’s a distraction.”

His declaration catches me off guard, but I quickly catch up and refuse to believe the audacity he’s displaying. “Oh, so it’s only okay when I’m your distraction.”

Bishop’s jaw tightens. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” I press, not entirely sure how we got here, but I can’t deny there’s a small part of me that likes seeing Bishop unsettled. Not upset or spiraling, but on his toes, in a way I don’t think very many people keep him.

Amusement sparkles in my eyes, and I wait for his snarky response. When Bishop remains quiet, I change the subject, hoping it will catch him off guard. “You want to tell me why you just stormed out of that meeting?”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Hard pass. Did you think about my proposition?”

“Nope, not until you answer me first.”

Bishop’s hard stare is as unwavering as my own. Tension crackles between us, neither willing to budge. Several seconds go by, and his chocolate eyes burn a hole straight through me as his jaw flexes. That’s when I realize we can’t keep circling each other. It isn’t helping anyone, least of all us.

I take a step toward him, to which Bishop responds by taking a step back.

“Are you really not going to say anything?”

Another step for each of us.

“What do you want me to say?”

Another step. Only this time, Bishop is greeted by the rattling of bats as his back hits the rack.

A moment of silence stretches between us, but it’s not enough to break the chasm of tension that sits in the mere inches separating us.

I tip my head, unwilling to back down now.“Tell me why you walked out. Prove to me you want this distraction to continue, because I can’t agree unless we’re in this together. You use me. I use you. But we have to talk to one another. I won’t just be a fuck toy.”

Bishop lets out a scoff, but I don’t miss the hurt that flashes across his face. “Is that what you think I see you as?”

“Prove me wrong.” There’s no mistaking thechallenge in my voice, but if you asked my heart, it would say it’s more of a plea.

From the moment he asked for one more night, there was a part of me that wanted to say yes. I hadn’t realized how big that part was until just now. But if I’m going to do this, I need to be more than just a one-night stand. It’s playing with fire. It’s asking to get hurt. If I’m going to do this, I need to know that I’m making a difference. I want to be his distraction, but I also want to know why he needs it. I want him to know why he needs it.

Bishop opens his mouth to speak but pauses, rubbing a hand down his face for a second before meeting my gaze. “The deal was physical, not honesty.”

“Then there’s nothing for us to discuss,” I say softly and turn my back on him.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters low enough that I can barely make out the words.

I pause mid-step and wait for him to continue. When he doesn’t, I look over my shoulder at his slumped shoulders and vacant stare. “Me too.”

“I just—” His voice trails off and I turn around, watching as he chews on whatever words he is trying to piece together. “You want the truth? Yesterday was Tommy’s birthday.”

My breath stalls in my chest as I see Bishop’s eyes darken with defeat. I close the space between us and take his forearm in my hand. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“He would’ve been thirty,” he says softly. He stares over my head at the spot I previously occupied as he still clings to me, sliding his arm so our fingers intertwine.

I give him a soft squeeze, encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t know how to play without them. I don’t know how to walk into the locker room and not see their ghosts. Listening to you talk about them like they aren’t a part of this team anymore—” He hesitates, and I’m left hanging on his every word. Savoring the pieces of himself he’s giving me. “They might not be important to you or everyone else, but they’re all I’ve ever known. I don’t know how to be me without them. Fuck. This is why I came to you.” He blinks and when he opens his eyes, they are locked on mine. “This is why I—Shit, I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.” He runs his free hand through his already tousled hair, and it takes everything in me not to wrap my arms around him and promise everything is going to be okay. Because I can’t promise that. As much as I would like to, I won’t lie to him.

“I’m sorry for my outburst. I shouldn’t have taken this out on you in the middle of your speech. It wasn’t what I wanted to do. I just needed to get out of there. I needed space to breathe. I just—” Bishop’s chest heaves as he tries, and fails, to inhale deeply. “Does it ever stop?”

“What?”

“The pain,” he clarifies, then adds, “is it the same as when your mom died?”

I swallow hard, stalling as I try to filter through the truth of his question. He wants an answer, but nothing I have to say is going to help. Not really.

“Yes. And no. Losing a parent is the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced.” It’s an answer I’ve rehearsed over and over. It’s what I tell the kids at Renegade Hearts and the press when they ask. But for Bishop, I elaborate. “But, as much as I love my mother, it doesn”t change that she was terrible toward me. My dad and I were much closer, especially in the last few years. Losing him hurts infinitely more.”

“I’m sorry you lost him.”

I’m stunned, frozen into place. I’m two for two on apologies today. Except, unlike when Carson offered his condolences, when Bishop says his first real apology, the tears fall freely.

Bishop is quiet for a moment, and I pray he doesn’t ask the question I know he”s dying to. It’s the same question I asked my father over and over. The same question I ask myself on the rare occasion I allow myself to open the box I’ve got locked away tight in my mind and to grieve.

Of course, praying doesn’t stop him from asking.

“Does it get better?”

I look away, but my entire body feels the weight of his stare. It’s all I can do to nod once. Twice. Three times. Lies every single one of them.

Because while time does heal, the pain never goes away. There will always be moments when the universe reminds you they’re gone. It plays tricks on you and forces the good memories to overtake the bad. Until the moment you remember everything they’re missing. The birthdays and holidays they’ll never celebrate again.

I bite my lip to stop myself from releasing the sob that threatens to overtake me. “It won’t feel better for a long time. But eventually, you feel less like you’re drowning and more like you’ve got an elephant on your chest. And then one day it’s only a dull ache instead of a death sentence.”

“How long?”

I can’t stand the desperation in his voice. The silent plea for me to deliver encouraging news. But I can’t.

“I’ll let you know when I get there.” A sad smile crosses my lips.“That’s why I told you it’s about learning to live. Not learning to be okay.”

Bishop lets out a weighted sigh and leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine. “You’re right there with me, aren’t you?”

I nod softly against him, unable to put into words how right he is. I’d love to tell him there’s a one-size-fits-all solution, but there isn’t. Some days you’re able to wake up, and for a few minutes, you forget. You live for those moments. Then other days are so debilitating you can hardly breathe. Some days you get the two-for-one deal and experience both before lunch.

Today is that day for me. The swing between considering Bishop’s offer and missing my father, followed by Bishop”s outburst, has me feeling weightless and like I’m drowning at the same time.

I look up, and this close, I can see the light brown flecks in Bishop’s otherwise dark bronze stare. My tongue darts out, and his eyes track the movement before returning to mine.

“Distract me.” The words are past my lips before I can think twice.

Bishop pulls back and searches my face. “Are you sure?”

No. Not even a little bit, but I think he’s right when he says we can’t do this alone. And even though I might regret this the moment we leave this equipment room, for right now I need this, and so does he.

We’re doing whatever we have to in order to live.

The moment I nod, I’m stunned by the brutal force of Bishop’s lips against mine. I’ve come to expect the change in his kisses. They are no longer the slow, sweet, and gentle kisses I received when we met and at the party. This is rough and passionate, carnal and demanding. My thighs clench when his tongue dives between my lips, not asking but forcing his way in, taking what we both want.

My hand comes up and cradles his stubbled cheek, holding him in place as I pull back. Bishop latches on to my lower lip and rakes his teeth over it, and I can’t help the moan that escapes me.

He cocks a brow, and I smirk past breathless pants.“I think we need some ground rules.”

Bishop wraps his arms around my waist and tugs me against his muscled torso as he huffs a laugh. “We’ve never been good at following those.”

He’s not wrong. Just one night was never just one night and goodbye wasn’t goodbye. That doesn’t mean I can just jump in with both feet and believe we’ll come out of this unscathed. I might be a hopeless romantic, but I’m not stupid.

“First, no one can know.”

He nods. “That’s a given.”

“I mean it, Bishop. If anyone finds out, it won”t be you that”s ridiculed.”

“I wouldn’t let them?—”

I pin a glare in his direction, effectively stopping him mid-sentence. We both know it won’t be him who suffers. The league may give him a slap on the wrist, but just like it has been with the takeover, I’ll be the one they focus on as the failure. I’ll be the woman who took advantage of her position and slept with a player. It doesn”t matter that we have a history or that we’re two consenting adults.

“Okay. No one finds out.”

“Two—piggybacking on that to make sure it stays secret—nothing can happen between us at the stadium.”

“You mean like this?” Bishop leans down and runs his nose along my neck and an almost feral growl vibrates against my flesh.

Goosebumps break out across my skin and a shiver tears through me. “Okay after this.”

Bishop’s chuckle rumbles against my chest, his fingers digging into the swell of my hips. He nips the lobe of my ear and rasps. “Well, there goes my plan to bend you over the railing of the owner”s suite with a view of the whole stadium.”

This man and his filthy mouth never cease to amaze me.

My thighs clench and I almost take back my first rule immediately. Bishop definitely has a thing about bending me over with a view. Times Square. The beach house balcony. And now the stadium. And I absolutely have an exhibition streak because I’ve come from the thrill every single time.

Something to consider for the future. Which brings me to my third point.

I shift between his legs, doing my best to ignore the way his jock strap strains against the tight fabric of his uniform pants. “Three. This has an expiration date. Opening day.”

“Got it,” he murmurs as his hands drift up the side of my torso and across the swell of my breasts to finger the buttons of my powder blue blouse. “What happens at spring training stays at spring training.”

His hands work at the buttons from the top down, exposing the matching lacey blue bra underneath. “Fuck,” he curses. “If it’s not those damn skirts, these lace-covered tits are going to be the death of me.”

I smile with the knowledge I thought of him when I picked my outfit today. I wanted him to squirm in his seat with the need to rip the skirt from my hips. I dreamed of a moment just like this. I never thought I’d be giving life to said dream. Or maybe I did. Manifest destiny and all that.

Running my hands down Bishop”s torso, I untuck the gray and black practice jersey from his pants. “And the last one.” The rule I know he’s going to hate me for. “If we’re going to do this, I’d like for you to agree to see the team therapist regularly.”

Bishop’s hands still against my stomach. “Absolutely no?—”

Despite the fact my heart has stopped and I don’t want to think past the sense of deep aching want, I shake my head. “It’s nonnegotiable. No therapy, no distraction.”

He hesitates, and I watch his heated expression as he clenches his jaw. He wants me—wants this—but is it enough to agree to help himself?

For a split second, I think it’s not before he grits out. “Fine.”

“Do you have any conditions of your own?”

“Only one.” Bishop reaches up and tugs his jersey over his head. He drops it to the floor, standing in only his pants and cleats, proving he plans to do more than shake on this promise. “No feelings.”

I wince, but before I can school my features, Bishop continues.

“As cliché as it sounds, it’s not you, it’s me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” I say, looking away. Not because I believe he would hurt me, but because his rule is one I might struggle with.

“Not intentionally, which is why I want to make it clear this offer is for distraction only. I’ll ensure we forget the bullshit of our day by making you come in every way imaginable. I’ll even play by your rules and let you know why I need to be distracted, but I can’t give you more than that.”

Holding his gaze, I shrug off my blouse. Then I turn and walk the three short steps to the door and flip the lock.

I don’t have more than a moment to react past the reverberating click before Bishop is there. He spins me and, with a hand on my chest bone, presses me into the cool metal of the door.

“Please tell me that’s you saying yes.”

“Yes,” I breathe.

My confirmation is enough to light the fuse between us and in seconds we’re a tangle of limbs and lips.His hand slips down to palm my breast while the other tangles in my hair and pulls my needy mouth to his. His touches are desperate but gentle. Fingertips brush my nipple, causing a ripple of pleasure at the same time as the hand in my hair tugs until I feel that delicious sting of pain.

“Please, Bishop,” I moan against his lips. He sucks my lower lip as he pinches my nipple.

“Fuck, I love when it’s my name you’re moaning.” He groans, dropping his face lower to suck on my pulse point. It simultaneously sends shivers down my spine and a zap of lighting to my clit. “Tell me what you need, Kitten.”

I’m teetering on the edge and hearing him call me the pet name I’ve always loved sends me into a frenzy. “I want you inside me.”

Bishop pulls back and smirks. “Have I told you how sexy it is that you now voice what you want?”

I laugh. “Noted.” But my chest swells with pride. He has no idea he gave me the confidence to speak up. He was the one who inspired me to give into the things I need and fight for the things I want.

“Unbuckle my pants,” he says as he flips my skirt up to reveal my matching lace thong. His hands roam the round of my ass as I work his belt and pants open and push them, along with his briefs and jockstrap, downto his knees.

I inhale a sharp breath when I see the tattoos on Bishop’s left thigh. Each of the individual tattoos holds a special meaning to him. Each of which he explained to me. The bottom of his leg houses the ink he got to commemorate his family, while the space on his thigh is for the moments that have changed his life.

Just like when I saw him in the hotel, my eyes dart across his exposed flesh, looking for any new ink he might have added, but I find none.

“You like what you see?” Bishop grins.

Instead of dignifying him with an answer, I wrap my hand around the base of his cock and slide them from root to tip, dragging my fingertips over the metal bars on the underside of his shaft and eliciting a delicious hiss from Bishop.

“What do you need?” I whisper, echoing his question.

“This.” His hand cups my pussy. “This body with these perfect fucking curves, reminding me the world might be burning around us, but I’ve got this to hold on to.”

Fuck. So much for keeping my feelings locked tight. He can’t say shit like that and expect me to stay impartial.

I’m about to tell him as much, but I’m rendered speechless when he dips his body, wrapping his free hand around my waist, and picks me up. The surprise move forces me to drop his cock and hang onto him so I don’t fall. He presses me into the door at the same time he slides my panties aside and notches his cock at my entrance.“Wrap your legs around me, Kitten. Make room for me.”

“Please,” I beg, writhing my hips forward, seeking the friction only he can give me.

“Tell me again,” he says, thrusting only his head into me.

“Fuck me.” I whimper followed by another panted, “Please.”

We’re both panting as he works his shaft a little deeper with each thrust until he’s completely seated within me, his piercings stretching me further than any other man ever has.

“Don’t stop,” I moan, only minimally aware that between my pleas and the sound of our naked flesh slapping together, we aren’t exactly hiding what we are doing.

“I couldn”t even if I wanted to, Kitten.” Bishop rocks his hips harder and faster, his eyes darkening as he reaches up and wraps his hand around the base of my throat.

I tip my chin up, giving him more of me to hold.

“New rule,” he growls, spearing me with his cock. “This pussy is mine until we’re done with this arrangement.”

I whimper, nodding against his hand as my orgasm starts to tug low in my core.

“Say it, Kitten,” he rasps, his breath hot against my temple. “Tell me no other man will have this.”

“Bishop—”

He angles his hips in a way that hits the deepest part of me at the same time as his pubic bone slams against my clit with every thrust.

“Oh my God,” I cry, digging my nails into his shoulder.

“Say it.”

“Yours,” I moan. “No one else.”

If only it were true.

He pulls back, a wicked smirk on his face. “Good girl. Now come for me.”

Those damn words, paired with the way he tightens his grip, restricting my air supply, have me racing over the edge. My body trembles, my pussy tightening around him like a vise, and suddenly I’m floating.

Bishop pounds into me once, twice, and on the third thrust cries out, coming inside me.

When we’re both no longer shaking, he slides from inside me and sets me on the ground. He pulls up his pants and buckles them before dropping to his knees to right my panties and skirt.

Not that it helps much. I can feel the evidence of what we just did seeping past the flimsy fabric down my thigh.

He stands in front of me and drops his forehead to mine, letting slip a small hum of appreciation.

He lingers a second longer, and I’m just about to ask what happens now, when he sidesteps me and unlocks the door.

It’s like being doused with cold water.

Confusion laces my voice. “Where are you going?”

“I’m a man of my word. Which means if I want this to happen again, I’ve got a date with the team therapist.” He tugs the door open slowly to give me enough time to move out of the way.

“Wait.” I wrap my fingers around the door and stop him before he steps into what I hope is an empty hallway. I’m not exactly sure why I stopped him, but now I need to say something. So, I offer him a lifeline. “Would it help not to use the locker room for now?”

He tilts his head in confusion.

“You said earlier you struggle being in there because it reminds you of the past. What if I can have your things moved to another room that you can use as a makeshift changing room? That way there isn’t the constant reminder, and you can hopefully focus better.”

Bishop scrutinizes my words like he’s looking for the catch. “You’d do that for me?”

“I’m pretty sure I just fucked you to help. This is little more than a call to the groundskeeper.”

His mouth opens and closes again before settling on “thank you.”

I glance up at him and nod. “I know it seems impossible, but you were you before them. You will be you after them. You just need to give yourself a chance.”

He nods. “Can I come by tomorrow night after my appointment with the therapist?”

I hear the silent, I might need it after the session loud and clear.

“Yeah, I have a meeting at six, but I’ll be there.”

He nods again and slips from the room.