Chapter Twenty Six: Bishop

Willow kisses me like I’m the only one who can chase away her demons.

Demons she refuses to share.

Something has her spooked, and I’m trying to respect her wishes and give her the space she needs until she’s ready. The same way she always waits for me. But fuck, I’ve never been one for patience. Not when it comes to taking care of those I lo?—

What was that?Jackson taunts, and I can feel his smirk curl at the edges of my mind.

Nope. Not going there.

Willow is a means to an end. She’s the reason I can get up every morning and do the job I’m meant to without drowning in dark thoughts. Of course, I care about her, but I’m not about to examine those feelings any closer. Especially when I can taste her tears on our lips.

Willow’s hands drop from my face and press against my chest. When she pushes me back, I immediately miss the feel of her lips on mine.

She looks up, and I’m caught off guard by the wicked grin she gives me. It’s a stark contrast to the pain and hurt she wore moments before.

With all the grace of a ballerina, Willow falls to her knees, and my mouth drops along with her. I know exactly what she has in mind long before she fists my warmups between her deft fingers and tugs them and my boxers down, situating them just past my ass.

A grunt passes my lips in protest. As much as I’d love a blowjob, I don’t want this to be solely about me. She needs this too.

“You don’t have to—” The words die on my tongue, replaced with a moan when her lips wrap around the head of my cock. “Oh fuck, Kitten.”

My head falls back, and I reach out and grip the edge of her desk to steady myself as all the blood in my brain rushes south.

I take it back. I want this just as much as I want to please her. I want to let her worship me on her knees before I bury my cock in her tight cunt and wreck her until she’s hoarse from calling out my name.

“I know I don’t have to. I want to,” she says with a smile before sliding my length into her mouth.

Forcing myself to think beyond my cock for two-point-five seconds, I read between the lines of her words. I absolutely believe she wants to. But I also believe she is one hundred percent avoiding whatever it is she doesn’t want to tell me. It’s exactly what I’ve done every time I need a distraction. She’s playing me at my own game, and she’s a fucking pro.

As if she knows my mind is wandering, Willow dances her tongue over the barbels on the underside of my shaft, pulling a needy moan from my throat.

Check mate, Kitten.

For now.

She lets out a low appreciative hum, taking me deeper before pulling back. Her tongue flicks around the crown of my cock, teasing the sensitive nerves below the head before taking me to the back of her throat again. The blonde curls I’ve come to love fall across her face and I curl over her, gathering them in my fist so I don’t miss a moment of watching her devour me.

“Goddamn,” I curse. She’s entirely too good at this.

Willow’s lips tighten around my shaft, causing my hips to thrust forward. She smiles around my cock like a kid with a lollipop and glances up at me. I nearly come at the sight.

Her hands wander over my thighs, squeezing the muscles as she keeps working me over, taking me so deep her nose brushes my pelvis. She’s slow and torturous, but hell if she’s not the most addictive thing.

Then she moans.

She fucking moans with a mouth full of my cock, and I absolutely lose it.

My grip tightens in her hair and I thrust, bouncing her at the tempo I need to chase my release. Willow’s grip tightens on the back of my thighs and she whimpers, but she doesn’t shy away from letting me take control. In fact, she relishes in it. Laying her tongue flat, she hollows out her cheeks, sucking like there are diamonds at the base of my shaft.

“Fuck, just like that, Kitten.” My body sends a jolt of lightning down my spine, begging me to let go, but I want this to last as long as possible. I need this memory to get me through a bus ride and nine innings this afternoon.

The fucking little minx has other plans, though.

Willow slides a hand down, cupping my balls before she takes the backside of her nails to the sensitive skin. The contrast of sucking and scratching hurls me toward release.

Glancing up at me with those mischievous blue eyes, she begs me to let go, waiting and watching so she doesn’t miss the exact moment I come apart.

And I want her to. At this moment, I’m a goddamn masochist living for her to be the one who breaks me.

What does that say about me?

It’s a thought for another time because I can feel my heartbeat in my shaft, signaling I’m not going to be able to hold on for long.

“I’m gonna come,” I pant, and Willow hums her approval.

That”s all I need. My entire body tenses as I force Willow down on my shaft and come so hard my vision fades around the corners.

She rides my orgasm like a champ, and after the final jerk of my hips, I release her head from my grasp. Her sharp inhale sends a bolt of panic through me that maybe I was a bit too rough with her.

“Are you okay?” I rasp.

Willow sits back on her knees, tips her head back, and offers me a sultry smile. I’m about to ask again if she’s okay when she shocks the hell out of me and sticks out her tongue, showing me my release pooled on her tongue.

My eyes go wide, and my dick twitches to life despite having just emptied. “Fuck that is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Willow closes her mouth and swallows hard, then shrugs, like she hasn’t just given me a gift. “I aim to please.”

“That’s a fucking understatement.”

I’m seconds away from clearing her desk and showing her just how much I appreciate her skill set when a knock at the door freezes me in place.

My gaze darts to Willow. Her sultry eyes flood with panic.

She scrambles to her feet, straightening her blouse before leaning over and dusting off the knees of her pants. At the same time, I work my pants back up to my waist, my sensitive dick throbbing against the soft fabric.

“You can’t be here,” she snarls, running her hands through her hair, trying to tame her just been mouth-fucked curls.

She’s right, but I don’t know where she expects me to go. My eyes shift across the room to the glass door that leads to the private box open to the field. Not an option. Even without a home game, there are still plenty of people milling about who could spot me.

There are a few boxes piled against the bookshelves on the opposite wall that I could maybe crouch behind, but there’s no guarantee whoever is at the door wouldn’t see me.

“The desk,” Willow hisses. “Get under it.”

I glance at the giant wooden desk and back at Willow. It’s not a terrible idea considering it goes to the floor, and I’d be completely hidden. That’s if I can manage to get my six-four frame in the tiny space.

I shake my head. “I’m not hiding under your desk.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

I give the room another once over, searching for any other viable option before succumbing to my fate and rounding the desk. It’s a tight fit, but I manage to curl up enough that my head and most of my torso are crammed in the small square. All I can do is pray Willow keeps whoever is at the door on the opposite side of the desk.

“Come in?” Willow hollers.

“You alone? I thought I heard voices.” I recognize the sweet voice belonging to our public relations director, Nikki.

“I was on call,” Willow lies with ease.

“Oh good. I was worried about you after the meeting. It was—Well, let’s just say I wasn’t expecting it to go that way.”

What meeting did she have this morning? And with who? Is that why she was on the verge of tears when she showed up?

Willow sighs. “That makes two of us. Though, I can’t say I’m surprised, but I was hoping for better.”

“They’re good plans, Willow. I know you and I aren’t close by any means—and forgive me for speaking candidly—but those crotchety old bastards don’t know what they are talking about. Your father would have been proud of what you’re trying to do.”

Plans? What plans? And which crotchety old bastards are going to be meeting the business end of my fist for making her cry?

“Thank you for saying so,” Willow offers, but by her voice she doesn’t sound convinced. “Was there something I can help you with?”

“Oh, yes.” There’s a shuffling of papers before Nikki continues. “After the meeting, I went to my office and brainstormed for the interview with Bishop.”

What fucking interview?

I jerk up and hit my head on the top of the desk and silently curse, while Willow sends herself into a coughing fit.

“Are you okay?” Nikki asks. “Do you need some water?”

Seething, I silently lean into the front of the desk, as if that will somehow make it easier to hear the conversation.

“No, I’m fine,” Willow chokes out. “Just something tickling the back of my throat.”

She definitely did have something in the back of her throat five minutes ago, though I’m surprised she was able to swallow past the lies she tells.

Because you always tell her the truth right off the bat.

Great, the peanut gallery is back.

But for once, they aren’t spitting truths. I might not have given Willow a chance right after the crash, but I’ve given her all my worries since we started this arrangement. I’m not in the wrong to expect her to have done the same. Especially when it has to do with me. We were supposed to do this together.

Neither Jackson nor Tommy has a response, whichhurts infinitely more, because it confirms I’m right.

Willow chose to shut me out.

“I’ll leave these with you,” Nikki says. “You can review the list of topics we will and won’t allow The Foul Line reporter to ask about. It might also ease Bishop’s mind when you inform him of the plan.”

It absolutely won’t. Nothing she says could possibly dislodge the knife of betrayal in my back.

Are you mad she agreed to the interview for you or that she didn’t tell you?

Both.

If there’s anyone I expected to understand why I don’t want to talk to the press, it’s Willow. She’s seen me at my worst. How the hell could she agree to put me in front of a camera when I can barely talk with her about how I’m feeling?

“Thank you, Nikki. I really appreciate this.” The defeat in Willow’s voice is evident. She knows I heard every word.

“I’m here to help. Whatever you need.”

“Sounds good.”

As soon as I hear the door click, I slide from under the desk and storm toward Willow. “What the fuck was that?”

She has the good sense to take a step back, guilt plastered on her face. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” I growl, anger etched in my raised brow. “This is what you didn’t want to talk about? Instead, you gave me a blow job to distract yourself from the fact you threw me under the goddamn bus.” Turning away from her, I take up the pacing path I’d worn into the carpet before she arrived.I can’t look at her. If I do, I’ll lose it.

“I—you weren’t supposed to find out like this,” she stammers, her hand still very much caught in the proverbial cookie jar.

I roll my eyes, and I can’t hide the disgust that drips from every word. “No, you were going to get all your ducks in a row and present a case as to why I’m going to do this.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Willow drop her chin to her chest and wrap her arms across her chest, retreating into herself. “Actually, I was going to try and fix it before you ever found out.”

I stop mid pace and drag both hands though my hair, completely baffled. “I’m not sure which is worse. The fact that you would agree to it in the first place, or that you left me out of the loop completely.”

Her eyes snap up and lock with mine, tears falling freely.

I shouldn’t give a shit that she looks like she’s about to collapse with the weight of all this on her shoulders. I shouldn’t want to scoop her up and reassure her that we’ll fucking fix this—whatever it is.

But I do. I want to.

And then I want to punish her, so next time she’ll think twice before she shuts me out.

“What exactly did you agree to?” I ask, needing to make sense of this before I can decide if I’m walking out the door or taking her over my damn knee.

“The board of directors asked—demanded, really—that you and I are available for an interview during the Spring Training Gala.”

“And if we don”t?”

She squirms under my unrelenting gaze. “I don’t know for sure. They implied they’d find a way to get the children down here to bring the spotlight of the night back to the Renegades.”

“Jesus, fuck. So, it’s me or the kids.”

Her lower lip trembles as she nods and confirms she’d fucked me over to save the kids.

I run a hand through my hair and tug at the roots. It’s exactly what I would have done in the same situation.

“Essentially, yes.” Overwhelming defeat lingers in her voice and hits me right in the gut. She sounds so much like me when I’m lost, haunted by my demons.

Damn it.

Every part of me wants to be mad at her, but I’m not. At least not for making the deal. She might have had every intention of deceiving me, but it was never done with malice in her heart. That’s not who Willow is.

Willow protects people. She protects me.

I take a step back and lean against the lip of her desk. Opening my arms, I leave the choice up to her if she wants to take the same lifeline she’s offered me time after time.

Her eyes search mine for any hesitation, and when I nod in reassurance, she doesn’t think twice. In three short strides, she closes the gap and folds herself against me. I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her.

She fits perfectly in my arms.

This is where she belongs.

Fuck.

No.

I shut my eyes and resist the urge to nestle my nose in her hair and inhale her sweet scent.

Nothing more than a lifeline, I remind myself. She’s a means to an end. I won’t go there. Going there means risking losing her in the future, and I’m done losing people.

Tommy cackles. You are so fucked, my dude.

He might be right, but that’s a problem for future Bishop. Right now, I want to prove I can be there for Willow the way she is for me.

“Tell me what happened, Kitten,” I whisper.

Her anxiety is palpable, but she pulls back and puts on a brave face. “I was presenting my plans for the franchise to the board. They hated them, told me I was nothing but a pampered princess, and if I didn’t get in line, there would be consequences. Then they blindsided me with the interview.”

My jaw ticks and I nod. While I had major respect for Willow’s father, the board has always been a thorn in the side of this organization. More than once, I walked past Mr. York’s office and heard him yelling at one member or another about their outdated practices. But they generally gave him what he wanted, so I don’t think he rocked the boat.

Not Willow.

Willow was made to make waves. She doesn’t deserve to be put back in the box her mother kept her in for so much of her youth. She worked too hard to break free of that part of her life. I’m guilty of believing she fell back into that way of thinking. I’m not going to allow her to actually be put there.

We deserve to live.

I’m about to ask what her plans entailed when Skillet’s “The Resistance” blares as an alarm from my phone, signifying I’ve got to head back to the clubhouse to make the team bus.

Shit. It’s the worst possible time for me to have to leave. I didn’t even get the chance to distract her, let alone impart some wisdom like she always manages to do.

“You’ve got to go,” Willow surmises.

I brush a curl away from her face and nod.“I do, but I want to see your plans and Nikki’s talking points.”

She glances up, brows raised. “Really?”

I meet her eyes, memorizing the pools of blue. “Send them over and we’ll talk tonight when I drop off Phoebe and Lana.” I lean down and press a kiss to her cheek. “This conversation is far from over.”

“Okay,” she whispers, and maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I almost hear an ounce of her confidence returning.

Paired with the anger that still simmers under my skin, it will have to be enough to get me through the next few hours. Because when I see her again, we are absolutely going to have this out. And then I’m going to distract the fuck out of her.

Whatever you got to call it to sleep at night, buddy.

Fuck off, Jackson.