Chapter Thirty Seven: Willow

The silence of my room overwhelmed me, and I retreated to the balcony. Leaning over the railing, I stare out at the infinite darkness of the sea. The sound of the waves the calming constant I need right now.

A soft knock filters out from the bedroom, but it’s not enough to make me turn from my view. It’s probably Indie or Leigh wanting to check on me. They’re worried and only want to help, but all I want is to let my tears fall without being the rock for everyone else.

Because if I was out there, or at the stadium, or at the hotel with the team, that’s what I would do. It’s what I’ve done every single day since the crash—no—since before then. It’s all I’ve ever done—try to keep it together because other people need me to. My dad, after my mother died. The kids at Renegade Hearts. Leigh. Indie. The team.

Bishop.

I’m so fucking tired, and for the first time in a long time, I can’t just pretend it’s going to be okay.

It’s not.

The evidence is damning.

No.

Not just damning. It’s a sledgehammer to everything my dad built—everything I’ve worked to build in the last six months.

There’s nothing that unites people more than a scandal. And this is one that will no doubt be etched in Major League history.

Thiswill be my father’s legacy.

My thoughts race as my panic ebbs and flows like the waves, and I’m not sure how it’s possible I still have any tears, but alas, they continue to fall.

“Willow?” His voice is soft yet commanding, and I can’t stop the heat that fills my cheek or the way my thighs clench.

Then I remember my father’s actions have torn apart the memory of his team. They will forever be the Renegades who didn’t deserve their place at the top of the leaderboard. He has every right to be upset with me and the organization.

I freeze in place, cold washing over me despite the balmy Florida night, bracing for whatever version of Bishop I’m about to encounter.

“You’re here,” I whisper in disbelief as he joins me on the balcony.

“I am.” He slides up next to me but instead of facing the ocean, he leans his back against the rail, the sleeve of his hoodie brushing up against my bare skin.

“Are you okay?” I ask, looking up to search his face for any hint of despair and finding nothing but a comforting calm.

His chest rumbles with a half-hearted laugh. “After the day you’ve had, are you seriously worrying about me?”

Of course, I am. That’s what I do.

I frown. “Shouldn’t you be with the team?”

“I came to find our leader,” he says, his lips lifting in a soft smile.

A sardonic laugh falls from my lips, and I focus back on the vast ocean, unable to stand the weight of his stare. “You came to the wrong place then.”

I silently plead for him to relent. To leave me be. But he doesn’t let me hide.

Bishop reaches out, his hand gently wrapping around my biceps, and he tugs me between his legs and against his chest, almost like he knows that’s where I need to be. He buries his nose in the slicked back hair just above my ear and whispers, “I came to find you. Talk to me, Willow.”

Willow. Not Kitten.

I wish I knew what that meant. I don’t know what we are anymore. We’re a stark contrast from the last time the two of us shared this space almost a year ago. He was buried deep inside me while party goers mingled below. I suppose we have an affinity for balconies. And hotel rooms. Maybe it’s not the location at all, but the invisible string that’s managed to wrap itself around us and force us together at every turn.

Still, that doesn’t answer the question of what we are to each other. And right now, I need to know. I need something to hold on to. Not that I’m about to ask him. Mostly because I’m not sure my heart can take any more of a beating if it doesn’t match the Bishop-shaped hole in my chest.

When I don’t answer, he continues, peppering soft kisses to the shell of my ear as he does. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay. We both know you’re not.”

A visceral sob wracks my body and I melt into him, my tears staining his hoodie. “I’m not.”

His arms tighten around me. “What do you need?”

Every muscle in my body tenses. It’s such a simple question, but it throws me off passing from the lips of the man currently holding me. This version of him is selfish, and rightly so. He’s got walls up to keep his heart safe. But this question is so altruistic and so unique to the Bishop I met on another balcony what feels like a lifetime ago.

It’s a tease.

His grip on me loosens, allowing me to pull back enough to look up at him. My gaze catches on his lips for a fraction of a second, and I consider kissing him to avoid answering. The thought floats away, though, as I remember I promised not to hide things from him.

“I need—” I hesitate even though my mind screams exactly what I want. Him. All of him. It’s not fair to ask for. Not when he wants to distract me, and I want to keep him.

Bishop’s eyes drop to my mouth, his Adam”s apple bobbing as he sucks in a breath. “Tell me.”

“You.” I breathe, my eyes connecting with his. “I need you.”

He brings his thumb across my lip and rasps, “Not a distraction.”

Bishop reads me like a damn book.

It’s not a question, but a statement. He sees I’m not completely whole, and while I might want a distraction, that’s not what I need.

My hands shake as I fist his hoodie and he dips his head, urging me to allow him to be the tangible thing I’m desperate to hold on to.

“Say it,” he whispers.

“I need you, not a distraction.”

His eyes are windows to his soul as he utters the words I’ve been longing to hear. “You have me. All of me.”

A choked breath escapes me, but he’s there, inhaling my relief. His soft lips, paired with a hint of stubble, are the perfect amount of pleasure and pain as he seals his promise with a kiss.

“Fuck,” he moans against me.

His hands drop to my hips, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing. I lock my legs around his waist, the evidence of how much he wants this positioned at my core.

He carries me inside, kissing me like I’m the oxygen he needs to survive, until we’re at the foot of my bed. He slides me down his body until my feet hit the floor. I’ve never wanted to be off solid ground more than right now.

My hands trace the planes of his chest and I glance up, losing myself in the depths of his vulnerable stare. His broad frame towers over me as he fingers the hem of my silk sleep tank and pulls it over my head.

“Fuck, Kitten.” Bishop growls, his eyes falling on where my nipples are tightened into peaks. “You’re perfect. So goddamned perfect.”

His head drops to the crook of my neck, teeth grazing my goose pimpled flesh as he kisses his way down my collar bone. He takes one nipple into his mouth while he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger.

The dual sensation sends a bolt straight to my clit. I tip my head back and a throaty moan fills the space between us.

“Those sounds,” he rasps, swirling his tongue and nipping the sensitive peak with his teeth before switching to take the other nipple in his mouth, giving it the same attention. “I live for those fucking sounds. They are the fuel for every one-handed fantasy I’ve had for the last year.”

“They are?”

Bishop falls to his knees, his hands slipping beneath the silk of my shorts and kneading my ass. “Fuck yes, second only to the sound of you screaming my name as you come on my cock and directly before the taste of you.”

A smirk curls the corner of my mouth. “You really know how to turn a girl on.”

“My girl. Only mine. No one else matters.”

His.

I suck in a breath, and he tips his head back, his gaze colliding with mine. “I’ve been so fucking stupid, Willow. You’ve been it for me for longer than I care to admit. You’ve taken care of my heart all this time, and I was reckless with yours. That ends now. I need you to hear me when I say this. I am on my knees for you. Only you.” His breath hitches, and he bites his lower lip to stop it from quivering. “Willow, I love you. God, I love you so much it feels like it might kill me and that terrifies me. The thought of losing you?—”

I silence his words with my mouth. Sliding down to the floor, I hold his face between my hands and kiss him with everything I have. I’m ravenous despite the tears rolling down my face. He meets me with the same passion and determination, his hands roving over my half naked body. Firm yet gentle, he gives me the support I need while silently promising to protect what’s his.

“I love you too,” I say against his mouth. “I love you. You aren’t going to lose me.”

Our beating chests rise and fall in sync, echoing the sentiment that we are finally on the same page. Together.

“Never again.”

Bishop moves slowly, lifting me up so I’m once again standing before him. He slips his fingers in the waistband of my shorts and slides them down, taking my panties with them. Leaning forward, he presses his nose to the apex of my thighs and inhales. With anyone else, it would be mortifying, but I widen my stance, giving him full access.

“Hmmmm,” he hums. “Are you wet for me, Kitten?”

I rasp, “Always.”

“Damn straight. Lay back on the bed for me, knees apart, and let me see what’s mine.”

I follow his instructions, loving the way his eyes never stop devouring me as I do.

He stands and lifts his team shirt over his head. His abdomen ripples, giving me a show—raw, intense, and perfectly sculpted. Just like the heart of the man beneath.

My fingers dig into my palm just to prove to myself this is really happening.

I watch as his deft fingers find the button of his jeans and, in one flick, he pops each of them open before pushing his pants to the floor.

My eyes trace the tent of his boxer briefs, and I lick my lips, following the tight fabric down to the ink on his left leg. Every time I get the privilege of seeing his tattoos, I’m left breathless. They’re his life in art. The carefully chosen mementos that remind him of his family. The tributes to the moments that changed him. They’re a reminder of how deeply Bishop feels when he lets himself—how beautiful his soul is.

His fingers dig into the waistband of his briefs, and he pushes the fabric down, his cock bouncing free against his abdomen. Usually, the barbells of his Jacob’s ladder are what capture my undivided attention, but this time, my eyes are drawn to two fresh tattoos on his upper thigh.

My mouth drops open, and I’m stunned into silence. The skin is raw and the colors vibrant.

On the outside of his thigh there’s a gargoyle, much like the one he got to commemorate his induction to the Renegades. Only this one has two bats crossed behind it and has a tiny circle of stars surrounding it. And I knew—without needing to count—there are sixty-eight. One for every soul lost in the crash.

But that’s not the tattoo that renders me speechless.

It’s the tiny portrait of a cream-colored kitten with bright green eyes, surrounded by purple morning glory flowers on the inside of his thigh.

“When did you add that?” I murmur, my heart battering against my rib cage.

“When I was in New York. I paid my artist double to make room for me.”

“But when you left, you alluded you weren’t all in.” I work through the timeline in my head and come to a conclusion. “Jackson?”

Bishop nods. “He reminded me life’s too short.”

I chuckle because it’s exactly what Lana told me too. “Like mother, like son.”

He smiles and runs a hand through his hair, resting it on the back of his neck. The pose makes him look like a damn Greek statue—chiseled to perfection.

“I realized that no matter what happened between us, you played a part in my story and I needed to have you with me forever.”

“I’m honored,” I say, my voice breathless. “It’s beautiful. Both of them. But I don’t have green eyes.”

“No.” He laughs, a sly smile lifting at the corner of his lips. “That’s a reminder of our first night together.”

Realization dawns on me, and my chest shakes with laughter. “The jewel on the butt plug.”

“You trusted me to take care of you, this”—he gestures to the tattoo—“was my way of hoping you might trust me again.”

“Yes,” I blurt out too quickly, making his smile grow. “Anything. I’m yours.”

“Fuck, I love hearing you say that.”

“I’m yours,” I repeat, pouring every ounce of my love into the words.

Bishop’s eyes darken, and he eyes the box of toys on the bed exactly where I left it before the game today. He steps forward, sliding between my legs. “Then let me take care of you.”

I’ll let him do so forever if he asks.