Chapter Three

Allegra

Fuck.

I forgot how attractive Bishop is. And when he flashes those damn dimples, he is downright gorgeous. Dark blonde hair, green eyes, average height but muscular. He has a strong jaw with high cheekbones covered by a slight bit of scruff. The jeans he wears like a second damn skin have my gaze traveling to his thighs every now and then no matter how much I tell myself I won’t ogle him.

This conversation escalated quickly.

“Do you always talk to women like this?”

“Only when I don’t think I’ll get slapped.”

I shake my head with a chuckle. I haven’t laughed this much all year. There isn’t much about my life or job that invites laughter. But there is something about Bishop that is different. I find his honesty refreshing. And if I am being truthful, I’ve been thinking about him. In the early hours of the morning, when I’m horny, alone in bed. I only met the man once, but he was instantly added to my spank bank.

“What makes you think I won’t slap you?” I ask.

“You haven’t yet.”

I nod. It’s a shitty way of thinking, but he isn’t wrong. Although, if he was any other man I probably would have slapped him long ago.

“I’m here because I hate Christmas,” I say, changing the subject. “I needed a drink, and all my regular spots were closed. I have no family and nowhere to go. And I’m tired of being dragged into the Cammareri family gatherings out of pity.”

“My parents are both dead,” he says with a nod. “Everyone in the Gypsy Bastards always tries to make me feel like part of their families and I hate it. I’m a loner. Why can’t people just leave me be?”

“What are we doing?” I ask.

“Getting to know one another.”

“And then?”

“We’ll get to that later.”

“So, I can say whatever I want and there won’t be any repercussions? When we’re done, we simply walk away from each other like tonight never happened?” I ask.

“Yes. For tonight, it’s just you and me. Two strangers passing the time together.”

“But we’re not really strangers,” I muse.

“But we are,” he says, sitting back in the booth, his arm resting on the back. “I don’t know how old you are or where you’re from. I don’t even know your last name. And you know even less about me.”

“Maybe I prefer it that way,” I reply, mimicking his casually relaxed pose. “Tell me something about you. Something that you wouldn’t use as a line to get laid.”

He studies me, looking for something before he leans forward, beckoning me with a crook of his finger. “I watched my father die,” he says in a low whisper. “I handed him over to a rival club and watched a man slit his throat. And I didn’t feel a damn thing.”

“I was rescued from a sex trafficking ring,” I counter. “But I’m one of the lucky ones. No one ever touched me.”

“Damn,” Bishop replies. “I was most certainly not expecting that.”

“There are a lot of things about me that people don’t expect.”

He nods, drinking from his glass.

Over the loudspeaker, a man announces the next dancer just before a bass heavy song starts. I turn my attention to the stage and watch a blonde woman with obviously fake breasts saunter to the pole in a red leather outfit.

I watch her dance and take off her clothing item by item. She’s good, but the red head was better. I can feel Bishop’s stare as he watches me instead of the show. I see the woman look at him with a frown. She was clearly expecting him to watch. She glares at me, and I smile brightly before sending her a wink.

“Are you into women?” Bishop asks, drawing my attention to him.

“Not that I know of,” I reply with a smirk.

“What was the wink?”

“She’s pissed because you’re staring at me instead of her,” I explain. “I’m just pushing her buttons.”

He laughs freely and the sound makes my stomach flutter.

“Do you want to get out of here?” I ask. This entire situation is way out of my comfort zone, but I am throwing caution to the wind. I’ve wanted Bishop since the first moment I laid eyes on him and this seems like my chance.

Bishop grabs his glass and slams down his drink before standing, his hand outstretched to me. I finish my drink before placing my palm against his and allowing him to lead me out of the strip club. He leads me directly to my car, a fact I don’t question.

He pushes me against the side of the little sportscar, his hand resting against the column of my neck. He holds me in place, but I instinctively know he will let me go if I push back. It doesn’t make any sense, but I know I have nothing to fear around him.

“If we do this, it’s one night only,” he says, holding my gaze, making sure I know how serious he is. “No strings attached, no awkward calls afterward.”

I tilt my chin up. “I’m not going to fall in love, Bishop. It’s just sex.”

His lips descend on mine, kissing me senseless. He lifts my leg, hooking it over his hip and grinding his erection into the apex of my sex. A mewling sound falls from my lips. The hem of my little red dress has ridden up, bunching above my panties.

A cold breeze blows over us and an involuntary shiver works its way through me.

Bishop lowers my leg and fixes my dress. “I’ll follow you.” His long legs stride away from me until he is standing beside a chrome and white motorcycle.

My legs haven’t moved yet, my lips and pussy still tingling from what he just did to me.

From across the lot, he smirks and I want to slap him.

Instead, I unlock my car and start the engine. I drive to the only hotel in downtown Gypsy Falls. If I am going to do this, I don’t want him in my personal space. I don’t want to have the memory of him lingering there once he walks away.