Chapter 22

twenty-two

. . .

River

I was mid-lipstick swipe when a knock sounded on my door. Thank God I checked my startle reflex in time, or I would have had a red streak across my cheek. No one wants to go to a gala filled with the richest of the rich looking like The Joker. Except maybe The Joker.

Brow furrowed, I tried to guess who it could be. Cross and I hadn't spoken since our showdown in the secret passage. I never got around to asking Bishop to be my date; I just couldn't reconcile myself to being the reason he was in an uncomfortable situation. Which only left one person...

"Leave me alone, Walker."

"It's me, siren." Bishop's voice was a low, rumbled rasp, and my thighs clenched in response.

I closed the tube of lipstick and strode to the door, pulling it open to reveal the man standing there, a navy blue three-piece suit hugging his big frame. He would fit right in with the wealthy cattlemen. Shiny cognac-colored boots and a cream Stetson pulled the look together.

I let out a low whistle. "Somebody cleans up nice."

He was too busy taking in my dress to acknowledge the compliment. I'd lucked out when I'd found the black floor-length number with a halter neck and thigh-high slit. It was sexy, understated, and stupidly expensive. In a word, it was perfect.

"I think that somebody is you." His stare burned into mine.

"Oh, this old thing?" I twirled, the skirt of my gown flaring out in a wave of silk.

"You ready to go?"

"Are you . . . driving us or something?"

He glanced down at the floor, then back up. "I might've overheard Walker complaining about you being too stubborn to let anyone escort you tonight. Thought I'd take a chance and see if you'd allow me on your arm."

It might have been the most words he'd said to me in a single go. He wasn't the chattiest man, but whew, was he potent.

"I wanted to ask you, but I didn't want you to feel pressured."

I hadn't intended to admit that, but knowing what tonight might cost him, I felt he'd earned a bit of my vulnerability.

His answering smile, that soft, slow curl of his lips, had a bolt of heat flaring to life in my belly.

"I think I can handle it."

"You sure? That means touching."

He leaned in and whispered, "I just need to be the one in charge tonight, sweetheart."

I swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. "I don't have a problem with that."

He offered me his arm. "Then let's get this show on the road."

Slipping my fingers through the crook of his elbow, I was very aware of the slight tension that coiled at my touch. My eyes snapped up to his face, where I found the same to be true. His jaw tightened and his nostrils flared, and I felt how hard he was trying to move past the discomfort.

"We don't have to do this, Sterling. I can go on my own."

"The hell you will. If I can't do something as simple as dance with you, how can I keep you safe?"

"Safe from what?"

Steel gray eyes locked on mine. "Everything."

It felt like the air had been knocked from my lungs. I hadn't spent a whole lot of time with Bishop since the night he'd discovered the truth hidden in those manila envelopes. I'd forgotten how his presence made me feel like I'd stuck my finger in a light socket. The man was dangerous in the best possible sense of the word.

"Okay, if you're sure. But I'm gonna warn you, I like to dance."

"I used to. Before." I hated the shadow in his expression. I wanted to figure him out and help him heal.

"I haven't had a reason to let someone lead in a long time," I admitted. "Not since I left home. It seems like since then, the world's been out to get me, and there hasn't been time for something as silly as dancing."

A muscle feathered in his jaw before his entire body relaxed, and he gifted me with a rare smile. "How about tonight we just pretend there's nothing else in our way. It's you and me, and that's all that matters."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and said, "Deal. Now take me out, cowboy. I bought this dress, and I want you to show me off."

He chuckled and led me out of the lodge to where the limo was waiting for us. Cross and Walker were already standing outside, impatience and something I couldn't quite put my finger on stamped on their handsome faces. They looked just as delicious as Bishop did in their black suits and matching hats. That's where the similarities ended, though. Cross opted for classic elegance while Walker chose opulence. He had velvet lapels to go with the subtle design in his jacket and silver tips on his boots. It was like looking at a panther and a peacock.

"Walker. Danny." I said, pointedly staring at each of them in turn.

Cross fumed as he opened the door for me. Even though his growl of displeasure made it clear he was annoyed, his southern manners wouldn't allow him to let me get the door myself. The thought of him having to watch me all night with Bishop bolstered my spirits. He should see exactly what kind of man I deserved. One who wanted to take care of me. Not one who broke me.

Or used me.

The reminder of their betrayal was enough to cool any appreciation I might have had for their appearance. Just because they were pretty to look at didn't make them good men. Or even tolerable ones, for that matter. After all, predators were always the most beautiful creatures. That was what made them so dangerous.

I decided then and there to do my best to ignore them for the rest of the evening. It was just Bishop and me tonight. As agreed. And that was just fine by me.

We were surrounded by a sea of silk, sequins, and cowboy hats. Oh, and don't forget the hairspray. I was thankful the doors to the gardens were open, or it would have been impossible to breathe without choking on it.

True to his word, Bishop had kept me close and danced with me for most of the evening. It had been damn near perfect, to be honest. Minus the awkward run-in with dear old Cecilia. The look on her face when I'd walked in with the Cross brothers had been priceless. But when she'd realized I was there with Bishop, she'd practically started rubbing herself against Cross like a bitch in heat. Not gonna lie; I enjoyed watching him sweat, especially when she led him over to the silent auction table and pointed out what could only be his entry.

"What are you grinning about?" Bishop whispered in my ear as he handed me a glass of champagne.

"Oh, nothing. Cross Industries is just very charitable this year, and I believe Junior just realized how generous we've been."

When Cross's gaze lasered in on me, I stiffened on instinct. He was pissed with a capital P.

Bishop's warm palm pressed against the small of my back, lips close to my ear as he said, "Let's take a walk. You need some air."

"I do?" I asked with a laugh, recognizing that this was just another way Bishop was protecting me.

"I'm told the flowers are mighty pretty. Let's go pick some."

I snorted at the ridiculous and utterly un-Bishop answer. I couldn't picture him holding a single flower, let alone a bouquet. Lies. I could. It was fucking hilarious.

"I don't think we're allowed to pick these. Pretty sure it's in the bylaws or something, but a walk sounds nice. The stars are out, and it's quiet."

"Exactly my point. C'mon, I want to get you alone for a minute. I'm tired of sharing you with every pair of eyes in this ballroom."

People had been looking our way, sure, but it wasn't me they were interested in. I'd caught several women eyeing my date like he was about to be their next meal. If they weren't careful, my claws would come out. Then there was Walker, smiling, flirting, and dancing with every pretty girl he could find, but never taking his attention off me for more than a few minutes at a time. He watched me like he could sense me slipping away.

I felt Cross's stare boring into my back the whole way out the side exit, but I forced myself not to give in and turn my head.

Bishop steered us to the left, his hand never leaving my back as he guided me to the far corner of the patio, well out of the way of the ballroom and its guests.

The air was crisp with the spicy bite of lavender roses from the well-maintained garden nearby. Combined with the canopy of twinkling stars and the music still flooding out the open doors, it felt like a scene from some kind of historical romance. If only I had a dashing gentleman who wanted to ruin me.

Oh, wait.

As if on cue, Bishop carefully tucked a stray curl behind my ear and then pressed his lips to the sensitive skin along the side of my neck. I shivered, my fingers twitching with the need to touch him. But I fisted my hands instead, not wanting to accidentally destroy the fragile bonds between us. He must have noticed my inner turmoil, because his rough whisper sounded in my ear.

"Behind your back, baby. No touching. That's my job."

Oh God. His deep voice slipped over me, like velvet and whiskey with just a hint of gravel. My pussy throbbed in response. I hadn't had what I'd consider very many adventurous partners. There'd been one guy who'd wanted to play with handcuffs, but he came about a minute after putting them on me, so I figured that didn't really count.

Something told me Bishop wasn't playing, though. The ease with which he maneuvered my body and growled his commands told me he knew exactly what he was doing.

I did as I was told, my eyes fluttering closed as his stubble scraped along my sensitive skin. "I shouldn't touch you, siren. It's against the rules."

"Fuck the rules."

Low laughter vibrated across my neck, and goosebumps followed in its wake. "I wondered if you were a good girl or a bad one. I'll let you in on a secret."

"What?"

"I like them bad. It's much more fun that way."

His fingers slid along the exposed flesh of my thigh, running up, up, up the slit of this dress until he found my lace-covered cunt.

"Feels like you agree," he murmured before lifting his head and covering my mouth with his.

Kissing Bishop was a whole lot like drowning. My heart raced, my breath caught, and my mind went blissfully empty. Time froze, cocooning us both for one perfect moment, as his mouth moved against mine, claiming me in the most perfect way. Need coiled inside me, and I writhed against my hands, pressing them against the brick so I wouldn't accidentally break his rules. I had a feeling that wasn't the kind of bad girl he liked, and if I were to disobey him, I'd lose him just as fast.

"Spread your legs for me, siren," he rasped against my lips. "I need to feel how slick you are because of me."

My only response was a whimper as I did as he asked. It felt like I was seconds away from coming, and he hadn't even touched me yet.

"Bishop," I finally managed.

"No, baby. You call me Sterling. You're the only one who gets that name, and I want you to fucking use it." He slid his fingers past my panties and sank two inside me in a slow glide. "Especially when I'm inside you."

"Fuck, Sterling."

"Say it again," he ordered, curling those fingers and lighting me up.

"Sterling. God, it feels so good."

He let out a little rumble as he repeated the motion. I rocked against him, seeking more, and he chuckled. "You better be careful, siren. You're already dripping down my hand. You should probably move your skirt to the side unless you want to ruin the silk and have everyone inside know exactly what we were up to out here. Because I'm making you come all over my fingers no matter what."

Who was this man, and what had he done with my strong, silent giant?

"Personally, I don't care who knows. I'd eat you out in the middle of the goddamn dance floor so long as you screamed my name when you came."

Again, who the fuck was this? I really liked this side of him.

"Jesus. Your mouth."

"What about it?"

"It's dirty."

"Not yet. We'll save that for when I can get you on your back with your legs spread wide for me." He brushed his thumb over my clit faster and faster until I was shaking with the need to come. "Hurry up, siren. Someone's coming. I'd much rather get you off before I get caught with my hand in the cookie jar."

I thought I heard footsteps, and panic clawed at me, but Bishop held me in place and worked me harder.

"Eyes on me. I want to watch you fall apart."

I tried, I really did, but the heat burning in his gaze was too much. That, along with the threat of being discovered, had me teetering on the brink.

"Kiss me. I'm going to scream." I was so close. So fucking close. "Please."

He did, his tongue spearing my lips and sending me over the edge into pleasure. I whimpered against him, but he swallowed most of my moans as I clamped down, milking his fingers like they were his cock.

"Fuck, that was beautiful," he said against my lips before he pulled his fingers free of me.

Then he pushed them into my mouth, making me suck them clean of my own orgasm. No one had ever done that before, made me taste myself, and a fresh wave of desire rose within me.

His lips chased his fingers, tasting me as our tongues tangled together.

"So fucking good. Next time you can clean it off my lips."

God.

Wanting to do to him what he'd done to me, I rasped, "Or your cock?"

His lips curled in that dangerous smirk. "Careful what you wish for, siren. Cause I'll fucking give it to you."