The bulldog doesn’t agree with his declaration though because he barks again. This time baring his teeth.
I roll my eyes when Preston bares his right back.
Reaching down, I give Lola a scratch behind the ears. “Relax, baby.”
I turn back to Preston. “I’m gonna bring him downstairs.”
I’m about to stand, but Preston cups my face again. My heart somersaults when he brings our mouths together for a second time. Only unlike his last kiss, this one is soft and gentle.
Almost like he’s confessing and apologizing at the same time.
He leans his forehead against mine, his voice a rumble of smoke and ashes. “Thank you.”
Lola barks again, but I ignore him because the intense, haunting look in Preston’s eyes holds me captive.
I don’t understand how someone can be both transparent and a complete enigma at the same time, but that’s exactly what he is.
Despite his claims that I know him better than anyone…Preston’s still a mystery.
And that fucking terrifies me.
“For what?”
Too quickly, he averts his gaze, severing the conversation I was hoping we’d have before it can even start.
“What happened?” he questions suddenly, examining the cut on my finger that’s still bleeding.
“I was picking up the broken dishes and a piece nicked me.” I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”
His dark brows draw together as his expression transforms from concern to something ominous. “Stop cleaning up my messes, Kit.” He pins me with a dark, sinister glare. “You’ll only end up hurt.”
The punch from his proclamation—or rather, warning—hits me smack dab in the center of my chest.
I start to pull my hand away, but he brings my finger to his mouth.
Tiny hairs on my arms stand on end and prickles dance along my skin when he begins sucking the wound, his eyes never leaving mine.
The action is strange and a little disturbing. Intimate.
I should probably be grossed out, but I can’t seem to tear my gaze—or my finger—away.
“If you’re trying to scare me off, it won’t work,” I whisper, finding my voice.
Anger illuminates his face, and he drops my hand. “Trust me, Bishop, if I wanted to scare you off, I’d know exactly how to do it.”
“Is that so?” Determination fills me and I call him on his bluff. “Do your worst, Holden.”
With a smirk, he edges closer, pressing his thumb to my lower lip.
I almost want to laugh because his kisses don’t scare me anymore. They do the opposite, drawing me in like a moth to a flame.
I close my eyes, eagerly awaiting the feel of his lips…but it never comes.
Instead, he pushes me until my back meets the mattress. His lean, muscular frame hovers above me like a looming storm cloud as he settles between my thighs and his mouth finds my neck.
My heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s going to pound right out of my chest and into the palm of his hand. “Prest—”
The sharp sting of teeth scraping the hollow of my throat silences me. My mind spins, breaking off in a hundred different directions when he thrusts, and I feel how hard he is.
His deep voice is taunting. “Scared yet?”
Petrified.
But this time, it’s not just because of the obvious—having sex with a guy.
It’s the aftermath that terrifies me.
Because the last time we were this close, and I was this vulnerable…
He left.
I’m not so sure I can survive his rejection—or abandonment—a second time.
His head descends, stopping when his mouth is level with my breasts. “Say it.” Long fingers toy with the buttons on my shirt. “Or I’ll rip this fucking sweater off and suck on your little pink, puffy nipples.”
Jesus. A furious blush stains my cheeks. Not only because he’s recalling in vivid detail what my nipples look like, but he’s being so vulgar…so crude.
Even still, I refuse to give in.
“Last chance, Kit.” He bites one of my nipples through the fabric, and I jolt, causing my pelvis to brush against his erection. “Say it…or I’ll tear your panties off, spread your legs, and make you take every hard inch of my cock.”
He was right before. He knows exactly how to scare me away.
Which lines to cross.
The things I’m not ready for.
I open my mouth to tell him he made his point, but the sound of the doorbell ringing halts me.
Pressing my hand to his chest, I shove him away. “I have to get that.”
His tongue finds his cheek as he pushes off me. “Of course you do.”
I let his comment roll off my back as I make my way to the door.
“Bishop?”
His lips curl in a menacing sneer when I turn around. “That wasn’t my worst.” Those gray eyes darken. “Far from it.”
My stomach knots because deep down I know he’s right.
I pat my leg, gesturing for Lola to come with me. “Noted.”
Lola follows close behind as I jog down the staircase and open the front door. I’m expecting Breslin to be on the other side of it, but unfortunately, she’s not.
I fold my arms across my chest when I see my Nanna’s assistant standing there. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, Reggie?”
“Reginald,” he corrects, turning his nose up at Lola in disgust. “I apologize for the late hour, but I’m here on official business.”
“Official business?” Instantly, nerves spiral in my belly and I clamp a hand over my mouth. “Oh, God. Is she…did my Nanna pass?”
I know the doctors said she didn’t have much time, but I didn’t think it would happen so fast.
“No,” he says quickly. “She is, however, requesting your attendance tomorrow for brunch.” His lips flatten and he makes no move to hide his displeasure. “You and your husband.”
It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes because as always, they’re both so histrionic. “You could have just called, you know.”
“I did,” he says snidely as he smooths his tie. “You didn’t pick up.”
Vaguely, I remember hitting the ignore button on my cell twice as I was making the lasagna.
“Fine. Brunch tomorrow…got it. Is that all?”
He shakes his head. “No. She also wants to ensure you made an appointment with your gynecologist—”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Breslin snaps as she walks up the path to the front door. “Tell that homophobic old bag to fuck the hell off and worry about her own vagina.”
At that, Reggie’s eyes widen. “Excuse you.”
“Excuse you.” Breslin yells a little too loudly. “Kit’s vag is none of her fucking business.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Same goes for the neighbors.” Fearing Preston might overhear and question why my Nanna is requesting that I see a gyno, I shoo Reggie back and close the front door behind me. “You can go now.”
Reggie clears his throat. “Very well. I’ll see you at twelve tomorrow.”
“Don’t come back, asshole,” Breslin shouts as he struts to his car.
After he’s gone, her focus is back on me. “What the hell is going on?”