Blow Me Away (Seven Tribesmen Motorcycle Club Book 3) (11 page)

“What are you saying?” he asked, his voice mimicking Stella's soft tones.  Something hot and tingly pounded through his chest and his thoughts.  He was almost afraid to touch the emotion, lest he misconstrued Stella's words. 

Stella's face burned with a blush, and she couldn't bring herself to look up at Bisho
p—
the man who she had met a little over a month ago, the man who saved her from a psychotic partner and from would-be abductors, and the man she had risked her career, her life, and her sanity for.  Her fingers curled tightly into his hospital gown.  At last, she risked looking up, catching Bishop's visible eye.

“She's trying to say she loves you, asshole.”  Coyote interjected from the other side of the room.  Both Bishop and Stella snapped vicious glares to the green-eyed man.  Coyote ignored them, his attention glued to the tablet in front of him.  He swiped his finger across the screen, as if he hadn't just interrupted the moment.  Vaguely, Stella wondered if Coyote was talking to them or his book.  Without looking up, Coyote added, a little softer than before, “Now, would be a great time to tell her how you feel, boss.”

“Coyote!” hissed Bishop, his brows lowering angrily.

Stella took a big, deep breath.  Her heart shuddered under the adrenaline.  Somehow, she managed to squeak out, “How do you feel, Arthur?”

Bishop snapped his attention to Stella.  Her flushed cheeks and wide eyes played havoc with his heart.  His arms tightened, just slightly, around her.  A lump crawled into his throat as heat played across his own cheeks.  In his head, memories flashed by his inner sight: their first meeting, their encounter in the shack, the first night they spent together, the following weekend, the near-death experiences.  The prickling heat swelled in him, and he knew what it was. 

A blush bit at his cheeks as sudden self-consciousness split through his thoughts.  He focused on Stella's warm brown eyes, recognizing the emotion simmering in her eyes.  Something inside him solidified and he pulled her closer. His lips hovered near hers, as he said, “I love you, Stella Holmes, and I would scare you all over if it meant keeping you safe.”

Stella's eyes widened, her flush deepening, as realization slapped across her synapses.  Perhaps Bishop wasn't entirely as hardheaded as she thought.  Maybe, just maybe, his attempts to push her away from the situation was his way of protecting her.  The thought flooded hope through her whole body.  Her disarrayed thoughts and concerns suddenly felt very organized and concise.

She couldn't help herself.  She threw herself against him, her lips catching his.  His arms crushed her against his chest, heat and prickles exploding between them.  Her arms gently slid over his shoulders, her fingers digging into his hair at the back of his head. 

Gently, he groaned into the kiss.  Heat skipped across his groin, as her soft body excited every bit of him, both physical and metaphorical.  Stella returned the groan with a contented mewl.   Bishop stroked Stella's back, her body twitching and arching against his fingers.  She continued to thread her fingers through his hair, sending delightful sensations across his scalp.

From across the room, Coyote groaned, “Ugh, get a room, you two.”

Bishop broke the kiss, a grin curled at his lips.  He didn't break his eye contact with Stella as he addressed his vice president, “We have a privacy curtain, Coyote.  Don't tempt me into using it.”

Stella snorted, covering her amusement.  She shook her head as Bishop's lips twitched with a broader smile.  She leaned closer, whispering against Bishop's mouth, “I love you, Arthur.”

The two shared a brief smile, and the world around them melted away as they resumed their long, slow kiss.  They had all the time in the world now.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Evelyn Glass is a native of northern California who currently lives in New England with her wonderful husband and their two rambunctious Corgis. 

Her favorite past times include hiking and reading near the fireplace.

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