Bishop hands his horseshoes to his brother and marches in my direction, keeping his heavy focus on me. And when we meet in the middle, he slowly shakes his head at me.
“Why do we have to invite people over when we both know you’re going to dress up, and I have a hard time containing myself not to rip it off. It’s torture.”
“I must be hanging around Marty too much,” I surmise with a smile. “You know that everyone is aware that we’re together. You can touch me.”
“Not in the way I want to,” he gripes, almost pouts.
“Do you have a bedtime?” I tease, stepping closer to him and smelling his sexy as fuck cologne of nutmeg and weed. “Because there’s always later.”
“I just need five minutes.”
I chuckle. “I doubt—“
“Hey, Mills,” Bishop calls out, still locking eyes with me. “You need some cheese for the burgers?”
“No, I got—“
“I’ll get you some.” Bishop seizes my hand and laces his fingers with mine, tugging me along with him towards the sliding door leading into the kitchen.
Once inside, I’m prey.
I’m in Bishop’s clutches, ass on the kitchen counter—apparently this is our spot—and his back to anyone who could be coming up this way.
“Be the lookout, baby,” he mutters, messing with his jeans before his lips slam into mine.
How does this man expect me to focus let alone watch out for anybody who might slide this door open?
“Bishop, unless you want your ass to be the main event, you better move us.”
He growls. “My luck it’d be Marty.” Lifting me again, we end up in his room, the door not so subtly slammed behind him while he stalks us both to his bed.
My dress is lifted, his lips are on my inner thighs, and I’m squirming under his touch before I can release a full exhale.
“If you keep this up,” I breathe. “You’re gonna get tired of me.” He bites the inside of my thigh, and I squeal.
“Don’t talk shit you can’t back up, Emmy Lou.”
“Says the man who said five minutes.” Bishop’s entire weight is on me next like a damn panther and I settle underneath him.
“If you wanted me so bad, you could’ve just said that.” I push my forehead into his and relish this moment of us—in love and together. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Nothing,” I whisper. “Just letting this all soak in.”
“Waiting for the other ball to drop?” I shake my head. “You know I love you, right?” I bob my head up and down. “Hard to believe?”
“I wanted this for so long…it feels unreal sometimes.”
“Makes sense.”
“You know…Mills is outside.”
He tsks and nestles his face into my neck. “I know.”
“Do you know what that means?”
He presses a kiss to my jawline. “That I need to go lock my sister up?”
I swat at his shoulder as he meshes soft kisses with his lips, but the stubble on his chin abrades after it. “Bish, stop, leave them alone. He won’t hurt her, bro code and all that silly shit.”
“Who the fuck told you about bro code?” He pulls his face from me and peers down like it’s the most serious thing in the world, then cracks a smirk. “He does it to annoy me.”
“Gee, because it’s so hard.”
“Can we fuck now?” He rolls his blue eyes. “I’d love not to talk about him.”
I try not to crack a smile. “How about something better?”
“That exists? Because this right here is—”
“Let’s get married.” I meet his solemn stare as if I didn’t just say something so important.
“Can’t.”
My brows knit. “Why not?”
“I don’t have your ring from the jeweler’s and—“
“Fuck a ring, I want your heart…and last name.”
“Yeah, but the adoption papers and—“ My palm falls to his cheek, and I brush my thumb over the coarse hair of his face.
“Okay…” I reply gently. “We’ll do it your way.”
“I just want it to be perfect this time. We did Vegas and—“
“And I loved it.”
He stares at me for a beat before asking, “You really wanna get married now?”
I give a noncommittal shrug. “Only if you wanna fuck Mrs. Bishop tonight, but if not—“ Bishop is off the bed and hauling me into his chest so quick my brain spins.
“Let’s go. Ky can watch the kids.” He begins for the door, but I stay grounded to my spot.
“We’ll do it here.”
“We can’t.” He jerks his head to the door. “No priest or whatever those other guys are called.”
“Mills is ordained. He did Stormi and Marty’s wedding.”
He violently shakes his head. “Hell no.”
I smirk and rise on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Oh, hell yes.”
A YEAR LATER…
“How many of those yellow flags do they throw out when the players are in trouble?” Emmy sinks herself further against my body, asking me the tenth or more question of the night on football.
It wouldn’t be so bad, but she keeps letting it sink in deeper that my team is fucking up royally tonight with their bullshit penalties and inability to keep their defensive line intact.
“As many as they want,” I ground out, watching the ref point to my side of the field, calling yet another penalty and first down.
Emmy’s hand falls to my upper thigh, relieving some of the tension from the game and sending it right to my cock.
I’m not sure if the woman realizes how much her touch fucking cranks up the animal in me. I’m only able to release it in random places when the kids aren’t around to sink my dick so deep in her I’m seeing stripes of color and shit in my vision.
“Can I tell you something?” she asks, peering up at me with those warm browns, and I’m already aware of what she’s getting at.
“No.”
“But you didn’t even know—“
I trail my gaze off the TV and to her. “Don’t I? I want the baby to be a surprise.”
Yep.
Your boy got Emmy Lou Bishop pregnant, and she’s been bugging me ever since with wanting to tell me the sex of our child.
The moment we hovered over that positive pregnancy test, I fucked her twice in
