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Fuck yeah, I am.

Chapter Eight

Callie

When I get home from the studio, Bishop is on my porch. I stop in front of my car, my stomach clenching at the sight of him. At the reminder of him all over me last night.

God, he looks good.

"Hey, songbird," he rumbles, staring at me from beneath the brim of his hat. "You going to come say hello?"

"Thinking about it."

He crooks a finger, grinning.

I practically fly up the steps to him, not stopping until I'm in his arms, my tits crushed to his chest. He lifts me clean off my feet, spinning me in a circle with his mouth fused to mine.

I love the way he kisses me like he can't stop himself. That mouth is a deadly weapon, aimed directly at my heart.

Somehow, we knock his hat off.

He just chuckles, grabbing my ass in both hands.

"I thought you were doing cowboy stuff today," I say, a little breathlessly.

"Did that already. Even took a nap. Now, I'm interested in doing something else."

My stomach bottoms out, a wave of heat rushing through me.

He tips my head back, smirking. "Get your mind out of the gutter, songbird. I wasn't talking about fucking."

"Pity," I whisper.

His smirk only grows. "Maybe you'll get your wish. Later."

"Why not now?"

"Because you spent half the day practicing, and then you went to the gym. You need food."

"How did you…?" I trail off with a laugh. "Morgan H."

"Morgan H.," he confirms, his hand crawling up my shirt. "You still wearing that purple sports bra?"

"Maybe," I whisper. "Why don't you take me inside and see for yourself."

His eyes heat and darken before his hands tighten on me. He pauses at the door, shooting me a look. "Is this door locked, Callie?"

"Yes." I'm not afraid of Cody, but I don't want him showing up here again, either. Maybe I'm learning to think like Bishop and make my safety a priority. Maybe.

"Good girl."

I fish in my pocket for the keys before shoving them in the lock. Trying to get the door open while Bishop is kissing my neck is almost impossible, but I manage it. Barely.

We stumble through in a tangle of limbs before he shoves me up against the cool wood, already yanking my shirt off over my head.

"Fuck," he growls, stepping back to run his wild eyes over me. "I've been fantasizing about that sports bra since you wore it to the gym last weekend, songbird."

I don't even ask how he knows I wore it last weekend. I'm guessing Morgan H. filled him in. "Feel free to remove it." I grin at him. "Actually, feel free to remove all of my clothes. I won't complain."