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My chest tightens. I hadn't realized how badly I needed to hear that.

“Me too,” I admit.

His mouth curves. “Good.”

And just like that, some of the nervousness disappears. I settle against him again, resting my cheek on his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear. I listen to it for a while, tracing the edge of a seam in his T-shirt.

This is dangerous.

Not because we're doing anything wrong. Not because Declan would lose his mind if he knew. But because I've spent years imagining what it might feel like to be wanted by Bishop.

I never considered how much worse it would be to discover I could get used to this. His arm around me. The sound of his breathing. The way he reaches for me without thinking.

As if I belong here.

A faint scratching sound comes from the bedroom door.

Bishop sighs. “Absolutely not.”

I lift my head. “What?”

Another scratch.

Followed by a very familiar, deeply offended meow.

I bite back a smile. “Darcy.”

“Your cat has been trying to break into my bedroom since six.”

I glance toward the clock. Eight seventeen. “You've been awake?”

“On and off.”

“And you didn't let him in?”

“Becks, I was enjoying the peace.”

Darcy meows again.

Louder.

Bishop closes his eyes. “Damn cat.”

I laugh.

“He's probably hungry.”

“He has food.”

“Maybe he wants company.”

“He has an entire apartment.”

“Bishop.”

He looks down at me. “What?”

“Let him in.”