Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
I pull her down from the lip of the pool, turning in the water and hooking her ankles behind me. I slip my hands under her butt to keep her floating with me, around me.
“This thing between us, Sofie.” I dot kisses across her lips, under her chin, and over the long column of her neck. “Not only has it already gone too far…”
I pull back so she can see my eyes and know exactly what my next words mean to me.
“But I’m too far gone.”
For a moment, I wonder if I’ve said too much, pushed too hard. But then she lifts those lashes, her green eyes soft and settled on mine. Her next words make me want her more, and make me so glad I waited to hear them.
“So am I, Bishop.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sofie
I have no one to blame but myself for being in this position.
Technically, that’s not true. As I step out of the car onto a freaking red carpet, to flashing bulbs and a receiving line of dignitaries, I realize I can also blame Trevor.
“You didn’t tell me it would be quite so…” I pause long enough to smile for a photographer practically contorting to get the right shot. “Public. Such a big deal.”
“Did I not?” Trevor squints one eye as if trying to remember. “I told you it was formal.”
“Yes, but there’s a red carpet and lots of media, and I think I just spotted a prime minister.”
“Maybe one or two.” He shrugs, broad shoulders straining against his well-cut tuxedo jacket. “Not a big deal.”
I glance at him in a tuxedo. I must admit, we do make a striking couple. Him in his finery, and me in the midnight blue dress François sent from his evening-wear line. It reaches the floor and has deep cutouts under my arms, bares my entire back, and reveals the sides of my breasts. I study the other women here, and feel like I’m a little too much. They’re all wearing evening gowns, but mine seems more glamorous, which isn’t a surprise, but I don’t want to stand out. I haven’t blended in one day of my life, but tonight, I’d like to. It’s Trevor’s night, not mine. And the last thing I want is to become the center of—
“Sofie, who are you wearing?” a photographer yells from behind the rope.
It has begun…
“This dress was sent over by the fabulous François Gerrard.”
Trevor and I take a few more steps before another reporter tosses out a question.
“Where’s Rip tonight, Sofie?”
Trevor is standing close enough for me to feel him tense at my side.
“I have no idea.” I offer a smile so plastic it should be recycled.
“So are the reports true that you and Rip are no longer together?”
“Michael and I remain very good friends, and I wish him well.” Before they can fire another question, probably about Trevor, I continue. “Tonight is about my dear friend Mr. Bishop and this amazing event, and I want to keep it that way. Good night.”
Another round of questions comes, but I dismiss them with a quick wave and another plastic smile.
Trevor wraps one hand around my elbow and lays the other at my back, directing me into the Savoy and toward the ballroom, where the dinner is being held. Before we reach the room, already packed and buzzing with people, I pull him into an empty hall to the side.
“Hey.” I take both his hands, looking up to study the closed expression I’ve rarely seen on his face. “I’m sorry about that. It must’ve been awkward for you. They don’t care about awkward.”
“What was awkward,” he says, reaching to brush the hair I left loose back over my shoulder, “was you calling me a dear friend.”
I open my mouth and then close it, unsure how to respond.
“That’s what has you bent out of shape?”
“I’m not bent out of shape.”
I tilt my head, giving him a knowing look.
“Okay.” His face relents a small grin. “I’m a little bent.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“Do you not want people to know we’re together?”
“You shouldn’t want people to know we’re together, Trevor.” I drop my eyes to the swirling pattern in the carpet. “Being with me…being seen with me…it draws the kind of attention I don’t think you want.”
“Sofie, I know what being with you means.” He leaves a kiss behind my ear. “It means lots of takeout food.”
He drops a kiss on my lips.
“Lots of cheating in the pool.”
We laugh into the next kiss.
“And lots of blue balls.”
I lean back so he can’t kiss me.
“That, Mr. Bishop, is on you.” I slide my hand under his tuxedo jacket until my hand cups his ass.
God, this ass.
“I don’t believe in blue balls.” My eyes match the sultry heat of his. “Matter of fact, I am fundamentally opposed to them in a relationship.”
“Oh, so we’re in a relationship now?” He teases me with a grin, even though my heart flutters at his words. My breath catching at what I just said. At what he just asked me.