Damned: Seven Tribesmen MC (23 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

Tingles crawled along Stella's back as she walked crisply to her office.  Bishop followed behind her, wordlessly.  She could sense his towering presence.  Excitement nipped at her heels as scraps of memories banged along the shield around her mind.  She attempted to still her throbbing heart and concentrate.

Bishop was here for a reason.  Too many options encircled her conscious thought.  He was here to confront her about her time with Newb, possibly thinking she was milking the poor guy for answers.  He wanted to apologize for his actions the other day.  He wanted to give her a tip.  He wanted to lead her to temptation, to distraction.  The thoughts piled up in Stella's mind.

She swept into her office, leaving Bishop to close the door after he stepped in.  Then, she waltzed to her desk, so the furniture was firmly between them.  It was a short distance and a weak barrier against the allure she still felt for him.  Still, she attempted a chilly tone as she addressed him. “What do you want, Mr. Bishop?”

Bishop scuffed his boots across the wooden floor.  He didn't know why he wanted to see Stella.  He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find a conversational starting point.  “Newb says you've been visiting him a lot lately.”

“Well, he did take a few bullets for me.”  So, Bishop thought she was using Shupe for intel.  Stella tried to ease the disappointment from her shoulders.  Pasting on a thin grin, she shrugged her shoulders.  “I figured I could show my gratitude by bringing him some heart-clogging fast food.”

Quiet tension hung in the air.  Bishop grunted something that sounded suspiciously like 'good, good.'  Stella watched him carefully, but he refused to look at her and the muscle in his jaw flexed continually.  She could almost see a mental war going on in his head; however, the content of his inner turmoil remained lost to her.

Bishop mentally kicked himself.  He didn't know where that topic was meant to go.  In hindsight, it seemed to be a question that a jealous boyfriend or Stan would ask.  Bishop's stomach lurched at that prospect and, now, he couldn't bear to drag his gaze to Stella.  Although now his thoughts were less agitated and he took solace in her disinterest in Newb.

Stella cleared her throat, gaining his attention. “Anything else, Mr. Bishop?  I'm very busy.”

Bishop bristled.  Was Stella trying to say he wasn't busy?  What did she think the Seven Tribesmen were doing?  He scowled and said, “Yeah, so are the Seven Tribesmen.”

“Then, you better get going.”  She smiled thinl
y—
despite the fact amusement peppered her thoughts.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, part of him not wanting to reveal any information, part of him wanting to continue to talk to Stella.  He ran a hand through his hair and averted his gaze.  “I figured out what you meant when you left my office that day.”

“It wasn't meant to be cryptic,” Stella chuckled, but cocked an eyebrow.  The ache to talk to Bishop and spend time with him grew painful.  She forced the slight smile from her lips, straining her lips into a neutral expression.  She pushed away from her desk and began to stroll toward the door, as if to usher Bishop out. “I really must be getting back to work, Mr. Bishop.”

“Wait.” Bishop's nimble fingers grabbed Stella by her elbow.  She swallowed down her emotions as the feeling of his strength teased her nerves.  Their eyes locked and heat roiled between them.  Bishop licked his lips, before rasping, “You told me it would be too big for the 7T.”

“Yes.” Stella nodded her head, forcing herself to stare at his eyes. 

“Well, I wager it's too big for the FBI, as well.”  Bishop toed the dark whirlpool of uncertainty.  He wanted Stella away from the situation, away from danger.  If she didn't shove off, she could get tied up in his club activities.  His fingers tightened on her elbow, thinking about how the White Knights had almost got her. 

Stella's eyes shot to his hand on her elbow.  His hold had tightened for a beat, whether out of intimidation or fear, she wasn't sure.  Her gaze slowly climbed back to his face.  “What are you saying, Bishop?”

“You guys aren't equipped to deal with motorcycle club affairs,” Bishop asserted, leaning over Stella.  His heart thrummed just thinking of her being caught between feuding club
s
—
especially
with a cartel involve
d—
she'd have a big, red target painted on her back.  And it would all be thanks to him. “
I am
and it'd be better if I didn't have to worry about feds pissing on my hard work.”

“The FBI will protect the people of the United States, Mr. Bishop.”  She narrowed her eyes, her tone icier than she expected it to be, pulled her arm out of Bishop's grasp, and straightened her clothes.   Without looking into his eyes, Stella sniffed, “We won't idly sit by while crime syndicates and drug cartels have a violent pissing match under our noses.”

“
Crime syndicates
?” Bishop gawped, incredulity piercing the anxiety of this thoughts. 

“Now, Mr. Bishop, if your intimidation tactics are over with,” Stella made a move toward the door, “I must insist you leave.”

Bishop suddenly felt as if he didn't have a handle on the situation.  Not that he expected Stella to listen to him, but for her to blatantly misrepresent the situation sent a sick chill through his thoughts.  Had their time apart already done this much damage on their relationship?  “
Intimidation
?  You really think that's what this was about?”

“That's what the Seven Tribesmen have done to this town.”  Stella stopped with her hand a few inches from the door.  Her eyes flickered to Bishop's face, as her thoughts tumbled and tangled around one another.  She knew he wanted her away from this situation.  He wanted her far, far away to protect himself or, just maybe, to keep her safe.  The latter thought brought a pleasant warmth to her core and a frustrated prickle to her thoughts.  The challenge flared in her eyes and steeled her tone.  Stella took a step closer to Bishop, growling under her breath, “What's a little FBI agent to their big, bad boss?”

Bishop's gaze flickered over her face.  The man seemed lost, as his expression pinched and eyebrows furrowed.  Stella couldn't pinpoint his emotions, but she saw fear, uncertainty, hope, and frustration all swarm in his eyes.  He couldn't find any words to assuage Stella, who stood before him as an immovable statue of determination.  Her scent danced through his head, intoxicating and distracting.  Her body heat licked at his skin and reminders of having her pressed against him tickled his memories.  Only one word, one answer, seemed sufficient for Stella in his mind.

“Everything,” rasped Bishop, as the tension in the air exploded into pure, erotic heat.

“Wha–?”Stella didn't a chance to finish her question.  Bishop leaned down, catching her by the back of the head.  He pressed her closer, catching her lips against his.  For a split second, surprise needled through Stella's thought
s—
before desire cleaved through it.  Her eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned into the kiss, raising up on her tiptoes and bracing herself against his chest.

Hormones overtook Stella's thoughts and, for a brief moment, she forgot where she was.  She forgot about the breaking cocaine case.  She forgot the police department.  All her brain seemed to focus on was Bisho
p—
his body heat, his mouth, and his muscles twitching under her palms.

Bishop hoisted her up, cradling her by her ass.  He pressed her harder into him, as her supple thighs wrapped around his torso.  Heat knotted in his lower stomach, making his growing erection pulse and throb.  An ache he wasn't aware of was lost in the hormones and the rush of heat.

He stumbled to her desk, setting her rump atop the paperwork strewn over it.  Papers wrinkled and hissed under the shift of her body.  She clung to him, enjoying his heated, slow kiss.  His hands grazed over her body, his palms like fire through her clothes.  She moaned against his mouth, writhing under his touch.

His fingers played with the button and zipper of her pants, undoing the restraints and coaxing the slacks down.  Excitement filled Stella's lungs as the fabric passed down her legs and over her shoes, pooling onto the floor beneath her.  Her breasts tingled with long-withheld desire, her fingers crooked around his shoulders, digging into his back.

Reverence danced in Bishop's mind, battling against caution.  Their last weekend together was supposed to be the end.  This wasn't supposed to happen.  However, his hands moved of their own accord.  He could feel Stella's brown eyes on his face as he pulled away.  Her scent, her heat, it drove him crazy.  Woozy intoxication played across his thoughts, taunting his hormones and pulling his worries into the clouds of carelessness.

Stella watched him as he knelt before her spread knees.  Anticipation and excitement sifted through her nerves.  His hot breath played over her thighs, driving Stella's hormones into a frenzy.  Her fingers curled against papers on the desk, her breathing hiccupping slightly.

Bishop watched her from between her legs.  His lips twitched into a smile as her scent and heat surrounded him.  It was dizzying and delightful.  Over her panties, his tongue pulled across her swelling lips.  Stella sharply inhaled, his tongue reviving a sense of passion that had been missing the last few days.  Heat soaked through the panties, taunting her sex.  When his fingers looped through the elastic of her panties, Stella's heart shuddered with eagerness.  She closed her eyes and bit her lip, hoping their time apart hadn't made her painfully sensitive to his ministrations.

Her core warmed and seared, aching to feel his tongue against her.  Briefly, his mouth left her underwear, as his fingers forcefully edged it around her seated rear and down her thighs, down her knees, down her ankles, over her shoes.  Her sex was now bared to the cold draft and Bishop's eyes, and a sudden mixture of hot and cold roiled inside Stella.

Soft, malleable heat grazed between her lips.  She clenched her eyes shut and tingling pleasure raced over her limbs.  Her fingers dug into the edge of the desk, adjusting her hips until they were right on the edge of the furniture.  Bishop grinned against her, enjoying her subtle reactions and the throaty, soft groans that involuntarily left her.  The muscles in her thighs twitched as his tongue lazily lapped at her, up and down.  Inching closer and closer to her swollen nub of sensitive nerves.

His fingers worked their way up her legs, massaging them.  He could feel the muscles along her calves, as she curled her toes in her heels.  His erection throbbed in his jeans, hot and ready. 

Bishop wanted to take his time though.  He wanted to enjoy every inch of Stella.  He wanted to drown in her scent, her torrid body heat, and the sounds he'd hear echoing from her throat.

Stella's fingers sifted through his hair, tangling in the locks.  Her hips shifted, obviously yearning for his immediate attention.  She savored the feelings that he coaxed out of her.  The fact that had settled in her mind their last weekend together was that no other man could play her body as expertly as Arthur Bishop.  The thought was bitter and left a bile taste in her mouth.

Her enjoyment stuttered as knuckles rapped on her office door.  Her eyes flew open.  Had they locked the door?  Her mind scrabbled to remember.  Her body, however, wasn't wasting time.  Stella pushed Bishop back and herded him, wordlessly, beneath her desk.  The hulk of a man barely fit, but he obliged, mind muzzy from hormones.

Stella plopped down in her chair and scooted against the desk, her knees on either side of Bishop, just as the door swung open. 

Agent Grant sauntered in, holding a small pile of documents against her chest.  Her gaze flicked over Stella's desk, eyebrows ticking upward.  She looked worriedly at Stella, her voice laced with the ultimate concern, “What happened in here?”

Stella stopped, her gaze cast over the desk littered with crumpled and wrinkled documents.  She swallowed, deciding a half-truth was in order.  “Uh, Bishop pushed me on the desk.  The papers got rumpled.”

“Oh, my God.  Are you all right?”  Agent Grant's eyes widened, and she sidled closer to the desk. 

“Yeah, I'm fine.”  Stella took a deep, shaky breath and weakly smiled.  From between her thighs, she could feel Bishop smile against her skin.  The sensation unnerved and excited her to no end.  Stella shifted awkwardly, barely containing a whimper as his lips worked kisses and nips against her thigh.