Bishop (Cerberus MC Book 27) by Marie James

Author:Marie James [James, Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: MC Romance
Publisher: MJB Publishing
Published: 2023-07-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Bishop

I’ve had more issues than I can count, trying to align my reality with the dreams I’ve had.

I know part of my problem with my entire situation stems from Sunshine talking to me so much while I was out.

My mind has correlated the woman’s voice in my dreams to her. The woman sitting in the audience at the wedding had to be her. She was the calm in my chest all the times I felt stuck in quicksand while watching Rivet with another man. She’s the only one then who could ease that pain in my chest, the only thing that calmed me.

That may be why I can’t seem to let go of this notion that maybe she’s supposed to be mine. But even with that thought, there’s no reason that the sight of her licking her lips after taking a bite of greasy pizza should make my body react the way that it is.

She isn’t moaning or doing anything to make me stare at her. She’s not trying to be provocative. It’s fucking pepperoni and banana peppers after all. It’s delicious, but not exactly life altering.

I resituate the plate on my lap, feeling like a fucking teen using a school binder to cover up the situation in my pants because I can’t fucking control my damn body.

It’s ridiculous, this idea in my head that Sunshine is the perfection I don’t think I was looking for even though I can’t remember the last five years.

She chuckles, covering her mouth with her hand as she continues to chew. Her eyes are locked on the television and mine of course are on her.

If she knows I’m staring at her, she doesn’t clue me in. She doesn’t look nervous or annoyed with my attention burning into the side of her face.

Her eyes dart in my direction, the smile falling from her face.

“We can watch something else,” she offers, pointing her half-eaten slice of pizza at the television.

“I like this show,” I say, more seduction in my voice than I should have.

Her eyes stay locked on mine, and I know she can tell I’m not talking about whatever is on the television.

She gives me another one of her familiar fake smiles, but this one doesn’t feel like a manipulation. It doesn’t feel like she’s trying to convince me she feels one way when she actually feels another.

It seems nervous, as if she doesn’t know how to act with my flirting.

When she came back into the house after her phone call, the conversation of pizza in a sexual way had fizzled. She didn’t seem upset, but there was a sad sort of resignation to her mannerism.

As she turns her attention back to the television, her cheeks full of pink vibrancy, I fight the urge to ask her what has been bothering her. I haven’t known her but for a few days and her issues could very well trace back months or years. She could have a complicated life, but there’s only a tiny sliver in me that argues against getting in the middle of what could be a very messy situation.

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