Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
It’s Sharon again. Your father fell, and I’ve taken him to St. Anthony’s. I’ll keep trying to call with updates.
My heart was racing as I read each text.
They’ve admitted him with a broken hip. He’s doing fine and in good spirits otherwise, but he keeps asking for you.
Oh. God.
I was out of the bed and shoving on my clothes so fast I grew dizzy and surprisingly was pretty silent and stealthy in the act, since Bishop didn’t even move. His breathing stayed deep and even, and a flush stole over my entire body as I realized why he was out cold… why he was so spent.
I shook my head. I couldn’t think about anything like that. I had to focus on clearing my head and composing myself. The last thing I wanted to do was have my father see me in a frantic, panic-driven state.
My heart was beating so hard and fast I was sure Bishop would wake up, and once I was fully dressed, I glanced at him. I hated leaving like this, but if I woke him, there would be questions, ones I didn't have time to answer. He’d insist on coming with me. I knew that for a fact, and as much as I’d love the support—needed it—I had to get out of here and be with my father.
He was okay, as Sharon said, but even so, I wanted to talk to the doctors and hear that for myself. I wanted to look into my father’s aged face and see the same strong man I’d always known.
I shook my head and silently left the bedroom, giving Bishop one more look over my shoulder, my heart aching, everything in me saying to go to him and let him help me through this. I had to get my head on right, make sure my dad was okay. After that… if Bishop still wanted me, then I’d cross that bridge and run into his arms, which I hoped were open for me.
CHAPTER 14
Bishop
I’d never slept so well, and I knew it was because I had Korrie in my bed. In my arms.
After worshipping her body and feeling mind-numbing pleasure with her, I curled my arms around her, sheltering her body with mine, and fell asleep nearly instantly.
I was blessedly drunk off contentment and feeling like the world was right and perfect because I finally had Korrie.
As I slowly blinked my eyes open, the room still dark but the promise of the morning sun hinting through the curtains, I knew instantly she was gone. I felt that hollowness, that coldness wash over me.
I reached out, my eyes still groggy and blurry from sleep, and smoothed my palm over the sheets where she’d been.
Empty.
The bed was cool to the touch, the feeling of her not being here with me causing this unexplainable heavy panic to settle within me. I bolted upright and looked around, listening, hearing nothing but the house settling and early morning sounds of the city starting to wake up coming from outside.
Scrubbing a hand over my jaw, I felt scruff covering my cheeks. I was hungover, but the good kind because you’d fucked so well, claimed so hard you were drained dry. I’d never before felt like this and knew I never would again. Korrie was the key to this feeling.
I tossed the blankets back and stood, seeing her clothes were gone, her purse missing. She left. No note. No goodbye.
Maybe a less pathetic man, a less obsessed one, would have taken that as a hint. Not me. I’d already fallen for her, and I wasn’t letting her get away that easily.
I snatched up my cell phone and called her number, unsure exactly when she’d left, but it couldn’t have been too long ago. We’d been together for hours before falling asleep, making love—fucking—and still the sun hadn’t risen yet.
I could’ve just missed her.
Fuck, my heart was pounding as I listened to her phone ring before clicking over to voice mail. I didn’t know why I was so panicked, but it was like these claws stuck in my gut, shredding it, telling me if I didn’t go to her and make her see that we were meant to be together—that she was meant to be mine—I’d never be happy.
But the way she’d touched me, moaned for me, the way she’d writhed under me and called out my name in ecstasy told me that she had been in the moment with me, that there was no doubt she felt the same possessiveness for me that I did for her.
I know that in my heart. It has to be true. I can’t be the only one losing my mind to these feelings.
I tried calling her again, and once more. No answer. I sent off some texts, asking if she was okay, why she’d left, telling her I was coming over.