Fool's Gold: A Kisses and Crimes Novel (18 page)

“I need you to help me take your clothes off, help me break your fever… and then
get the fuck out of my life
,” she finishes.

 

THE COLD WAR
 

BISHOP

 

She’s going to drown me in the bathtub.

She’d have every right to.

Fever, rapid and blistering, had already taken over my body before I ever made it inside of Dani’s hotel room, and while talking to her, unbeknownst to my scrambled mind, I’ve been lying there, mumbling while swimming in a puddle of my own sweat.

The cold rag was an attempt to break the fever.

But it continued to soar.

As Dani draws an ice bath, I listen from the bedroom, soaking in the sounds of the flowing water.

She glances warily at me, her eyes perusing my body from my head to my feet, and I almost don’t have the wits to be wary.

I know she’s challenging me to make a choice.

I can put my trust in Dani’s hands the way she’d once put hers in mine in Annecy or… I can do what I’ve always done…

Walk away.

Go back to the FBI. Accept the consequences of going AWOL.

And live the rest of my days in misery without her.

She’s leaving the decision up to me. I can see it in her angry but beautiful eyes.

I decide to accept the dare.

I wait.

“Are you going to get in or not?” she asks, dipping a hand inside the filled bathtub.

I roll over, placing my feet on the floor with more determination than I actually feel. When I finally stand, my body is weak… but my mind is made up.

“I’m in.”

To my surprise, she walks over to me.

Reaching her hands out, she takes my jacket off, avoiding my wounds before placing it carefully at the edge of the bed. Her hands inching downwards, she places them on my jeans, unzipping and unbuttoning silently as I hold my breath, letting her fingertips brush below my navel.

Dani kneels beside my knees, her fingertips brushing my thighs, skimming as she pulls my pants down past my hips.

One zip, one swoop, two ruffles and I am out of the pants, dropping them to my ankles before I toss them to the side.

Last to go… are my black boxer briefs.

Staring Dani in the face, holding her gaze all the while, she and I slide them down my legs, pulling them gently over each foot.

She doesn’t bat an eyelash as I walk, stark naked, towards the bathroom. I tower over her as she watches. I step into her cold bathtub without another word.

The heat of her gaze keeps me warm the entire time.

 

***

 

DANI

 

He tries to hold his composure as long as he possibly can before his teeth begin to chatter.

The bullets, the ones that tore through the most beautiful combination of ligaments, muscle and flesh I have ever seen, bear their mark on Bishop’s blazing hot skin, and my fingers involuntarily flinch as they touch him.

I try to steep his body beneath the icy layer of the cold water, but it hardly works. The muscle that divides his body into beautifully cut lines is too dense to keep him submerged, and I must admit…

Some part of me finds too much pleasure in putting my hands all over it.

I touch his strong shoulders, letting my hand linger at the blood that begins to tinge the water through his soaked bandages.

“Are you going to try to kill me?” he asks, startling me.

He never opens his eyes.

“No,” I answer.

“I’m half-dead and probably delusional, Dani. My defenses are down, my dick is out in the cold, and I’d rather not die with my balls shrunken to the size of raisins in this artic-cold bath.”

He keeps his face as solid as steel.

“How do I know you haven’t already tried?”

I wipe his face. “Have I tried to cook for you… tried to feed you at all?”

“No.”

“Then I think you’ve answered your own question.”

He smiles slightly, but the expression is more grimace than grin.

He starts to talk.

“I need to tell you something, Dani…” he grunts.

I settle on the edge of the tub, sitting. “I already know, Bishop.”

His eyes shoot open.

“Know what?”

“Know
about Delaney
. I know he’s the man who helped you growing up.”

He sighs.

“Yeah, he did. He’d straightened me up. Had me set sights on your father and convinced me to take his ass down.”

He looks straight at me.

“To take down
all
of the Gafanellis.”

“Well,” I comment dryly. “Congratu-fucking-lations.
You’re a tenth of the way there
.”

He tries to sit up. He almost fails.

He hunches forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

His eyes are amber-green flames, licking at my skin, making it grow hot.

“You think that’s what I’m here to do, Dani?
To take you down
?”

“You’re FBI,” I say unblinkingly. “The FBI, the government… they’re one of the biggest mafia syndicates there is. What goes on between ‘them’ and us… is simply a big turf war on steroids.”

I shake my head, lowering my gaze from Bishop’s.

“And you
are
‘them.’”


Don’t
,” Bishop growls. “
Don’t talk about ‘us’ or ‘them’ like it’s you and me.
It isn’t… and it never will be.
We?
We are just
you and me
, Dani. That’s it… and that’s fucking all.”


Does Delaney know that
?”

Bishop simply glowers, and I look away from him, feeling my defenses soften, trying
desperately
to keep them high and hard.

One night’s stay,
one crumpled-up note
in a jean pocket and suddenly I’m convinced that I can trust him again?

Talking to him? Letting him in here? Helping him?

The second he gets better, he could throw my ass back in cuffs. And this time the cuffs won’t come off until I’m rotting away behind the bars of some American penitentiary.

He needs to leave.

“Looks like your fever is breaking… I’ll drain the water. Replace it with a colder batch. And then you can be on your way.”

Sitting, Bishop looks up at me.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dani.”

I balk.

“Yes, you are.”

His voice is calm.
Too
calm. “No, kitten, I’m not.”

My lips begin to tremble with anger. “You’re mistaking my kindness for weakness. Just because I’d rather not see you die in the
middle of my hotel room
doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you die.”

I point a finger in his direction.

“You’re nothing but a liar and a fraud.” I clench my teeth together.

I turn, storming out of the bathroom, and to my horror, Bishop—half-bloodied and fully angry—follows on my heels.

Naked and dripping wet from head to toe, he yells at me from behind.


Why do you want to hold onto who you were, Dani
?”

I don’t face him.

“Get out,” I say into the air.


No.
You’re going to stay and fucking talk to me.”

I explode, whirling on him.

“No, Bishop.
Fuck you!
Despite what you may think and what you’ve tried to do,
you don’t own me!

And then he grabs me, shaking me by the shoulders, as water droplets go flying and my lips clamp shut in surprise.

“Yes, I do,” he rasps, his voice ground with pure grit and gravel.

“From the moment I took one look at you, from the second I put my hands on your skin and claimed your body for myself, you have been mine, Dani. And mine, alone.

You belong to me
.

And if you’re being honest with yourself, you’ll admit that this is
exactly
the way you want it.”

He shakes his head, breathing heavily into my face.

“You still don’t get it, do you, kitten?” he practically snarls. “The old Dani is
dead
… and she’s never coming back. And you know what?
I’m fucking glad
.

Because the old me is gone, too. And that
is
just the fucking way
I
want it.”

He tugs on the hair at my nape.

“You want to know which side you belong to?

You want to know who you are?

I’ll make it easy for you…

You are Daniela Marie Gabriela Bishop…
and you are my wife
.

And as long as I fucking breathe, that’s the
only
side I will
ever
be on.

I don’t fucking know how else to say this. To let you know that…

I waved the white flag the minute I saw you.
I’ve been surrendering to you ever since.

And I don’t give a
fuck
how many holes the bastards put in me. They could turn me into fucking Swiss cheese, for all I fucking care.

So, don’t tell me to ‘get out.’
Don’t tell me
to leave you or walk the fuck away because it’s never going to fucking happen.”

He glares at the angry tears in my eyes.

“You want to hurt me?
Here…
” He holds out his arms. “
I told you before, Dani
. All that I am or ever was is yours to do whatever you want with. There is no part of me that doesn’t belong to you. You
have
my body. You
have
my trust. You have my fucking
everything
.”

He stares into my face, beating me down with the clarity of the truth and his forest-colored eyes.

He beats me down with a love that I can’t deny.


I love you, Dani
, and I’m yours. I’ve always
been
yours. You’re the only thing I’ve ever fucking belonged to.”

A shockingly palpable shudder rocks me as his hands, cold on the surface and hotter beneath, reach beneath my jaw, bringing my face an inch from his.

He hesitates.

And then, with little warning, he claims my mouth with his, slanting my face and lips so that they move perfectly in sync as he deepens the most wicked fucking kiss I have ever experienced.

And in that moment, with embarrassingly little resistance, without a shred of struggle left in me,
I let him
.

I let his tongue stroke the wrath right out my mouth.

I let his lips kiss away the fight in me.

Until I catch my second wind, and I return Bishop’s irresistible embrace, taking my anger out on his mouth until we are kissing each other so fiercely that our passion has nowhere to go but onto each other.

Enraged, aroused and confused beyond all belief, I throw every bit of my emotion into Bishop’s body.

This is not a kiss built of romance and flowers.

It is a
battle
of unimaginable need.

Nothing about our connection was ever sweet. Our pairing was never sugary.

From the moment we truly gave into our attraction, Bishop and I built the type of bond that could only manifest itself in the way we lived our lives.

Hard. Fast.

And devastatingly violent.

Resisting the urge to bite into his skin, forgetting about his bruises and bandages, I grip his arms with both hands, digging my fingers into the cuts of his triceps.

Emboldened, feeling stronger than I’ve ever felt, I allow myself to crash against the planes of Bishop’s body.

Wanting more of him. Never getting enough.

His kisses swing from hard to slow and back again, and all the while he whispers sweet
everythings
to me.

Ceding ownership of his body and soul over to me. Letting his lips do the talking but his
tongue
do the convincing.

He never mentions the note in his pocket
… and I never bring up the fact that I snooped while he was sleep and found it.

For now, though, it is enough.

His love is enough. His touch is enough.

He
is enough.

And when he presses his naked erection below my navel, it is all I can do not to jump up and wrap myself wholly around it.

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