“I thought you were going home,” Bishop said easily, that hot voice biting Edison in his groin. Edison shrugged then dropped Bishop’s strong glare. He didn’t need him to feel sorry for him.
“I was waiting around to give you the contact information of the landscaping crew doing our overflow. His name is Shane and he’s really good. I wouldn’t give you his card otherwise.”
Edison felt something poke him in his shoulder through his thin dress shirt. He’d been concentrating so hard on not getting caught ogling Bishop’s private parts that he didn’t realize he’d produced a business card out of thin air. “Oh, sure. I appreciate that.” He mumbled. He’d been labeled as overflow. That meant excess that needed to be passed off. Edison dropped his head to start his ignition when he felt calloused fingers grip him under his chin, cupping most of his jaw and lifting until he was looking up at Bishop’s handsome face.
“Hold your head up, Edison,” Bishop said in a hushed rumble that Edison supposed was his version of a whisper.
His pulse slammed into overdrive and the adrenaline sent a spike of lust straight to his cock. But, he wasn’t sure if a small whimper escaped or not. Bishop’s midnight eyes fell to his lips while he stared, mesmerized. Bishop squinted, his forehead creasing as if he wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore. Whatever it was, Edison prayed it didn’t end, and the small contact lasted another five seconds.
Bishop withdrew his hand slowly, the roughness of his hardworking palm dragging pleasurably over Edison’s chin. He tried to sit still and not vibrate with pent-up lust but he failed. Oh gosh.
“With your head up, I can see you better,” Bishop rumbled, watching Edison as he backed away.
Chapter Twelve
Bishop
Bishop sat at the dining table at almost one in the morning still listening to his new audio book and sketching in his design pad. After running into Edison in that parking lot and seeing his reaction to him, to his touch… Bishop hadn’t been able to sleep. Even after jerking off twice in the shower. Yes, he’d done it. How could he not? That response was everything he’d wanted, everything he’d thought of every night for five damn years.
Edison.
Bishop had waited in his truck after he’d left the store to see if he’d come out and go home, or go back to the café, or for fuck’s sake, go after that Sky-guy. Practically growling at the design he was making, he kept adding pansies along the border of a flower bed, his hand movements getting jerky the more he thought of the fucked-up things he’d said to Edison. Damn, it’d been a while since Bishop had wanted to pummel someone. That was Trent’s department. Edison hadn’t done a terrible job of holding his own but there was something that dude had over him, and Bishop was almost tempted to find out. Almost. It could be territory he didn’t want to dive into. He could see what Edison wanted, he looked starved for it, but Bishop wasn’t interested in that anymore. No one-night stands. He really couldn’t go there with someone as sweet and innocent as Edison.
Bishop got up and stretched as far as he could, his fingertips almost grazing the ceiling. He should get to bed. He was exhausted. He’d been hauling bags of soil most of the day, all while training the four new guys they’d hired. He cracked his neck from side to side then rotated his shoulders. Shit, he was sore. He’d have done anything for a massage. Immediately, he wondered what Edison’s hands would feel like pressing firmly against his aching muscles. So eager to please him and make him feel good. Hands that were probably soft and unscathed by manual labor.
Bishop chuckled to himself. This is crazy. It was obvious Edison had the wrong idea about him. He thought Bishop was someone he wasn’t. He wasn’t the owner of Stockley Lawn Service, and that wasn’t his eleven-man crew working the grounds of the Town Center Office Suites. And he damn sure hadn’t put together that complicated bid that had won out over hundreds of other businesses. Edison thought he was a genius. And the second he found out that Bishop was the complete opposite, then that’d be the end of that.
Accepting reality, Bishop laid on his bed and draped his arm over his face. He knew he was being dramatic, but it was all right since there was no one else there to witness it. Man, he wanted to touch that soft cheek again and again. How did Edison manage to shave that close? And Bishop liked that while the man had a clean face, it wasn’t a baby one. Edison’s features were strong, and his warm brown and gold eyes seemed wise beyond their years. Oh yeah. He intrigued the hell out of Bishop. Groaning in torturous agony, he reached inside his boxer briefs with the same hand that’d grazed Edison’s skin, and wrapped it around his pulsing dick, his toes curling instantly.