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neck, “You're very welcome, Miss Holmes, but I told you to call me Art.”
     
    “And I told you to call me Agent Holmes, didn't I?” Stella swallowed, trying to cling to annoyance and frustration. She refused to turn and meet his gaze. Her shaky resolve would shatter under his intense grey gaze and his perpetual smirk.
     
    Bishop chuckled, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her wrist. Stella steeled herself, delight bubbling in her blood, straining to hear Bishop's next words, “Fair enough, Agent.”
     
    “Did-did you want something?” The woman closed her eyes, taking deep breaths through her nose. The urge to flirt, to turn, to touch was overwhelming. It was a complete spectrum change from earlier with Stan. In fact, Stella couldn't remember the last time a man had her feeling so unhinged. The continual reminder – he's a criminal, he's a criminal, he's a criminal – acted as a mantra for her resolve.
     
    “No, I suppose not.” After a moment of silence, Bishop's defeated reply felt like a cold stab to Stella's guts. He had given up. Stella wasn't sure how to think of the newest occurrence. His warm, calloused hand pulled away from her wrist, leaving her all the colder. “Good night.”
     
    The woman remained facing the door, her hand still grasping the doorknob. Something nudged against her restraint and it shook unsteadily.
     
    Overhead, the sky rumbled and the atmosphere shifted. The sudden tattoo of torrential rainfall rattled off the metal canopy that shielded the walkway. Stella opened the door, but glanced over her shoulder before ducking into the room. Bishop stood at the edge of the dry area, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lip, staring at the falling rain. Something clenched inside of Stella, and her resolution fell.
     
    “Bishop.” The word came out soft on her lips. Stella was surprised when the man turned, eyebrow cocked. She leaned in the doorjamb, her eyes flickering from the rain and the biker. Tingling heat nipped at her cheeks. “You can stay until the rain stops.”

CHAPTER SIX
     
    As Stella closed the door to her room, she listened to Bishop scuffing his boots behind her. Outside, thunder rumbled, and rain pattered. Excitement thrummed through her body, and her brain steeped in confusion. It was only a few minutes. An hour, at most. The rain would end soon, and he'd be on his way after she rejected his advances. That's what Stella tried to tell herself, at least.
     
    “Remember in the shed?” A smirk twisted along his words, smug and hot. Bishop was driven by hormones. He wasn't able to swallow the urge to touch her any longer. 
     
    His body heat ghosted over her back as the biker leaned over her. Bishop's hands slid down her shoulders, along her arms, grasping her hands where they rested against the door. An electric thrill lit Stella's body. Her breathing hitched, despite herself, and she clenched her eyes shut.
     
    Stella nodded, her heart trembling with excitement.
     
    “Those little sounds you made, the gasps and whimpers, they've been driving me crazy,” he breathed. She didn't push him away or tense under his touch. In fact, she seemed to relax under his hands.
     
    “Ha-have they?”
     
    “Yes.” His hot breath tickled her neck. Stella swallowed heavily, battling with herself. A small strand of propriety clung to her mind. The searing hormones burned at her thoughts and drowned out everything else. Her imagination supplied her with presumptive moans and groans, the scent of sweat, the squeak of her bed. And no one would know. No one would see them. They were in her room, by themselves, with no busybodies poking around.
     
    Taking a deep breath, Stella opened her eyes and stared at the white door in front of her. The ache of her starving sexual appetite pulsed in her lower tummy. Bishop's thumbs stroked across her knuckles. Even the bony parts of Stella felt soft under his touch.
     
    Without a word, Stella pulled her hands away from the door. Mistaking