The truth ached in his chest. How badly he’d craved them, how his desire for them had suffocated his lonely heart. Wanting and being wanted had been unimaginable, yet Bishop was there, crawling into his lap, sliding their thighs around his waist. They were there, prying at his lips, mouth still candle-hot and tinged with magic. There, surrounding him, holding on to him. “Be scared of me,” they rasped, breathing hard against his chin. “But don’t be afraid to touch me.”
