But Bull didn’t seem interested in discussing her father. His gray gaze was intense as he stared down at her, his touch on her skin igniting little fires up her arm and down her neck.
“Did ye really come here to talk about the investigation, love?” he whispered.
And Rosie knew this was her opportunity.
She surged up on her toes, wrapping her arm around his neck—not caring how her robe gaped open as she did so—and pulled his lips down to hers.
For a moment Bull hesitated, and she worried she’d been too bold…and then, as if a dam had burst, he took command of their kiss.
His mouth was hot and demanding against hers, and Rosie felt the kiss all the way down to her toes. Bull’s lips were firm, moving over hers with a confidence that made her knees weak. When his tongue traced the seam of her mouth, she opened for him eagerly, and the first stroke of his tongue against hers sent a jolt of heat straight between her legs.
Yes.
He kissed like he did everything else: with complete focus and passion and intensity. His tongue explored her mouth, sliding against hers, retreating then returning to coax herinto playing back. This wasn’t the first kiss they’d shared, and like this morning in the breakfast room, they were no longer playing a role.
Here and now, they were just Rosie and Bull. Just themselves.
When she tentatively touched her tongue to his, he groaned low in his throat and deepened the kiss, one hand tightening in the hair at the back of her head—the hair he himself had styled—while the other splayed across her lower back, pulling her tight against him.
Yes.
She could feel the hard planes of his bare chest through the thin fabric of her nightrail, the heat of his skin burning through the cotton. Rosie pressed closer, desperate for more contact, and felt the unmistakable hardness of him against her belly. The sensation made her gasp into his mouth and her hips rolled forward of their own accord, seeking that giddy pressure again.
“For fook’s sake, Rose,” Bull muttered against her lips, nipping at her bottom lip hard enough to make her whimper, even as she wanted to smile at his tease. “Having ye in my arms…ye feel what ye do to me?”
She nodded, unable to form words, and gyrated against him again. The friction was delicious but not nearly enough.
Rosie knew just how much she wanted.
Bull’s mouth moved from her lips to her jaw, kissing and nipping along the line of it. His tongue traced the shell of her ear, and when he bit down gently on her earlobe, she moaned. His hand tugged her robe from her shoulders,and she eagerly released his neck to shrug it off. When she felt the robe sliding down her body to pool at her feet, she eagerly took a hold of him once more.
His hand slid up from her back to cup her breast through her nightgown, and even through the fabric the touch was…it waselectric. He squeezed gently, and Rosie could do nothing but arch into his hold with a gasp that he caught and swallowed down.
Oh God, yes.
Before Rosie could process what was happening, he’d turned them both, pressing her back against the door. The solid wood was cool against her shoulders, a stark contrast to the furnace of his body possessing her front. He kissed her again, harder this time, his tongue demanding entrance and she gave it gladly.
Just when she thought she could take no more, his thumb found her nipple through the cotton, circling it, and she felt as if there was a string, awire, running from where he touched her directly to her core. The pressure was building, building, and she could only imagine she was dripping with desire by now.
“These sweet tits,” Bull murmured, breaking the kiss to stare down at where his hand was reverentially working. He squeezed her breast, then found her nipple again, this time rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation shot straight to her core and she arched into his touch. “So fooking perfect, Rose, so perfect. Christ, love, I’ve been dreaming of this…”
Wait. Hehad?
All this time, Rosie had thought she’d been the one to pursue him, the one holding an infatuation.
Buthe’dbeen dreaming ofher?
Yes, yes, perhaps. But for now, could we get back to the reveling in these sensations, please and thank you?
Right.
Bull tugged on her nipple as he nuzzled her neck, and Rosie couldn’t contain the needy sound that escaped her as she pressed her shoulders against the door behind her. Her hands clutched at the towel around his shoulders to stay upright as he moved to her other breast, giving it the same attention.
Then his mouth was there, hot and wet even through the cotton of her nightgown. He suckled her nipple through the cotton, the sensation was so intense her hips bucked wildly and she nearly came undone right then.
How could he make her feel like this while she was wearing her most shapeless, practical-for-cold-Scottish-nights nightrail?
“Bull,” Rosie whimpered as he switched to her other breast, his tongue circling the peaked nipple before sucking it into his mouth. His teeth scraped over the sensitive bud, and she cried out.
