The Highland Fling(76)
“I could have stayed in the minute you showed up to my door.”
“Aye . . . me too, lass.”
“This isn’t going to work.” Bonnie shakes her head and slaps her napkin on the table. “We’re going to need to leave, actually. I’m going to ask Dakota to come pick me up so I don’t have to ride back with you.”
“Could ye be any more dramatic?”
“Dramatic?” Her voice rises before she leans in and whispers, “You’ve never seen one Star Wars movie. How is that even something? Is that a Scotland thing?”
“No, I just never felt the need to watch them. Not a sci-fi person.”
“It’s not—” She presses a hand to her forehead. “It’s not really sci-fi. I mean, yeah, it’s in space, but it’s a space opera. There’s drama and love and lasers and sassy droids and hairy seven-foot-tall beasts that speak a language everyone understands for some reason. And all the hidden identities, ugh, and the new ones, a little bitch of a supreme leader who might make you laugh when you’re not supposed to because of how whiny he is. Talk about daddy issues. And strong females. I don’t think people give Princess Leia enough credit, but she’s one badass leader and, frankly, the glue that holds everyone together.”
I stare at her blankly. “Sassy droids?”
“Ugh,” she groans. “You’re killing me, Rowan. Why are you like this?”
“Just to annoy you.”
“Clearly.” She tosses her hands in the air. “Well, you’re going to have to watch them with me.”
“Don’t be that person.”
“Oh, I’m going to be that person, and I’m not even sorry about it, because for every movie you watch, I’ll bounce up and down on your lap.”
That makes me laugh out loud. “The way you use your words—I’ve never heard someone express themselves the way you do.”
“I aim to please.” She claps her hands together. “Okay, so when is this movie marathon?”
“How about after we set up the coffee shop and you learn to bake?”
She thinks on it. “I don’t know, I was thinking tonight.”
Fuck no.
“No.”
“No?”
I shake my head. “No. You’re mine tonight.”
“Since we just passed the cottage, I’m assuming we’re going back to your place?”
“You assumed right,” I say, the buildup of the evening driving me to the brink.
Her little touches here and there, the stolen kisses, that dress, the conversation, the teasing—it’s all added up to this phenomenal prospect of what’s to come.
In silence, we drive up to my cottage. I hop out and round the pickup before opening the door for her, anticipation building in my veins. After tea, we walked to Kyle’s ice cream shop, where we both got a cup of white chocolate raspberry ice cream with chocolate fudge on top. The entire drive home, all I could think about was the prospect of tasting the faint flavors of chocolate and raspberries on her lips.
I bring her inside the house and shut the door behind me. “Bedroom,” I say, nodding down the hall.
“Not even going to offer a girl a drink?”
“Want a drink?” I ask quickly.
She shakes her head.
“Then get your sweet arse to the bedroom.”
She takes my hand in hers and leads me to the back, which gives me a moment to appreciate her arse in this dress. Heart shaped and round, it’s perfect. She complained that the dress felt tight thanks to all the shortbread she’s been eating, but I think she looks like a goddamn knockout—and so did every lad who came across her tonight.
I saw the double takes, the way their eyes traveled over her body. And fine, they could look all they wanted, but there was only one Scot she was going home with.
Turning toward me, she goes straight to my shirt, where she starts to undo the buttons.
Wetting my lips, I let her and keep my eyes on hers the entire time. When my shirt is completely undone, she pushes it down my shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. From there, she moves to my jeans, unbuckles them, and unzips the zipper. I push them off along with my shoes and socks and stand in front of her in nothing but a pair of tented boxer briefs.
“Sit,” she commands, and hell, her bossiness is fucking hot. I gladly comply. I sit on the bed as she turns her back to me and gathers her hair to the side. “Unzip me.”
With fucking pleasure.
I reach up and grab the small zipper, letting it glide down her back until I find the end. Slowly, she pushes the dress off her shoulders and shimmies out of it, exposing her matching pale-yellow bra and thong.
Christ, her ass is perfect, but before I can get my hands on it, she turns around and straddles me. Her arms fall to my shoulders as she glides her pelvis against mine.
“Hell, Bonnie.”
Her lips find mine, and they’re hungry, demanding, searching for even more than we had the other night.
She pushes me back against the mattress and leans down, her hair floating to the side, her lips locked on mine as her hips start to slowly grind against mine.
Oh fucking hell.
“God, I love how big you are,” she says against my lips, teasing my mouth open and plunging her tongue inside. There’s a sense of urgency coming off her. Normally, I’d ask to slow down, to live in the goddamn moment, but hell, I’m urgent too.