Page 108 of Cowboy Bull's Promise

I hang up and lift my gaze just as a familiar rumble pulls into the drive beside me.

Kian.

And hot damn, but it hits me all over again.

The truck.

The broad shoulders behind the wheel.

That golden hair ruffled from the wind, those heavy-lidded eyes that see right through me.

I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.

But it’s more than a smile.

It’s craving.

Need so sharp it punches through my chest and pools hot between my thighs.

I feel my panties dampen with instant, undeniable want, and my nipples pebble behind my bra like they know he’s near.

My sex clenches, aching for him, for the thick, perfect pressure of his body filling mine until we both forget our names.

Before I even know I’m moving, I’m out of the car and running, the gravel forgotten beneath my feet.

I leap into his arms, heart hammering, legs wrapping around his waist like they remember where they belong.

“Kian,” I moan into his mouth, slamming my lips to his, tasting the salt and musk of him, devouring him like he’s air and I’ve been suffocating all day.

He groans, hands gripping my ass tight, grinding me against him—and oh fuck, I feel it.

His cock is already thick and hard, pressing right against the center of my throbbing heat.

“Goddamn. Fuck. I don’t know what I did to deserve this greeting, but I am sure happy to see you too, Mo Chroí,” he rasps, kissing down my neck as I dig my fingers into his hair.

“You were born,” I whisper, breathless. “And then you picked me.”

“That’s it, huh? Well, lucky me,” he growls, low and reverent, and before I can blink, he’s carrying me up the steps and kicking open the cabin door.

We crash inside in a flurry of limbs and gasps, the wood creaking under us like it knows what’s coming.

I try to speak, but my breath catches as he sets me down and presses me up against the wall, one hand already dragging my jeans down my hips, the other cupping my breast through my shirt.

“Kian, I have to go in to the bar in?—”

“What? Why?”

“Bob asked me for a favor.”

“I see. Well, then I better make this nice and quick,” he says, voice gone deep and feral, pupils blown wide as he drops to his knees in front of me.

“So fucking wet for me, aren’t you?” He looks up, face full of worship and heat.

I nod because, yes, I am. Wet and ready for him. Always.

“You been walking around like this all day?”

I whimper.

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