Highlander Unchained by Monica McCarty

swept over her.
    She wanted to order him to leave, but her words strangled in her throat. For a moment she’d passed into a dream realm, where nothing seemed real.
    “God, you’re beautiful.” His voice was deep and ragged. It wasn’t the most poetic compliment she’d ever received, but it pleased her more than any that had come before. And it was the only one that had made her body tingle and then hum with awareness.
    His eyes darkened, and the muscle in his jaw began to twitch. She felt a prickle of alarm, realizing he was holding himself by a very thin thread. No man had ever looked at her like this. Hungry. Starving. As if she were a succulent dish and he’d like nothing better than to gobble her up.
    “Get out,” she finally managed, though her voice shook. “You don’t belong here. This is my room.” My sanctuary. And he was invading it, making it his. Leaving her nowhere to hide. “You must leave.” Her voice rose in panic. “Now!”
     
    Lachlan’s mouth went dry. He’d lost the ability of rational thought. Leave? He couldn’t move his feet, even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t.
    The body he’d fantasized about had been revealed in full naked splendor. Or as good as naked, with the little that swath of linen did to hide her from his gaze. Her skin was creamy perfection. She was lean and soft in all the right places. Her breasts rose full and high above a tiny waist and curvy hips. Her legs were long and slim, with gently defined muscles. He could even see the peak of her pale pink nipples. Small and tight and begging for his kiss.
    And before she’d turned…
    He’d been mesmerized by the long golden tendrils of damp hair tumbling down her back. He’d wanted to use his tongue to catch the rivulets of water that slid down the sleek curve of her spine to the soft swell of her perfectly round bottom. A bottom that would nestle against his groin perfectly as he slid into her from behind.
    He couldn’t tear his gaze from her.
    The response of his body was visceral, a primal urge so intense it made every muscle in his body clench with restraint. His hands were fisted into tight balls at his side, his shoulders tensed, and sweat gathered on his brow. He was pulled as tight as a bow, ready to spring.
    First the kiss, now this torture. His control had never been put to such a test. Made all the worse because he knew she was his.
    In one swift motion, he could remove the cloth and put his hands on all that creamy soft skin. Bury his face between her heavy round breasts and slide his tongue over the soft peak of her nipple until it tightened in his mouth.
    He wanted to run his tongue down the flat plane of her stomach, put his hands on that soft round bottom, and sink his head between her legs. Tasting the very essence of her. Licking and sucking until she exploded against him in helpless abandon. Aye, he wanted her helpless. Helpless for anything but him.
    “Please,” she repeated. “Go.”
    He didn’t answer, but dropped the box that he’d been carrying and took a step toward her.
    She took a step back, but with her back to the window, there was nowhere to go.
    She eyed him warily. For the first time, he saw uncertainty in her gaze.
    The air was thick and heavy between them, his desire almost palpable, but she was shivering from cold and was still wet from her bath. He thought of how hot he could make her. And how much wetter. Instinctively, he reached out.
    He heard her sharp intake of breath as his fingers trailed down the smooth expanse of her throat, over her collarbone, to the lush swell of her breast. With the back of his finger he outlined the heavy curve of her breast. Her nipple hardened, and he felt a surge of blood to his loins so strong, he nearly jerked.
    Mine. The voice was loud and clear as a wave of possessiveness gripped him hard.
    Her cheeks flooded with heat. He’d embarrassed her. He could see the confusion in her gaze. She didn’t know what was happening to her body. He