One of his hands released her head, and he brushed down the side of her arm, sliding up beneath the too-large T-shirt covering her. His palm, scalding hot, climbed her ribs, one by one, and settled on her bare breast.

She gasped and arched against him, her head going back on the pillow, her muscles tensing and her heart rate accelerating from zero to OMG in a second. This was actually happening. While she’d always been small-chested and a little self-conscious, all uncertainty sailed out of her head as he palmed her, gently squeezing her nipple between the base of two fingers.

The design on his hand, the one he’d marked her with, felt hot against her skin.

Air wheezed through her chest and she tried to breathe without panting. It had been at least five years, probably a lot more, since anybody had touched her, and this was exquisite. He moved to the other breast, his hand getting caught in the material of the shirt. Swearing, he reached down and ripped the material over her head, his head dropping at the same time and his mouth capturing her other nipple.

Electricity arced through her, and she bit her lip, her panties becoming wet and her hands frantic across his chest and down his abs, her fingers dipping into each ribbed muscle. She pulled his shirt up, making him duck, and then tossed it behind her. Everything was happening so fast, but she didn’t want to stop. Or think.

His chest was amazing. Hard and angled, strong and powerful. His abs were a twelve-pack, each hard edge clearly defined as if somebody had drawn him. A tattoo she couldn’t make out covered his left pec entirely.

He released her nipple and turned to place a soft kiss on the other one before looking up at her, his gaze a silvery black, his nostrils flared, and crimson darkening his rugged cheekbones. The warrior in him, the Highlander he’d always be, was in full force and on display.

She could see him. The real him.

“We can’t do this.” His brogue was a low rumble that caressed her aching nipples.

“I know,” she breathed, digging her nails into his skin. “It’s a huge mistake.”

He kissed between her breasts. “Just one taste, Grace. That’s all I ask.”

The words didn’t compute. “I don’t—”

He slid her panties down with one finger, following with his mouth, kissing each hipbone and palming her thigh. Need and want and lust and every other feeling that was possible assaulted her, rioting through every nerve with a demand she couldn’t fight.

He rubbed his five o’clock shadow across her tender thighs, stirring her desire hotter. He lifted up, his eyes pure silver. “Tell me I can have one taste.”