Page 3 of Highland Warrior

The man beside her was no dream. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his dark hair curling around a face both rugged and beautiful. His eyes—green as sunlit moss—held her in place. For one wild moment, she couldn’t remember where she was or how she’d come to be in his bed.

“Dinna be afraid, lass,” he said softly. His accent—Highland, unmistakably—rolled through her like music.

“I’m not afraid,” she whispered, though her pulse said otherwise. A smile tugged at her lips. “At least, I don’t think I am.”

The corners of his mouth curved. “A brave one, then.”

He reached to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed her cheek, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Natalie’s breath caught. The air between them thickened until it seemed to hum.

She should pull away. She should ask a hundred questions. Instead, her heart lurched in her chest as his gaze dropped to her mouth.

When he kissed her, it wasn’t demanding. It was a question—an ancient one, older than time itself. Her lips parted in answer. The taste of him was smoky and sweet, like whisky and warmth. Her hand rose of its own accord, tracing the solid line of his jaw, the pulse that beat furiously beneath her fingertips.

Her pulse thudded in her ears. Whatever magic had carried her here, it had brought her straight into the arms of a devilishly handsome man.

She flashed a smile and was rewarded with a wink and a wolfish grin from the sexy stud.

Natalie glanced about the room, sighing in contentment. An avid history buff and Gaelic instructor, this was her dream. She didn’t think she could have imagined it any better.

“A saucy lady, eh?” He leaned down to nibble along her chin.

“Only for you,” she teased, gliding her hands along his arms, massaging his shoulders.

“Aye, only for me.”

His lips descended on her mouth again, claiming her, his tongue delving in and rubbing against hers. Tendrils of yearning curled their way around her insides. His hands slid down the length of her taut abdomen and caressed the curve of her hip. She swayed her hips closer, urging him to continue with his exploration.

“Ye’re so tiny, my wee vixen,” he mumbled as his mouth traveled from hers to taste her neck.

His breath was hot against her skin, so real, so genuine. Was it possible she wasn’t fantasizing? Reality trembled. This couldn’t be happening. But the feel of him, the heat of his body, the rough rasp of his stubble were all achingly real.

He tugged her closer. Natalie moaned and nipped at his neck, letting her hands probe the muscles of his back and chest.

“What’s your name?” he breathed, his lips lowering to capture a taut nipple. He suckled gently, then harder.

What was her name? He was taking away all rational notions from her mind. “Natalie,” she moaned.

“Natalie. Verra pretty.”

His mouth maneuvered lower, caressing her stomach, his tongue dipping and swirling about her navel, then sliding over to nip at her hip. His strong hands slid down the length of her legs and back up again.

“What’s your name?” she whimpered as his fingers slid up her thigh to play with the dewy curls at the crux of her thighs.

“I am Ian MacDuff,” he said, his thumb still stroking her cheek. “And ye, my lady, are a mystery I’ve yet to solve.”

Natalie moaned, arching her back and bucking her hips forward. The feel was so tangible, incredible… His touch was sure and searching, his body pressed to hers in a rhythm that stole her breath. When he kissed her, it felt as though the world tilted and every inch of her body sang with pleasure.

“Ye want me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. His titillating words inflamed her senses.

“Oh, yes,” she managed, sliding her hands down the rippling muscles of his abdomen.

An eight-pack. This hot Highlander didn’t just have a six-pack. Her fingers played over the muscled ‘V’ of his pelvis until they brushed lower toward his rigid staff. So big...Natalie’s fingers encircled him—not even coming close to meeting around his width.

Ian groaned deep in his throat, his kiss becoming more possessive, demanding. Without warning, an orgasm rocked her. Wave after wave of supple warmth coursed through her as she cried out in pleasure.

Oh, God, he’s talented....

“How much do ye want me?”