Lord of the Highlands by Veronica Wolff

thingy tied in the front”—hooking a thumb at the top, she gave a little tug to her stays—“I think I did it right.” It was a ridiculously tight contraption, but she had to wear something, and this was all the shopkeeper had left behind for her.
    Still, she thought her breasts were going to pop up and out at any moment.
    “Are you there?”—she twisted to make sure Rollo hadn’t disappeared—“ugh, does this need to be so tight?”
    He was staring at her with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw.
    “I just need you to button me. I can’t reach up the back.”
    He didn’t budge. He could make this a little easier. Felicity raised her brows. “Please?”
    He gave a curt nod.
    Is he angry or something?
    “Sorry.” She shrugged. “I tried to . . .”
    “No apologies, lass.” Rollo’s voice was ragged. His eyes grazed her bared shoulders. He cleared his throat.
    The tense silence was unbearable. She shrugged again.
    “Be still.”
    “Oh, sorry. I mean . . . Sorry I was sorry.” She scrunched her face, happy her back was to him. She tried to stand as still as possible. “Okay, I’ll just shut up.”
    Felicity sensed Rollo placing his cane down. She heard his shuffle at her back. Felt his approach. Heard his breath, suddenly close at her ear.
    She shivered, and felt her skin pebble tight.
    Why was he just standing there?
    She fought the urge to apologize again, just to fill the silence. Could this really be her Viking? He sure was a serious one.
    Why wasn’t he buttoning—?
    His hands skimmed along her back. The silk of her dress under his fingertips made a muted shushing sound.
    Oh. A breath escaped her, and she clamped her lips between her teeth.
    Rollo’s fingers went to her waist, tugging the fabric together, securing the first button.
    The room was suddenly unbearably hot.
    “Are . . . are you sure this dress will fit me?”
    “Aye.” His voice had a steely, sharp edge. She felt his breath on her neck. He did the next button. And then the next.
    His fingers found a rhythm. Dip beneath the fabric, pull gently, flick the button through. Dip, pull, flick. She felt the warmth of his fingers through the linen of her corset all the while.
    “Thanks,” she managed. Heat rippled beneath the surface of her skin, suffusing her body. “I . . .”
    He was almost done. She didn’t want him to be done. She’d thought the stays were tight, but the dress snugged her even more, and it was the most erotic sensation she’d ever experienced. The feel of her breasts pressed tight, rubbing up against so much stiff fabric.
    She glanced down. Her breasts were two pale, perfect mounds above the rose-colored silk.
    She hoped her nipples didn’t pop out.
    But it looked pretty hot.
    Oh, wow.
    She hadn’t realized her breasts could do that.
    He froze behind her.
    He was done.
    She blushed. He hadn’t even seen the front of the dress yet, but still the anticipation of it made her blush.
    She turned slowly and his gaze was waiting for her. Simmering, and deadly serious.
    Rollo ran his eyes down the length of her, pausing at her breasts.
    She struggled to inhale.
    He ran his eyes back up.
    And this time she saw something raw there. Those hazel eyes, the color of chocolate in the dimly lit room, stared at her. Didn’t budge from her.
    Wanting him overwhelmed her. She leaned closer, taking him in. Taking in his gorgeous face, that thick, wavy brown hair. That perfect mouth.
    So damned handsome.
    She leaned closer.
    He didn’t move, and her heart thrilled with it.
    Her Viking. She’d kiss her Viking now.
    Closer.
    His lips parted. She trembled, getting closer.
    She brought her hand to his chest. Rested her palm lightly on him. She felt his muscles tense, so tight and hard beneath his waistcoat.
    She was mesmerized. Those eyes of his, with just a little bit of gold that she could see now, up close.
    Lean down, Will.
    Why wasn’t he leaning down? She had the bodice on, now it was time for her Viking to rip it from