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He kissed her slowly, letting his lips linger over hers so that their breath commingled, warmth against warmth. “What sort of magic do you think we can make together?” she asked.

His grin was suddenly sharp with mischief. It was an expression Tamsin hadn’t seen before, and it made her insides tighten with anticipation. He took her hand, kissing the tip of each finger in a way that made her squirm with pleasure. Who knew such a simple sensation could travel so deep into her core?

Then his lips found her wrist, his tongue darting to mark the fine veins beneath her skin. The brush of his cheek was rough as he worked his way upward, nibbling the crease of her elbow, then the curve of her shoulder. Gawain devoured every inch of her, leaving nothing without savoring its delights. He understood what it was to claim a woman.

Tamsin shifted, leaving a kiss on his chest as she rolled him onto his back. Indulgent, Gawain complied, even lifting her so that she straddled him more easily.

“Let me,” she said, brushing his sex with hers. Already stiff, it hardened yet more at her touch, weeping as she swept across the engorged tip. Gawain grabbed her hips, holding her still. Tamsin settled, positioning herself to sink, inch by languorous inch, until she was stretched wide and full.

Gawain reached up, cupping her breasts. His eyes were slits, the blue veiled by thick lashes until the color was lost in smoky shadow. Tamsin rocked slowly so she could lean into his touch. His neck muscles corded, throat working as he controlled his response. From above, she could trace the angles of his face with her gaze. She felt a lost, desperate tenderness for him then, a longing to be with him in every sense of the word.

His fingers brushed the tips of her breasts, bringing her nipples erect. The sensation made her shiver, and that translated from her body to his. She rocked again, finding a rhythm that matched his kneading hands. The feel of his rough palms was too exquisite, too much, but he gave no quarter, driving her further into madness.

“More,” she said.

“Always.”

He was thrusting, drawing her into a riptide she couldn’t resist. She was caught on a knife’s edge, wanting more, wanting less, rocking deeper to end the driving need for relief. She burned, her skin slick with sweat and the need to have him touch it all. Tamsin grabbed his strong, thick arms, using him to steady her movements. The first pulses of release shot through her, ripping a moan from her throat. Gawain pushed hard, driving her higher until she shuddered, every nerve igniting with pleasure. A moment of blind wonder took her.

And yet it didn’t end there. They rolled in a tangle with her arms locked around his shoulders. Before the pleasure had even faded, Gawain was moving again, thrusting deeper, faster, returning her to ecstasy. She gripped hard, nails scraping skin as she arched against him. One last, strong stroke, and they fell into bliss together.

“Tamsin,” Gawain murmured softly. “Tamsin.”

She couldn’t move for the longest time. Didn’t want to. Her head was cushioned on Gawain’s shoulder. His arm curled around her, pulling her close.

She laced her fingers through his. “That’s the sort of magic we’ll make together.”

“That was just the first line of the spell,” he murmured, and caught her mouth with his. “Every word, every line, every verse will be a declaration of my desire.”

“I heard they call you Silver Tongue.”

“As long as they also call my words true. I am yours to command, Tamsin Greene. Whatever you desire, you shall have it.”

She laced her fingers through his, utterly content. “I want this.”

“Then on my honor, I am yours,” Gawain promised. “Forever.”