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He pulled her close. Tamsin closed her eyes, listening to the strong beat of his heart.

She could still smell the ozone scent of magic clinging to his clothes, but beneath that was the warm musk of his skin.

She liked the way he held her, gently but with the confidence of a man who knows his strength.

It opened a well of longing inside Tamsin that had never been filled.

She wanted to be loved without reservation, but more than that she wanted to be accepted for what she was—not just a witch but a woman with a mind of her own.

Gawain had seen both and was still at her side.

How long that would last was uncertain. Maybe only for as long as he needed her. At least until his king was found.

At least for tonight.

That would have to do.

She tilted her head up, finding his mouth. Gawain’s kiss began as a soft, caressing thing, but a wave of desire rose in Tamsin. All at once, tenderness wasn’t enough. Her hands slid upward to lace behind his neck. Gawain made a soft grunt of pleasure.

Slowly, she drew him down until their lips met again.

She opened to him, inviting him to deepen the kiss.

The invitation drew an instant response.

His hands tightened on her, pulling Tamsin into the embrace until she was on tiptoe.

Gawain’s kiss was no mere meeting of lips.

It was a deep, plundering exploration that went on and on until her core began to glow red-hot with need.

“Did you like that?” he murmured, rich amusement shading his words.

“What do you think?” she replied, so close that their breath mingled, the ghost of another kiss.

His hands circled her waist, finding the hem of her shirt.

And then he was touching her skin to skin, the rough heat of his hands stroking upward over her ribs.

Tamsin arched into the sensation, craving it, finding it not quite enough.

She grasped the T-shirt and began to pull it over her head.

Gawain, ever the quick study, slid it off her, letting the cascade of her long hair sweep over her shoulders.

With a slow gesture, he pushed her hair behind her shoulders, his touch lingering on her collarbone.

Then he stepped back enough to admire the view.

His expression was all male pleasure, but there was reverence in it, too.

Tamsin felt the sweep of his gaze like a physical thing.

It left her vulnerable but bold, as if he’d granted her some of his warrior’s spirit.

She moved to step into his arms again, but he raised his fingers to the lace of her bra, the light caress stopping her.

He ran his fingers over the arch of her breast, his eyes intent with fascination.

“I have seen pictures of these garments, but they do not do justice to reality.”

It would have been easy to deflect the compliment with a smart remark, but for once Tamsin held her tongue. There was nothing mocking in Gawain’s manner. He made her feel worthy of being adored in a way no man had ever done before.

“But how do you remove this infernal temptation?” he muttered. Tamsin unhooked the front. Gawain caught her hands. “Please allow me.”

She did, and he unwrapped her like a present. The bra hit the floor with the barest whisper of fabric, and Gawain’s hands instantly caressed her. Tamsin’s breath hissed inward, her mind briefly short-circuited with sensation.

“Not fair,” she complained. “You’re still dressed.”

Gawain pulled off his shirt. The low light showed every dip and valley of his torso and softened the silver tracery of long-healed wounds.

Tamsin stroked her hands over his muscles, unable to resist petting him as she might a cat.

Everything about Gawain’s body demanded to be touched.

He gave a growl that might have been a purr.

“Come here,” he commanded, lifting her as if she were no more than a child.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, gasping as he caught one nipple in his teeth.

It was the lightest nip, but her body was so aroused that the sudden flame it created struck all the way to her core.

Gawain chuckled, a low, male sound that had her squirming against him.

In three strides, they were at the bed and she slipped from him, taking her time as she slid her body down the front of his jeans.

It was his turn to make a quick, hissing inhalation.

Tamsin pressed her lips to his chest, kissing slowly down and down, lingering on a jagged white scar that cut across his abdomen.

Gawain’s muscles tensed beneath her lips, but he made no move to stop her.

When she finally reached the button of his jeans, she unfastened it with care, leaving a kiss on the warm flesh of his stomach. Then she grasped the tab of his zipper.

“Be careful,” he said in a voice so low and husky it was nearly a growl. “Your touch will finish this before we begin.”

Gawain’s gaze locked with hers, a warning and a dare simmering in its blue depths.

Tamsin caught her breath as he closed his fingers around hers and drew the zipper slowly downward.

The briefs he wore barely contained the fullness of his erection.

He said something, but she didn’t hear it through the pounding of her pulse.

She ignored the bed and slowly sank to her knees, peeling his briefs and jeans down inch by inch and pressing her lips to the skin she unveiled.

She caressed the taut flesh of his thighs, enjoying the curve and play of thick muscle.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Taking my time,” she said primly, now scraping her nails lightly over his most sensitive flesh. “Playing.”

“Shredding my sanity.”

“Pleasure is a journey, not a destination,” Tamsin replied, blowing lightly on his heated skin. An impish impulse pushed her to tease him. “You should learn to relax.”

Gawain cursed and pulled away, the movement so sudden Tamsin jumped. “I’m not a tiger whose tail you can tweak.”

“No?” The imp was still in charge, refusing to let her give in.

Silent, Gawain stripped off the rest of his clothes as Tamsin got to her feet. When she next looked up, he was entirely naked. Her first thought was that he was shockingly beautiful, a sculpture come to life. Then she saw the hungry look in his eyes and nearly quailed.

“Tigers aren’t careful,” he said.

Tamsin sat on the bed, her knees too weak for anything else.

There was rather a lot of Gawain, the sheer virility of him leaving her solemn.

Every witch knew spells for moments like this, magic that protected both partners in every physical way—but there was more at stake here than just her body.

Gawain would not be a pleasant tumble that she could fit into the rest of her life.

This was going to be a game changer, demanding body and spirit both. Maybe she had rushed things.

“Come here,” he commanded, putting an end to her doubts.

He pushed her down onto the quilt, crawling after her with flowing grace until his arms and legs trapped her in a cage of hard, eager flesh.

Tamsin’s heart was pounding, desire mixed with apprehension.

He kissed her then, chasing her thoughts away like startled birds.

Tamsin surrendered to the heat of it, riding a wave of lust that threatened to reduce her to ash.

He smelled so good, so male she wanted to drink him in through her pores.

She ran her hands down his ribs, reveling in the feel of bone and skin and sinew.

Scars chased each other like lightning across his flesh, some pink and new, some white with long healing.

His was a body that had been well used, and judging by the hard ridge pressed against her stomach, he wanted to use her.

Gawain fisted his hands in her hair as he licked and sucked at her breasts.

Tamsin arched into it, hot breath and wetness sparking a blaze deep in her belly.

He wasn’t tentative or particularly gentle, the demands of his lips and teeth one step away from pain.

She traced her fingers over the bunched muscles of his shoulders, down his back.

Nothing had prepared her for this experience.

Her last remaining particle of reason said she was looking for a landmark, a handhold, something to anchor herself in this storm.

But Gawain never gave her a chance. She had invited him inside her walls, and now he was laying siege against her every defense.

He released her nipple, leaving it erect, aching, and glistening from his suckling kiss.

Tamsin shivered as he turned his attention to her collarbone, his lips transforming it into an erogenous zone she didn’t know existed.

She reached down, finding the thickness of his shaft.

He shifted so that she could get a better grip, let her stoke the smooth length of him.

“Are you pleased with me?” he asked in a low, husky voice.

Tamsin groaned as his teeth grazed her throat. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

“I want to dictate the terms of your surrender, my lady.”

“You want a white flag?”

“I want utter mastery. I give no quarter.”

Despite her protest, he moved out of her reach.

His fingers slid into the slickness of her cleft, massaging her in slow, tight circles.

Tamsin sucked in her breath, catching her lip between her teeth to stifle any noise he might take as a sign of her defeat.

She wasn’t giving up that quickly, not when she had barely mounted an assault of her own.

But her traitorous body rose and angled itself to meet Gawain, giving him entry as he stroked and probed, finding her point of pleasure.

A wild spiral of sensation coursed through her, making her forget anything but her need for more and more of Gawain’s expert touch.

He took her to the abyss, led her right up to the edge, and then pulled her back from the brink.

Tamsin cried out, but from abject frustration.

“What are you doing?” She twisted under him, desperate for resistance, for something to ease her ache.

“Taking you.” Angling his hips, he slid into her.

Tamsin all but came at that single, hard thrust. Places she’d almost forgotten stretched wide, welcoming the invasion.

Her vision went black, her mind a kaleidoscope of sensation.

Gawain pulled back with exquisite slowness, making it feel as if she was turning inside out in the most delicious way possible, and then drove home again.

Tamsin arched, hips rising to meet him. Tears slid from beneath her lids, her emotions roiling from sheer sensory overload.

She crushed the quilt in her fingers, digging for purchase, but that wasn’t enough. She grabbed his shoulders, sinking her nails into flesh. He laughed as she raked him, leaving pink furrows behind. He pushed, and pushed again. Tamsin moaned.

“Surrender, witch,” he whispered, grabbing her hips and driving home to find her point of pleasure.

Tamsin’s entire body tightened, throbs of pleasure radiating through her.

At that moment, Gawain’s control slipped and he abandoned his slow, deliberate rhythm for a wild, hard claiming.

She cried out, a wordless sound of release and defiance.

He took her mouth, silencing her cry as he gave one last, shuddering thrust. He came, hot and wet as the burst of sensation inside Tamsin overwhelmed every other thought. The world ceased.

Tamsin came back to herself some moments after Gawain rolled onto his back, pulling her onto his chest. He was breathing deeply, the steady thunder of his heart echoing the aftershocks of desire in Tamsin’s core.

She feathered her finger over his lips, studying his face.

Even now, lines of tension etched his features.

Gawain never quite let go of his wariness.

Tamsin suddenly wanted to wrest that away from him.

She would stand guard for once, so he could rest.

I might have surrendered this time, Tamsin whispered inside her own mind, but that was only the first skirmish.