Page 21 of Enchanted Warrior

Tamsin threw off the covers, rising to her hands and knees, then looked down at herself, clearly noting that she was still dressed. “You held me.” She looked up, her dark eyes somber. “That’s all you did.”

“I hope from now on you will think better of me,” Gawain replied quietly.

She cleared her throat, a small, nervous sound. “Thank you.”

“What happened to you?”

“Give me a minute,” she said, her expression so vulnerable it made his chest hurt.

The physical pull of her swamped Gawain’s reason. He’d lain next to her for hours, and so much contact had wound him to a painful pitch. Still, he read the awkward uncertainty in her eyes. “Do you want me to go?”

She shook her head. “I’m not ready to be alone yet.”

“Then I would like to kiss you,” he said, drowning in the heat still trapped between their bodies. He had held himself in iron restraint, but his discipline was spent.

Tamsin gave a startled jerk. “What?”

“I want to kiss you,” he repeated.

“Oh.” She hesitated so long he was certain she would push away. But then she gave a slow blink that changed the knot in his gut to a liquid heat lower down. “If you’re sure you want to.” The statement was half a tease, but there was a painful honesty in it, too.

“I am.” He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I can think of nothing more pleasant right now.”

She sank down onto one hip, her mouth curving into a bemused smile. “Really?”

Her expression was shy, but she tilted her mouth up to his, inviting him. It was something Gawain had never expected after she’d thrown him out just last night, and he wasted no time. He had kissed his share of maids, and more, but this was different. Maybe it was because his nerves were raw after nearly losing her, or he was far too lonely, but he was utterly without defense.

The press of her soft lips was warm, filled with the lingering essence of woman and magic. And the spice did not end with her taste—it was in who she was. Her teeth nipped at his lower lip, inviting him to explore. He didn’t need prompting. As her lips parted, he made a conquest of her sweet, silky mouth. Tamsin moaned slightly, the note of hunger urging him on.

Once permission had been granted, he pushed forward, savoring everything she gave. The first spark of passion had been physical, the effect of her beauty and the closeness of their bodies for so many hours. But beyond that was her courage, and the sheer will that had made her survive. Few came back from losing their way in a vision. He had to respect her strength.

Gawain rolled to his knees, pulling her up with him. His fingers tangled in her long, sun-bright hair. He loved the thick, shining wealth of it. Wanted it against every inch of his skin.

The movement had broken their kiss, but still their breath mingled. Tamsin was panting, eyes hazed and lips swollen. Gawain held her gently, not sure of her yet, not certain what pleased her. She was a puzzle he was determined to solve, but he would do it the right way.

“More?” he asked.

“More,” she whispered, a bare movement of air shaped by that lovely mouth. At the same time, her hands were stroking the muscles of his abdomen.

Gawain groaned. His body ached with need as he traced the edge of Tamsin’s collar with his fingertip. The blouse was prim and tempting at once, and his fingers found their way to the top button that sat at the notch of her collarbone. They were small buttons for his big fingers, but determination was a powerful thing. The softness beneath was a more than adequate reward. There was a delicate undergarment beneath and he bent, pressing his lips to the curve of lace cradling her breast. He slid his hands down, cupping her backside, ready to sink into her.

Ready to give in to an attraction that broke every one of his rules. Tamsin was a witch, and they were all but strangers. The aftermath of magic had them in its thrall.

A flicker of caution broke through the haze of arousal. When he raised his eyes to Tamsin’s, he saw the same hesitation in her eyes. They had come a long way toward mutual trust, but they were not there yet. Gawain snapped his mouth shut before he unleashed a dragon of a curse. To take her now would be the act of a wastrel.

He released her, sliding off the bed and grabbing his shirt. Tamsin watched his retreat with startled eyes that quickly darkened to hurt. “Did you suddenly remember I’m a witch?”

That caught him off balance. He wanted her to the point of painful frustration. “That is not my concern at the moment.”

“Then what is?” She sank down on the bed, her hands folded between her knees like a child.

Gawain went still, not sure how to frame what he needed to say. “You were in trouble. I held you. If I make love to you now, you will regret it after. Gratitude only goes so far.”

Tamsin’s cheeks colored. Her jaw set in a way that said he’d struck close to the quick. “Maybe you’re right.”

“It happens after a battle. Danger makes us crave intimacy.” He pulled the shirt over his head, ignoring the pang of disappointment hollowing his chest. “Did you see the tombs?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.”

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