Page 31 of Enchanted Warrior

Tamsin was lying on her bed, the lamp shining on a book she was too weary to read. She’d showered and changed into an oversize T-shirt, letting fatigue creep over her. But now she sat up, Gawain’s presence alarming and enticing. All at once, she wasn’t tired. “Is Beaumains asleep?”

“As sweetly as a babe.”

Tamsin smiled at the image. “Good.”

“If his experience is like mine, he will rest until late tomorrow morning. After being trapped by magic, the body craves a normal rest above all else.” Gawain stopped in the middle of the room, a shadowed figure just outside the pool of light. “You are a special woman, Tamsin.”

The tone of his voice struck a spark inside her. Suddenly she was too awake to remain in bed. She rose and crossed the floor between them in a few steps. Hesitantly, she placed her palms against his chest. “I know that spell probably pinged on Mordred’s radar, but I’m glad I did it.”

His blue eyes danced with a happiness she hadn’t seen in him before. Gently, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Tamsin released a sigh and leaned closer, resting her cheek against his chest. The fabric of his T-shirt was comfortably soft, but the muscles beneath spoke of hard strength. “Is that why you came back to my room tonight? To tell me your brother is asleep?”

“No.” He curled one hand around her nape, cradling her head against him. “I came to ask if you want me to stay here for a while.”

“Aren’t you forgetting what I am?”

“No.” He held her gaze, his fingers tracing the tattoo about her wrist. “I know your powers. I do not trust them or your kind. But I am coming to trust you.”

She could have argued, but it was a giant step for him. “Then stay.”

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.

---