Master of Swords by Angela Knight Page A

fear.
    And God, she needed that.
    â€œGawain,” she said softly, rising to her feet.
    He didn’t turn around. “What?”
    â€œYou’re not the only one who’s hungry.” She untied her gi belt.
    Gawain glanced over his shoulder at her just as she let the jacket slide off her shoulders. He turned completely as she pulled off the loose shirt that lay under it, then dropped the silken trousers. The way his eyes blazed as he watched made her feel like the hottest thing since Carmen Electra. He swallowed. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
    Lark smiled slightly, knowing her arousal must be perfuming her scent. “Take a deep breath,” she suggested, “and you tell me.”
    He inhaled, and his eyes widened. “Oh, you’re sure.”
    â€œI always did like mammal females,” Kel said from the sawdust. “You’re all so soft and warm.” He sighed gustily. “Ah, well. I suppose this is my cue to sleep.”
    â€œThat might be best,” Gawain agreed without looking away from Lark’s nudity. His voice sounded gratifyingly hoarse.
    With a last longing look at her, Kel dropped his muzzle and closed his ruby eyes the instant before his body stiffened.
    Even as Kel went to sleep, Gawain was stripping off his pants.
    If anything, the knight was even more impressive without the armor. She blinked, taking in the sculpted beauty of his broad torso, the long powerful legs, the brawny arms. His skin retained a tan that must date back sixteen centuries, when he’d first drunk from Merlin’s Grail and become immortal. The brown tone contrasted with the pale gold of the chest hair that formed a tree-of-life pattern over his muscular pecs. The pattern narrowed as it flowed down to his groin, as if mapping the way to treasure.
    He was fully, deliciously erect, his staff thick and jutting over a pair of full, taut balls.
    And she was just as ready for him.

FIVE
    Lark ached to touch that luscious erection, but she didn’t want to rush the moment. Instead, she reached out and brushed her fingertips across his ruff of chest hair. It felt intriguingly springy, yet surprisingly soft.
    As she moved her hand, her thumb brushed a tiny dark nipple. The little point tightened, and Gawain made a low, sensual sound in his throat.
    Lark looked up at him, enjoying the slow, sweet burn of arousal. After teasing each other for so many hours, touching him was such a sweet relief.
    â€œThat was nice,” he told her. His lids lowered, shielding the bright green of his gaze even as his lips parted, revealing the points of his fangs.
    An image of the sorcerer’s bloody mouth flashed through her mind. She froze.
    Gawain’s gentle hand caught hers. “Don’t think about that bastard. He’s dead. And if he wasn’t, I’d kill him for you.” His gaze searched hers, demanding her belief. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do.”
    â€œThat’s fine,” she told him steadily. “Because I want you to do everything.”
    Intent on proving just that, Lark rose on her toes, threaded her fingers through his long hair, and drew his head down. His mouth opened under hers, lips like damp satin, flavored with masculinity, rough and wild.
    She put everything she had into the kiss, with gentle bites of his lips and slow, swirling thrusts of her tongue. He kissed her back, his big hands sliding down to cup her bare backside and lift her against his muscular belly. She caught his brawny shoulders to steady herself, leaning into him, enjoying the hard strength of his body. His cock pressed along the length of her belly, hungry and thick with his need.
    Gawain lifted his head just a moment, meeting her gaze. His lips were damp, his green eyes hot. Then his mouth swooped down again.
    This time he didn’t let her take the lead. The kiss was all feral male demand, so hot and seductive, Lark melted