Master of Smoke

her ribs. Gasping, Eva went still, letting her body adjust to being so very, very full.
    His eyes were wide and intensely blue. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who felt a little stunned.
    Slowly, carefully, she lifted off him until only the broad head remained inside her, then slid down again, bracing her hands on his shoulders as she rode.
    The sun was sinking into the ocean, flinging veils of scarlet across the darkening sky. Its light painted his handsome face and powerful body in reddening gold. His hair spilled across his pillow like a black silk. She reached down and pushed an inky strand out of his face so she could look into those amazing eyes of his. They burned with a blue light of their own, glowing softly with magic and masculinity. “Beautiful man,” she whispered. “You are such a beautiful man.”
    “Not as beautiful as you.” David watched her riding him in those slow, careful strokes, loving the way she felt gripping him, loving the way her eyes had gone so dark and dazed. Her sex felt slick, tight as wet silk knotted around his shaft. Her thighs stroked his ribs as her breasts bounced gently in his palms, impossibly soft as he squeezed her hard little nipples.
    But her mouth was too damned far away.
    He sat up so he could reach her lips. She tasted of his body tinged with that sweet, feral femininity that was solely hers. Eva stopped thrusting as if to concentrate on the kiss, and he lifted one hand to rake a fistful of her silken mane. Her delicate fingertips found the line of his jaw, slid up to trace the points of his ears, then the thick arch of his brows. Her tongue circled his, slipped into his mouth only to retreat again with his in pursuit. Licking and suckling, they nibbled each other and began a slow, hypnotized rolling of hip against hip. Pleasure heated and flowed like a warm, creamy spring.
    Sweet, sweet. Gods, so sweet.
    He felt her fine inner muscles begin to clench and release. He opened his eyes—he hadn’t even known he’d closed them—because he wanted to watch her come.
    Eva cried out, her head rolling back, the last light of the sun pouring red gold across her face, gilding delicate bones and the long black fans of her lashes. She opened her dark eyes, and the intoxicated joy in them tripped him right into orgasm.
    The first hot pulse hit him like a spur digging into a stallion’s ribs, and he arched, driving his cock deep, grinding in a hard, rolling circle that made her gasp.
    He watched her tumble into another climax—or maybe the first one hadn’t ended—and she threw back her head and screamed, a raw cry of passion as the sun drowned itself in the sea. His hoarse shout rose like an echo, and his arms wrapped hard around her back and pulled her down with him.
    Eva floated in the honeyed aftermath, listening to the surf and the wind, feeling his chest rise and fall in deep gasps under her cheek. The sea tugged at the lace curtains, and they belled from the wind as the tide crept up to swirl around the bed’s brass legs. A chill rose over her, and she cuddled deeper into David’s warmth.
    “It feels so good to be here with you,” she told him sleepily. “It feels so ... right. So perfect.” In fact, it had never been this perfect with any man, ever. It was almost frightening, but she felt too damn good to worry about it.
    He kissed her forehead. “Good. It feels wonderful to me, too.”
    She shivered as the wind blew over her bare back. “Maybe it’s time to go in. It’s getting a little late.” Which probably made it dawn at the Pendragon house. “Mom and Dad are going to wonder where we are.”
    He gave her an amused look. “Can’t have that.”
    She glowered. “Don’t smirk. No, I don’t have a curfew. Daddy just worries.”
    “I don’t blame him.” She felt his magic rise, and a moment later they were both dressed in jeans and longsleeved shirts. The fabric felt warm, as though fresh from the dryer. More of David’s thoughtful magic.
    “Need a coat, too?” he asked her, giving her an appraising look.
    “Nope, this is good.” Eva rolled off the bed, splashing into the seawater that swirled around it. As her running shoes were instantly soaked, she grimaced and bounded up onto the beach. David loped after her, and she looked back to watch him just as the bed faded away like a dream.
    A very sweet dream.
    He caught her hand as they started up the beach. Her shoes squelched, and she wrinkled her nose. “I hate wet sneakers.”
    He