—LADY GUINEVERE 4 Oh, God. Rion was about to kiss her. She could see the hunger in his gray eyes. The tension in his neck that held him rock steady. Was she going to kiss him? It wasn’t every day that Marisa could have all that male sizzle wrapped around her. Hell, she wasn’t dead—and that’s what she’d have to be, not to appreciate Rion’s attractiveness, or the power in his ripped muscles. But what really drew her in was the purposefulness beneath the suave charm. Rion was a doer. Passionate about his cause and his people. She raised her gaze from his long, calloused fingers to his shoulders that were as broad as the English Channel, to his fascinating lips, to his bold gray eyes. Eyes that seemed to pierce straight to her core. “Kiss me,” he demanded, his voice a sexy rumble. There was nothing safe about his request. Nothing safe about the way she felt, all jumbled raw nerves, all excited and eager to take a risk.
