Merlin reached up to run the collar of Luna's robe through his hands, then grasp it and draw her close. She smelled clean and fresh, Peitho's perfume washed away, and he kissed her throat, bringing his hands down to her bare hips under the robe. "Leave the robe on when you ride me," he growled against her skin, abandoning the pretense somewhat as he undid the fly of his trousers, "and you can have whatever grade you want."