“I’m not sure I can stand up,” Mariko said. She was strong, in great physical shape, but Ricco was pushing her right to her limit. Her body had never felt so on fire, soaring, yet the tension building, always building, coiling so hot and deep she thought she might go insane with need.
“Just for a moment. I need to taste you,” Ricco said.
She closed her eyes at the sinful, raw truth in his voice. She waited, holding herself still, her heart pounding so hard she was certain he could hear it. One moment. One breath. Ragged. She was barely able to draw air in.
“Mariko.”
Her name. Velvet soft. Whispering over her like fingers. She looked down at his upturned face. He looked like sin. Like temptation. Like the embodiment of sensuality. For one moment, their eyes met and she was drowning, drowning in him. In her needs. In love for him. She hadn’t known love could be so sharp, so terrible. So perfect or brutal.
His hands gripped her thighs, fingers digging into her flesh, and then he leaned into her and put his mouth over her center. She gasped. It was all she could do. His mouth was hot and wild, his tongue as wicked as his look had promised. Stroking. Flicking. She closed her eyes. The flicking was going to kill her. No, it was the sudden scrape of his teeth. She wanted to move away. She wanted to stay right there. Pleasure radiated through her like a starburst, yet that tension grew and grew until she wanted to scream.
Her head thrashed back and forth. His hands kept her still, but she had lost all ability to think. She could only feel. Deep inside, that tension wound even tighter. A gathering. A coiling. He had to stop. She didn’t want him to ever stop. Secure in his ropes, she was completely at his mercy, and he wasn’t feeling very compassionate. His mouth devoured her and his hands were lethal, fingers, by turns, kneading her buttocks and then dancing up her inner thighs to penetrate deep.
She knew she was chanting his name, but she couldn’t stop, desperate for release. Her hips bucked against his mouth, grinding, trying to force him to take her where she needed to go.
His finger pushed deep, driving through silken folds. “So tight, amore, I have to get you ready.”
Ready? She was already losing her mind. She was totally ready. “Please.” She managed to get that one word out.
He didn’t hesitate; once more his mouth was there, decisive, invasive, so perfect, sending streaks of flames racing through her, so the firestorm exploded, radiating scorching heat through her body. Her mind seemed to break free, taking her somewhere she’d never been, so that for a few moments there was only pleasure surrounding her. She floated in it, that fiery, star-laden place she’d never been but wanted to stay in–with him. Ricco.
She blinked, became aware that his hands were rubbing her bottom gently, smoothing down her thighs, and he was once again on his feet, holding her, surrounding her with his arms. She found herself smiling at him. “That was–extraordinary.”
“The beginning,” he corrected. “Dio, amore, you taste delicious. I could eat you up.”
“I want to touch you,” she admitted. “I need to touch you.”
He leaned in to kiss her. She tasted herself on his tongue and it was more erotic than she thought possible.
“I want your hands on me,” he said. He reached for a pair of scissors he had on a side table. “Lean into me.”
She didn’t have any real choice. Her legs were suddenly rubber. She was melting into him. His skin was hot and he was strong and protective. His arms went around her once more and he cut the ropes and began to massage her arms and hands. Mariko tried to stand, alarmed that he was taking her full weight.
“Just lie against me, farfallina mia. I’ve got you.”
She wanted him to always have her. She felt safer with him, even tied, than she’d ever felt with any other human being. Her bare breasts pressed into his chest. Already she felt a million little sparks leaping from his skin to hers. Now it was even more so. Her nipples brushed over his heavy muscles, and ripples of fire spread straight to her sex.
Her entire body shuddered as his hands gently massaged her arms and hands. There were no pins and needles, nothing to say she’d been tied for a little while. He was that careful where he’d laid the ropes. Still, she groaned when he gently pulled first one arm and then the other from behind her to wrap around him.
“I’m going to pick you up.”
Immediately alarm spread through her. She’d been feeling beautiful and sexy until she heard Osamu’s voice in her head. You’re big and ugly. You should bind your big feet and breasts so you don’t knock into things. You’re clumsy and a complete embarrassment. Stay in your room when we have company.
One arm slid around her back, the other her knees. He lifted her easily, without seeming effort, cradling her almost tenderly against his chest. “Look at me, Mariko.”
She curled into him, both for strength and to hide her body just a little from his dark, piercing gaze. He could see through shadows. Into them. Beyond them. He could see into her mind. She lifted her gaze to his and instantly desire poured into her again. It was there in his eyes. So much she was drowning in it.
“Stay with me, Mariko. Don’t go there. Not ever again. She has no place here. Not in this room and not in this house. I want you to throw her out of your head and hear and see only me. Look at yourself the way I see you, not her. Do you need me to show you the images in the camera? When you see them, you’ll see only beauty.”
She allowed her gaze to drift over his face. Her fingertips went to the scar, tracing it from his eye, following the curve to the corner of his mouth. He’d gotten that scar saving her life. The ones on his chest had been put there for the same reason. She slid her hands around his neck and locked them there. For whatever reason, Ricco Ferraro wanted her, and she was going to have him. Again, she knew it was her choice. Having him for one night, or a few nights, and walking away brokenhearted was better than never having him at all. He was her choice.
Using her hands, she brought his head down to her uplifted one and took his mouth. The man could kiss. The moment her lips touched his, featherlight, teasing, tracing his lips with her tongue, his hand slid up her back to bunch her hair in his fingers. How he could hold her so close, so steady, without so much as a tremble she didn’t know–or care–because she had her mouth on his and it was . . . perfection.
He took over the kiss, deepening it. She followed his lead, tasting his hot, masculine flavor, savoring it, wanting to devour him. He kissed her over and over and she found herself drowning, every nerve ending on fire for him, so aware of him, of the muscles rippling against her bare skin as she floated through the air like some princess in a fairy tale.
He carried her through the house straight to the master bedroom. His territory, where he’d said no woman had ever been. She literally felt as if she were floating, his mouth on hers, kissing her senseless, as he took her through the spacious halls straight to his bed.
He stripped the comforter off while holding her with one arm, still cradled in tight against his chest. That ability was enough to take her breath away. Then she was on the cool, silk sheets, sprawled out on his bed, eyes on his, because there was no looking away from him. Even if she did, it wouldn’t have mattered. He was all she could see. Everything she could want.
Ricco stood at the bottom of the bed, his hands on his drawstring pants, but his gaze on her. “You’re so beautiful.”
She smiled at him. She couldn’t help it. He made her feel beautiful. “You did suffer a major blow to the head. Sooner or later you’re going to come to your senses.” That much was true, but in the meantime, she was going to enjoy every single second with him. “You have too many clothes on.”
He did. He so did. She had dreamt of his naked body entwined with hers, and that had been long before she met him–when she was doing research on him. She’d seen photographs taken of him in a hot tub with the Lacey twins, his bare chest showing. She’d been a little disappointed that he wasn’t standing. To her, he was physically gorgeous. She was grateful to realize that everything she’d learned about his character matched his body. He was a good man, a really good man.
“I don’t want to scare you off,” he teased, his thumbs in the waistband of his trousers. They sat low on his hips and he looked delicious standing there with that confident smile that bordered on arrogant.
She smiled and shook her head slightly. “That’s not possible.” This night was for her. She hoped she’d be memorable enough that he’d always cherish their night together. She knew she would. The movement of turning her head reminded her she had her hair up and she’d used long pins to secure it. She reached to take them out.
“Don’t take the pins out of your hair, let me.” He pushed the material down his hips, his gaze holding hers.
She couldn’t help but look. She knew her eyes went wide and she remained staring. “You aren’t going to fit.” There was disappointment in her voice.
He laughed softly. “I’ll fit, farfallina. You were made for me.”
She tried not to look skeptical, but when his laughter reached his eyes, she knew she hadn’t succeeded. He knelt on the foot of the bed looking so intimidating she had the unexpected urge to fling herself off the bed into the nearest shadow. God, he was beautiful, such a predator, a man born to ride shadows and dispense justice. His hips were narrow, his chest defined with heavy muscles that rippled along with his abs that she was a little jealous of. She couldn’t help but look lower, her breath catching in her lungs. “You really are a beautiful man.”
His smile tugged at her heartstrings. She hadn’t noticed him smiling with others. She felt like he’d given her a gift when he gave her that slow, sexy smile that lit the dark of his eyes. He caught her ankles and tugged her legs apart, all the while keeping his gaze on hers. That was what allowed her to obey his unspoken command and spread her legs for him.
She felt a little wanton and very sexy. The silk sheets under her bare skin slid over her back and bottom like a caress. He crawled up her, looking every inch the predator he was. His cock dragged along her thigh, heavy and full. She found him shockingly sensual. Everything in her responded to him.
“Thank you.” His voice smoothed over her skin the way the sheets did. He reached for her right hand, his gaze moving over her forearm and hand while he massaged. “You’re certain no numbness? You were in the ropes a long while and you aren’t used to it yet.”
The way he cared for her, as if she were extremely important to him, made tears burn behind her eyes. She’d never had that caring. Not, at least, that she could remember. “I’m in good physical condition.”
His grin was nearly a smirk. “I’m counting on that.”
For some reason that made her blush. He placed her arm carefully on the sheets beside her and massaged the other one. He held himself over her, as if it were an easy feat with one hand. She loved that he was so strong. She’d grown up feeling large and clumsy in the very small house with its narrow hallways, and Osamu beating her back with a broom because her body had brushed the table or chairs as she’d walked through a room.
She knew she would never regret this night. Not one single minute of it. Ricco Ferraro would always be her choice. Always.
Mariko was looking at him with stars in her eyes. A man could get addicted to that look, pay any price, do anything to keep that look right there for all time. Ricco placed her arm gently on the sheets and reached behind her head to pull the pins from her lush hair. He loved her hair, all that silk, thick and wavy, framing her face, brushing across her vulnerable neck, spilling on his pillow just the way he knew it would when he set it free. Her hair always seemed as if it had a life of its own. He loved that she looked so feminine, so delicate, and yet each pin he took from all those silky blond waves was lethal.
She was magic to him. All those years of heartbreak, of anger, of no sleep, watching over his family and feeling terror for them, came down to this woman. She was worth every single second of those years. Every moment he felt alone and apart from the others. He had saved her. He didn’t need a DNA test to know that Mariko was a Tanaka, and yet it wouldn’t have mattered if she hadn’t been.
If she were forever Mariko Majo, he would want her. He knew now how important what he’d done all those years ago was.
She was sexy to him. Everything about her. How sweetly feminine she could look and then she’d turn tiger and step into a shadow, snap a neck and return as serene as ever. The moment he saw her, his body reacted. Sometimes, like now, it was a slow burn, but other times, like in the studio when he’d tied her, it was a brutal inferno, but he always reacted to her.
He kissed her because kissing her was as necessary as breathing. When he kissed her, her arms went around him, her hands were on him, moving over his body, claiming him almost without her knowledge. Her fingers moved over his skin and his heart reacted, hammering loudly. Thunder roared in his ears and his cock pounded with hunger.
He couldn’t explain joy because he’d never felt it until Mariko. How could joy be wrapped up in the savage, primitive way she made him feel? He wanted to pound into her, be surrounded by her, taken deep. He wanted them to go at it so hard they rolled off the bed onto the floor and didn’t even realize it. At the same time, he wanted gentle for her. Tender. He wanted her to feel the love overwhelming him, the joy sweeping through him. He wanted her to know she made him . . . more. Whole. Better. So much more and better of a man. Every cliche he’d heard and thought was total bullshit. He felt all those things for her.
“God, I love kissing you,” he whispered against her throat. “I could kiss you forever.” He wanted to watch her undress slowly, or come to him just as she had in the studio. He couldn’t get enough of her, clothed or otherwise. She was . . . spectacular.
The rain started, drumming outside, hitting the roof and the sides of the house as the wind kicked up and drove it into the windows. Tears, he thought. Tears neither of them had shed when they should have. He kissed his way down her throat, feeling her pulse jump under his lips. Tears of sorrow. Tears of sheer joy.
He’d never felt skin like hers, softer than silk. He’d noticed that the first time she’d modeled for him, and he’d found every excuse possible to touch her skin. That was a first for him, too. Always before, with other models, his entire focus had been on his art. With Mariko, he was totally focused on her. Just as he was now. He lost himself in her.
He’d been right about her. She was a little wildcat in bed. There was no shyness, no holding back. Her hands were everywhere, stroking, caressing, urging him to move faster. He didn’t, of course, because she needed to be ready for him and he wanted every experience they enjoyed together to be more than just good for her.
Mariko couldn’t get enough of touching his skin. She loved the way he felt against her bare body. All the hard muscles covered by a satiny texture that she couldn’t resist. His mouth was at her breast, pulling strongly. Hot. Hard. His tongue rasping against her nipple, then the sharp scrape of his teeth sending fire streaking through her. It was so beautiful she wanted to live in that moment.
She scraped her nails down his chest, savoring the feel of his muscles rippling beneath the hot satin of his skin. Her gaze was on his face, watching him shudder, watching his eyes go dark, drenched with a desire so dark and intense it stole her breath. He breathed her name, a whisper of sound that moved in her soul.
She kissed his throat, feeling his pulse hammering beneath her lips. The heart of him. Every beat. For her. She would remember this moment for the rest of her life. Each separate beat under her lips, on her tongue, beneath her palm. She inhaled, drawing him into her lungs. Deep. Holding him there. He smelled fresh, clean, with that faint outdoor scent that was so elusive.
Outside, the rain poured on the roof and beat a rhythm against the window, drenching it so the water ran like a waterfall off the glass. The sound was beautiful to her, like a symphony, violins weeping in the background, her heart and his drumming a beat that she knew she would always remember.
He was never still, his hands and mouth as busy as hers. She loved that, too, that need in him, the driving hunger, as if he had to know every inch of her body. She felt that way, almost desperate to touch every single inch of his skin. Her fingertips followed the path of his scars, the long ridges that took her to the rows of muscles along his abdomen. Her mouth followed, kissing those scars, the signs of his courage and integrity. The marks he wore proclaiming he’d saved her.
He made a sound, deep in his throat, a dark, sexy groan that made her sex clench and her body shudder with desperate need. He’d given her release with his mouth in the studio, but that tension was back and this time it was a thousand times worse. Every nerve ending was on fire for him. She couldn’t get enough of touching him, of having every part of his body touching every part of hers. She felt almost frantic for the sensations he gave her with his hands . . .
Her head went up and she looked at his face, realizing it wasn’t the sensations so much as the need to be as close as possible. To give him pleasure. She wanted him to feel the way he’d made her feel. More, she wanted to worship his body the way he always seemed to worship hers. His hands moved over her, his mouth trailing kisses on her shoulder and down her arm, while his palms took in as much of her flesh as possible.
It was Ricco’s face that caught and held her attention–made her breath catch in her lungs and a million butterflies take wing in her stomach. For the first time, she looked beyond the dark sensuality carved so deep in the lines of his face, beyond the desire, the passion, and saw something else there she realized she’d seen before when he was with her. There was a vulnerability that was never there with anyone else.
She’d seen it on the street when he’d been thrown off the hood of the truck and was injured. She saw it when they were in his studio and he was creating his art. It was there now on his tough, handsome features. He was beautiful, and in that moment, he was all hers. She wished she could fully interpret that look, because she knew it was hers alone, but all she could do was memorize it and hold it close to her heart.
She breathed him in with every breath she took, wanting to gorge on him, absorbing every sensation, so that every detail was imprinted on her soul. She wanted to keep this memory, have this part of him, for all time.
Her heart clenched. Hurt so much. She rested her forehead against his belly as the realization swept over her. Not a moment. Not a memory. She desperately wanted him for her lifetime–beyond if she could. She had thought the ropes intimate, their connected shadows intimate, but this, the way he touched her body, so reverently yet at the same time with such dark passion–this was true intimacy. Not the ropes. Not the shadows. Not even the sex. Tears burned her eyes. She wasn’t going to ever get over him.
At once he lifted his body slightly up, propped himself up on one hand and looked down at her, studying her expression. There was no getting away from those dark, piercing eyes. He saw everything. Saw right into her.
“Amore, tell me.”
His palm curled around her throat and then moved down her chest to cover her right breast. She was acutely aware of his heat. Her nipple pushed right into the center of his palm, just as her heart had beat into it. She couldn’t tell him she knew he was going to have a night with her and, as with all the rest of his women, that would be enough for him. It would never be enough for her.
“Mariko.” His voice was gentle. Tender even. “You have to talk to me. You promised you would.”
She had, but in the ropes. Not lying under his gorgeous body without a clue what she was doing, but wanting it desperately. Wanting him desperately. She had to think of something fast if she was going to keep one shred of dignity.
“I’ve never done this,” she blurted. “I’ve never kissed anyone else or touched anyone else. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.” That was the strict truth. She was terrified she’d do something wrong and he wouldn’t want to be with her. She hadn’t wanted him to know ahead of time. She’d read extensively, but no man would court her, not with their mothers being friends with Osamu. No one wanted to incur her wrath and her never-ending revenge.
She held her breath. Anxious. Waiting.
His smile was slow in coming, but when it did, it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. He stroked his finger from the base of her throat down to her belly button. “I know what I’m doing, farfallina mia. Have no worries in that department. I swear I’ll be gentle with you.”
Ricco had never felt possessive of a woman in his life. He’d never wanted to belong to a woman or have one belong to him. He didn’t remember being innocent or vulnerable. He’d worked too hard to shed both after the experience in Japan. He needed to be tough and scary. He went through women, not because he needed variety but because he’d never found the one that he needed. He hadn’t found Mariko. She was everything he wasn’t. Vulnerable. Delicate. Innocent. She had the heart of a warrior and could dispense justice as easily as he could, but her heart had not been hardened by the harsh experiences of her life.
He cupped her face in his hand–that beloved face. He wanted to wake up every morning to her face, to the gentleness in her eyes. That soft, sweet voice. Her body. All his. He bent his head to take her mouth. Her lips trembled under his. He loved the shape and feel of them. He teased her lower lip with his teeth, nipping and easing the sting with his tongue. He traced the seam, waiting for her to part her lips so he could be inside.
Kissing Mariko was like transporting himself into an erotic world of feeling, of heat and fire. Once he’d kissed her, he knew he could never rid himself of the obsession–and he didn’t want to. He’d surrendered himself before he’d known he was in any kind of danger. He kissed her over and over until he felt her body relax beneath his.
He breathed her name, his own personal magic, and kissed his way down her throat. One knee slipped between her legs, nudging them apart. He felt her tense, and he murmured to her softly against her bare skin. “Relax for me, amore. Trust me to keep you safe.”
“I feel like I’m flying again,” she whispered, her voice shocked. “How can you do that when you’re just kissing my skin?”
“You do that for me.” He gave her the truth when he never would have told another soul.
“I do?”
Her hands were on his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin, flares of heat shooting down his spine at the streaks of fire the action produced. Dio, he loved her hands on him. He loved the evidence of her wildcat, the one that emerged when she wasn’t thinking too hard.
“You do,” he assured, taking the opportunity to slide his other knee between her legs, wedging them open so he could sweep his hand from her belly button to her mound. He went up on his knees so that he was kneeling.
She gasped. Her gaze jumped from his face to his hand.
“What does that feel like?”
Her eyes went back to his face, her gaze searching his. He waited patiently, his hand gently moving, fingers finding her damp and ready. He didn’t take his gaze from hers. He watched her take a breath, her breasts moving with the air in her lungs.
“Fire. A trail of fire.”
“What does this make you feel?”
He pushed his finger into her, stretching her slowly, forcing his way through the tight folds. His cock throbbed and jerked, so in need. So ready to feel her sheath surrounding him. He felt like he’d waited his entire life for this moment, this woman.
Her gaze dropped to his cock as he circled it with his free hand. Her eyes widened. She looked a little frightened, but her slick cream coated his finger, allowing him to slip a little deeper.
“Needy. Desperate.”
He loved that she was honest with him. He loved the way her hair was wild, spilling over the pillow, the way her exotic eyes had gone to amber, and her skin felt like silk. He wanted to see her like this every night. Wake up every morning to her.
He reached over to the nightstand, thankful he’d remembered to put condoms close. He was going to make certain to protect her. He wanted her to know that he wasn’t marrying her for the rider community. To have children. He wanted her to always know she was first in his heart. His choice. No, even more than that. He rolled on the condom, loving the way she watched, as if it was an important detail she would need to learn. Twice her tongue came out to moisten her lips, and when he caught her legs and pulled them around him, she made a sexy little sound that sent a vibration right through his cock. Once more his hand tested her.
“You’re ready for me, amore.”
“I feel ready,” she admitted. “So ready. I want to just scream at you to get on with it, but I’m scared, too.”
He loved that she trusted him enough to admit both to him. She wasn’t coy or shy; she was willing to make her own demands even if she was a little afraid.
He pressed the head of his cock to her damp entrance. Heat flared through him and he caught his breath. His body trembled with need. That had never happened to him before.
“Ricco.” Demand was in her voice.
He flashed his wicked grin, but he didn’t let her impatience hurry him. He wanted this to be good for her, and no matter the cost to him, he was going to give that to her. He sank into her hot, wet, tight sheath. The sensitive head of his cock felt on fire. Gripped hard. Squeezed. Stroked. He clenched his teeth and forced his body to stay still when his hips wanted to thrust forward hard, to bury his cock deep. Instead, he made slow circles with his fingers on her hips, trying to ease her tension.
“I can’t breathe.”
She was panting, her breath coming in ragged little gasps. He felt like doing a little panting of his own. Fire could be exquisite, and the tight sheath surrounding him was just that. He inched forward and her eyes went wide and shocked. He had to breathe deeply as her muscles clamped down like a vise. A sweet, hot vise.
“You’re too big. It burns.” Her hands went to his, although she didn’t push him away.
“You’re very tight, Mariko,” he said, using his rope master voice, the one that always steadied her. “Give your body a minute to adjust. It will. Trust me, amore, you were born for me.”
Her gaze clung to his and he waited, her hands on his until the tension drained out of her and left her face. She nodded. “Much better.”
He wanted it great for her, not just “much better,” but she was new at it and he wasn’t the smallest man ever born. Patience. He chanted it over and over in his mind. He slipped in another inch and then he was bumping her thin barrier, all the while watching her face.
She was squirming now, making it difficult for him to go slow. Every shift of her body sent ripples through her tight muscles so they danced and massaged and milked his cock. He threw back his head, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. He deserved fucking sainthood for this. Dio, he’d never felt anything like it.
“Ricco, I need–”
She broke off as he surged forward, past her barrier, pushing through the tight folds so they opened for him, just enough to let him in. He wanted to howl it was so good, the fire streaking up his cock, spreading through his groin and up his spine. He buried himself deep and stilled again, giving her body time to adjust.
“You good?” She had to be. He wasn’t certain he was going to survive.
She nodded her head, a slow smile curving her mouth. She was good. That meant so was he. He bent over her, his cock stroking inside her. She gasped and her muscles clamped down on him, the friction incredible as he slowly withdrew. Planting a hand on either side of her head, he began to move in her. Slowly at first, to make certain she could take it, and then, when her body responded with more damp fire, he set a fast, hard rhythm.
Fire surrounded his shaft, an exquisite burn as she clamped down like a silken fist. He threw back his head, breathing deeply, his gaze locked on her face to absorb the perfection of the sensation and the beauty of the passion there. Her breath came in little pants. Her skin was flushed, her eyes dazed, gaze clinging to his for reassurance.
Her body writhed on the sheets and her fingernails streaked more fire down his back. Dio, he loved that. Loved every second with her. He plunged deep and hard, burying his body again and again in her, the scorching friction creating flames burning through his body like a raging firestorm.
Mariko couldn’t look away from his face and the dark passion stamped there. He looked utterly sensual, completely focused, an ancient samurai warrior claiming her for his own. He moved in her faster and harder. Every hard thrust sent jolts of pleasure rippling through her body like waves taking her higher and higher until fear began to creep in. She couldn’t let go. She didn’t know how.
She wasn’t certain if she was going to live through her first time. Her breasts brushed his chest, so sensitive she felt as if pinpoints of fire brushed over her nipples each time. Lightning seemed to rip through her body, sizzling through her bloodstream with a rush of white-hot heat connecting her breasts to her sheath.
Fire roared through her, threatening to destroy her. She couldn’t quite catch her breath, and there was no stopping the sensations swamping her. She looked up at him. Ricco. She felt him in her then. With her. Connected. His hands were steady and certain. His shaft swelled, the friction growing even hotter. She found his dark gaze with her frightened one. She could see tenderness. Something more she was afraid to name.
“Let go, farfallina mia. Let yourself fly with me.”
She was used to that dark velvet voice. She knew his strength and power. She knew he would catch her. Breathing deeply, she let go. The ripples gathered in force until the sensations were giant swells. Thunder pounded in her ears. Her blood rushed hot and wild through her veins. Flames kissed her skin. Her body clamped down on his shaft, squeezing and milking, taking him with her. His arms tightened around her as she felt herself flung out into the stars, whirling around and floating, soaring, flying high with him. With Ricco. A shocked cry escaped and she heard Ricco’s hoarse chant as he emptied himself into her. Then he collapsed over top of her and she took his full weight.
She stayed very still, afraid if she moved she would lose that feeling of euphoria. She stroked her fingers through his dark, thick hair, breathing shallowly, determined that she really didn’t need air to breathe, she only needed to hold on to him. He groaned and pushed up slightly.
“That was beautiful. Wild.” He brushed her eyelids with kisses. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, not wanting to speak at all, not wanting the moment to end. Her heart had begun to settle, the roaring in her ears subsiding. Her body still felt as if it were floating, but now she no longer felt connected to him. She honestly didn’t know if she was withdrawing, or if it was Ricco, but she forced a smile. He frowned and withdrew, his heavy cock sliding over the sensitive bundle of nerves, triggering another orgasm.
She gasped and rolled, turning on her side, so she could draw up her knees.
“I’ll be right back, Mariko.” He knotted the condom and moved off to the bathroom.
She lay there, still a little dazed, but panic had set in. Heart pounding, she sat up, looking wildly around. He’d made it clear he didn’t hold women all night or have them in his bed. What was she supposed to do? She should have asked before she’d gone to his room. It would have been so much smarter to go to her room and then he’d have to leave, not her. She had no clothes. Her robe was in the studio.
There was only one thing to do. A shadow. She had to get into a shadow and find a way out of his room before he came back from the bathroom. Her first inclination was to grab the sheet and cover up, but the sheet wouldn’t go into the tube with her, as the specially made clothes for the riders did. She flung it aside and leapt to her feet.
She felt him on her skin. Inside her. Everywhere. He was branded deep in her body, but more–and she’d known it would happen–he was there forever in her heart. She wrapped her arms around herself and stepped into the nearest shadow that was thrown toward the door. It led right under it, except she was forced out of the tube right at the door itself. Nothing got under there. She’d run into that before when she’d first gotten there and wanted to explore his room.
What did people do? She reached for the doorknob, feeling foolish. He hadn’t locked her in. He didn’t keep women, he discarded them immediately. She wasn’t about to be the awkward situation in his home he couldn’t get rid of.
“Whoa. Stop, Mariko. Where are you going?” He reached around her, his hand above her head, preventing the door from opening. “What’s wrong, farfallina?”
She went very still, wishing she knew how to disappear. It used to work when she was a child, but Ricco saw her no matter what–and he was so close. His body pressed right up against hers. She could feel every inch of him, all man, all muscle, against her back and bottom. His cock, the moment he came into contact with her, skin to skin, went from semihard to just plain hard.
His finger slid down the nape of her neck. His breath was warm, stirring the thick mane of hair falling around her shoulders. “Amore. Where are you going?”
“Back to my room.” She said it to the door. That thick, heavy door with something stopping shadows from sliding underneath.
“Why?” His hand moved her hair so that he could trail kisses down the nape of her neck, following the path his finger had taken. His hands slid up and down her arms, warming her when she shivered.
She was shivering, not because she was cold, but because she couldn’t resist his touch and she wanted–needed–to be strong.
“I know you don’t like women in your bed, Ricco. I’m not going to make this difficult. You saved me from having to have an arranged marriage with Kichiro and I appreciate it. I really do.” She stayed still, facing the door, feeling him breathe. Feeling as if they still wore the same skin. His hands never stopped moving, caressing her arms, up and down, his breath on the nape of her neck, lips so close she felt them pressed into her neck.
He remained silent, giving her time to pull her scattered thoughts around her like a cloak. “A good shadow rider never goes after someone until he or she is totally convinced beyond any doubt that the person deserves justice. I had to research you. Thoroughly. You aren’t a man ever to be satisfied with one woman. That doesn’t make you a bad person, but you’re not husband material. I won’t be that woman in your bed that you wake up resenting.”
She was so proud of her voice. She kept it even. Low. Nonjudgmental. Most of all, the bone-deep sorrow she felt wasn’t there. Not even a hint of it.
Ricco groaned and pressed his face between her shoulder blades, his arms circling her under her breasts, holding her tightly so she was more a prisoner than she had been in the ropes. There was a moment of sheer panic, and then she felt his distress. His breathing had changed subtly, but it had. His heartbeat had accelerated.
“I’m honestly not trying to hurt you. I want you to know you’re off the hook. I’m not expecting marriage and fidelity just because we had sex. I knew what I was doing and made the decision myself. I wanted to be with you. I wanted you to be the one I chose, not the council. Not the riders. You were my choice, and I’m all grown up, Ricco. You have no responsibility toward me at all. As soon as we can, we’ll announce that the engagement didn’t work out.”
There. She’d absolved him. Every man would like that, right? He had to let go of her before he noticed her trembling. Her reaction to him. The sorrow eating away at her at the loss of her silly dream. She knew better than to dream. Or to hope. Or to want or wish for something. Especially something as big and real as Ricco Ferraro. A good man. The man who had managed to penetrate her heart. He was there for good. But she wasn’t a silly schoolgirl. She knew the difference between husband material and a man who would be miserable with one woman. His mother had it right.
“Are you finished?” he asked softly.
Fingers of desire danced down her spine. His lips were against her skin, speaking there so she felt every word formed. His hold on her hadn’t loosened at all.
“Yes.” She could barely get the word out.
“Then come back to bed.”
She couldn’t. If she went back there with him and he seduced her all over again, she’d be so lost she would agree to anything, and she knew she’d regret it. Self-respect was the only thing she had left to her. She shook her head because she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t actually tell him no. She wanted to go back to bed with him, but pride wouldn’t allow it. Pride and self-preservation.
Ricco shocked her by letting her go, turning her around and catching her under her legs to lift her. She had no choice but to grab on to his neck to hold herself upright. He looked down at her upturned face.
“Do you know how amazing you are?”
She shook her head but stared at the door, afraid to move or breathe.
“I have family. I’ve always had them. No matter what happens in my life, they’re here for me. You only have your brother, yet of the two of us, I’m the far more broken one. That alone speaks to your incredible strength, Mariko. Beautiful, strong and so ready to sacrifice for me. No, you’re right, I wasn’t the marrying kind. I never wanted to have a woman spend the night with me because I knew she wasn’t the right woman. You are that woman. When a man looks his entire existence, waiting to find her, and she shows up, believe me, amore, he recognizes her.”
She was afraid to move or speak. If she misunderstood him, or dared to believe him, she might shatter. She could only stare up at him, wondering how he could say such things to her, afraid to believe him.
“I’m willing to give you just about anything in this world you want, Mariko. I have the means to do it. You don’t want to be a rider, you don’t have to be. You don’t want children with me, you don’t have to have them. I don’t give a damn what the council says. I’ll stand in front of you, beside you or watch your back. But you’re not leaving this room until we have an understanding. I’ve had everything I don’t want. Believe me when I tell you, I recognize what I do want and I’ll do anything to keep it.”
