Unwound

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“AMERY is really letting you bind her at the club?” Knox asked.

“Yes.” Ronin stared out the window at the falling snow. The sky remained a murky gray even at two in the afternoon. An abrupt temperature change always wreaked havoc in the dojo—put the kids on edge, made them energetic and sometimes careless. Thankfully his instructors were clued in enough to pay attention to those types of changes so he didn’t have to warn them about his extra safety concerns.

“Do you know which binding you’re demonstrating?”

“I know what style and components I’ll use, but I’m still working out specifics.” Specifically why Amery insisted she’d wear a traditional kimono or a bodysuit and not be bound naked.

You let your student dictate the rules to the master, pussycat?

He shook his head, trying to exorcise Naomi’s phantom voice. The thought of anyone but him seeing Amery’s bound beauty, the glow of her skin, the serenity on her face when she was at his mercy, the constriction of her nipples and ropes framing the secret heart of her, didn’t bring him a sense of pride but a fierceness to protect it. He’d never felt that way. And he sure as fuck didn’t know what to do about it.

So the irony was, now that Amery had initiated a demo night at the club, he was the one feeling unsure about going forward with it. But there was no way to stop it.

“Ronin?” Knox said behind him.

He turned. “Sorry. Lost in thought. What did you say?”

“Naomi has always fucked you up. I wanted to throw a freakin’ party when you said you were done with that psychotic bitch. I never trusted her. I hated the way she’d burrowed herself into your life, with her controlling, needy bullshit.”

Ronin studied Knox.

“What?”

“Is there a reason you didn’t mention any of this to me when I was with her?”

Knox scrubbed his hand over his face. “Truth? You’d just hired me. I needed the job—hell, it was my dream job—and at that time we weren’t friends. You were too fucking wrapped up in her to have any friends. And what would you have done if I’d said the two of you were in a dysfunctional relationship and the only way it’d end was badly? You would’ve canned my ass. After you found out how your grandfather had manipulated you, I was the only guy left standing in the dojo. It was only after you handed Naomi her walking papers that you and I established a friendship outside of boss and employee. Deacon gives me shit for saying stuff like this, but you guys are my brothers. I don’t hesitate to speak my mind now. But we both know if I would’ve confronted you about the fucked-up situation between you and Naomi years ago, I wouldn’t be here now.”

Ronin exhaled slowly. Why had he geared up to level Knox with a verbal smackdown? Because he hated to admit that Knox was right? He needed Knox in his life, not only as his right-hand man in business, but without Knox’s friendship he’d be on a different path—a destructive path. “You’re right. That pisses me off.”

Knox smiled. “I know.”

“So to answer your original question, I’ve been working on a suspension demonstration. More performance-art type of shibari, rather than straight kinbaku, which you know I fucking hate, but that’s what best fits this situation.”

Shiori walked in without knocking. Her face was pale, her eyes glazed.

Ronin’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“Amery. She’s . . .”

Immediately he was in Shiori’s face. “What about her?”

“She was attacked a little while ago.”

He gaped at her, mouth open and body frozen.

“Tell us what happened,” Knox said.

“She was meeting a new client. Before she got to the elevator in the parking garage, she was attacked.”

Rage and fear roared in his head.

“There were two guys, so she couldn’t fight them off. They roughed her up and left her.” Shiori put her hand on Ronin’s chest. “She called me because evidently Molly was attacked a few months ago and she didn’t want to bring back those bad memories for her.”

Even beat-to-shit Amery was thinking of others.

Why didn’t she think of you?

“Ronin, take a breath, so I can tell you the rest.”

He forced his lungs to work, and some of the dizzying rage dissipated.

“Amery didn’t call you because she recognized her attackers.”

“Who?”

“The guy who was with Naomi the other night. And another guy who’d been lingering around our table.”

“Where is Amery now? Did you take her to the hospital?”

“No. She’s banged up but swore she didn’t need medical treatment. I took her to the penthouse.”

Ronin ran out the door and down the hallway.

Behind him he heard Shiori yell, “Wait—” and then Knox saying, “Let him go.”

He forced himself to breathe steadily instead of beating the fuck out of the too-slow elevator.

When he finally reached the penthouse level, he took a moment to try to find his calm center. If only for a little while, if only for her.

Amery wasn’t in the living room or kitchen or by the bar. He saw the door to his room was ajar and completely dark. The scent of her shampoo lingered in a humid cloud throughout the space as he moved to the dresser and flipped on the lamp. Then he crawled right up beside her. “Amery?”

She’d pulled the covers over her head, but her response was clear. “Go away. I’m fine. I just need to sleep.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Let me see.”

“No.”

“Not doing this with you.” Heart pounding, he gently peeled the comforter back. She was curled into a ball, her cheek pressed into the pillow and her hair obscuring her face. “Look at me.”

She shook her head and tried to curl deeper into herself.

Ronin slid off the mattress and headed for the door. He flipped the overhead lights on and climbed up next to her again. “Let me see what they did to you.”

“I’m afraid to show you.”

He jerked back as if she’d taken a swing at him. “Show me anyway.”

When Amery didn’t move, he leaned over her and started brushing the hair away from her face. First thing he noticed was the bruise on her left cheekbone. His stomach churned at seeing that dark spot as well as the damp track of her tears. “Please, baby. This is killing me. Look at me.”

She slowly faced him. Her hair still concealed her face.

Please let it be stuck there by tears and not blood. Her tears weren’t easy to handle, but he could do it. But Amery’s blood? Might as well shoot him with a tranq gun. He wouldn’t handle that. At all.

Ronin lifted her hair, small sections at a time until she made an annoyed sound and sat up.

He knew she was staring at him, but he couldn’t look away from the marks marring her beautiful face. The bruises already turning her pale skin a mottled black from the bridge of her nose to the outer edge of her eye. Her upper lip was puffy. Same with her lower lip. The right side of her jaw held a shadowed shape of a thumb. On the opposite side, in a line down her neck, were three big dots. Indicating she’d been grabbed by the jaw and the guy had squeezed until he’d left marks.

Breathe.

Fuck. He couldn’t breathe. Rage supplanted air.

“I’m really hideous looking, aren’t I?”

Her soft, almost apologetic tone snapped him out of it.

Breathe.

In. Out.

Better.

“No, baby, you are beautiful. What was done to you is ugly.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry. The training didn’t kick in this time. I was so cocky after knocking Naomi down a peg. But these guys . . . caught me by surprise, and I just froze—”

“Ssh. Two against one is never a fair fight.” It absolutely fucking shredded him she felt any type of guilt about the attack. “Did they hurt you anywhere else?”

“First the guy punched me in the stomach, probably so I didn’t see the fist coming toward my face.”

Ronin forced himself to focus on her eyes. The pain in them would be his calm center. “Tell me how this started.”

“I got a call from a potential client yesterday. We set up the meeting time for today. He told me where to park and what elevator to take for the quickest access to their floor. Which didn’t seem weird at the time, because it is a big building, but now . . .”

“You’re a businesswoman. You meet with new clients all the time. There’s no way you could’ve known.” He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Tell me the rest.”

“I’d just taken my portfolio out of the backseat when this scary-looking biker dude approached me and asked if I had five bucks for food. I remembered Molly telling me she’d gotten asked the same question before her attack. Then I recognized him; he’d been hanging around us in the bar the other night. Next thing I knew, someone grabbed me from behind and wrenched my arms straight back. The biker guy punched me in the stomach. I think I must’ve fallen forward, and his knee smacked into my eye. Then he grabbed me by the throat and lifted me up.” She began to shake.

“It’s okay. I’m here. Take a breath.”

She nodded. “The rest is a little blurry. I think he backhanded me. He said something about keeping my mouth shut before he hit me there. Then he hit me again, two, maybe three times.”

Stay fucking steady.

“When the other guy let me go, biker dude pushed me into the car and I fell down.”

“Did it knock you out?”

“No. It disoriented me—don’t know how long I huddled next to my car. When I looked up, the Japanese guy who was with Naomi stood by my bumper, making sure I saw him. That scared me, so somehow I got into my car, locked the doors, and called Shiori.”

He would not add to her misery and ask her why she hadn’t called him. Would. Not.

Amery lowered herself back to the pillows and closed her eyes.

“How bad does it hurt?”

“More than I thought it would.” Tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes. “How can you do this, Ronin? Live with this kind of pain? They barely touched me, and I’m curled up in bed weeping like a baby.”

“Barely touched you—baby, he hit you in the face more than once.” He inhaled, still searching for a way to settle down the emotions seething inside him. “I go into the cage aware of what awaits me. You didn’t ask for this.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not.”

He brushed soft kisses across her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her temples, that mouse under her eye. He forced himself to stay gentle when his lips reached hers. He forced himself to view the bruises marring her skin as a chance to show his love and care of her and not a reason to go into a killing rage.

Yet.

After he’d kissed every mark, he whispered, “I love you. If I could take the pain for you, I would.”

“I know. But it’s not your fault. I was feeling cocky for showing that bitch I can take care of myself, and she proved I can’t. I humiliated her; she returned the favor.” Amery cupped her hands around his face. “She knew hurting me would hurt you.”

“I’d rather suffer through a thousand concussions than see one single mark on you.”

She blinked at him. “It hurts, seeing someone you love hurt.”

That’s when he understood Amery’s standoffish behavior after seeing him beat-up. She’d felt guilty—like he felt guilty now. “What can I do for you to make this better? I’ve got a couple of pain pills left.”

“Just stay with me until I fall asleep.” She pressed her swollen lips to his. “Be here when I wake up.”

“Done.”

“And don’t kill anyone. Please. I can’t stand the thought of losing you now that I finally found you.”

“Amery, I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed her cheek. “Get some rest.”

• • •

BUT Ronin did leave her. After she crashed and he was sure she’d be asleep for a while, he headed down to the dojo.

Knox and Shiori were in his office, ignoring each other, which was better than their constant sniping.

Shiori stopped pacing as soon as she saw him. “How’s Amery?”

“Sleeping. She’s shaken up and yet she somehow thinks she deserves it because she started crap with Naomi.”

“That is a load of crap.”

“Yes, it is.” Then Ronin did something that shocked himself and Shiori both. He hugged her. “Thank you for getting her here and being the cool head when you both knew I wouldn’t be.”

“So you’re not mad she didn’t call you?”

“No. I’m grateful.” Ronin stepped back, feigning a calmness he didn’t feel. “I need you to do two things for me.”

“Name them.”

“Use your resources to find out the name of Naomi’s bodyguard. Find out where she’s staying in Denver. Find out why the fuck she’s here. Find out if there’s surveillance tape on that level of the parking garage. I want to figure out who the bodyguard’s accomplice was.”

Shiori smiled. “It’d be my pleasure. What else?”

“Pick up Amery’s car and bring it back here.” He tossed Knox the keys. “You’ll have to take a limo ride, Shihan. You okay with that?”

Knox grinned. “Hell yeah. Now I’ll be thinking of places to stop, so people I know will see me climbing out of a limo.”

“Is the city dump open? Maybe we can pick up your girlfriend,” Shiori suggested.

“Ooh, good one, She-Cat. Maybe if you do everything you’re told, when you’re fifty, your grandfather will let you learn how to drive.”

Just as Ronin was about to bark, Enough, they took the back-and-forth out of his office.

Almost on autopilot, he changed into workout clothes. He wrapped his hands on his way to the training room. He knew it’d be empty this time of day. While he usually practiced in silence, focusing on the sound of his breath, gauging the pressure of his hits and kicks by the thwack and crack of his feet and fists connecting with the practice dummy, today he needed noise. Loud distortion that fueled and fed the angry clawing beast inside him.

He found the CD with the mix of music that had one commonality: every time he listened to it, he got mad. He cranked the tunes and freed the rage.

Ronin hadn’t worked his body this hard since before his last fight injury. Concentrating on the flex and release of his muscles for maximum power. Falling back on his training and becoming the persona that demanded respect and pride.

He dripped sweat. And still he pushed through. Switching from punching to kicking to jumping rope to kettle balls to practicing orchestrated falls.

During a break in the music, he glanced at the clock. An hour and a half had passed. At some point, he’d slicked his hair into a ponytail. He didn’t remember. When he hit this zone, his violent Zen, he literally lived in the moment—from punch to punch, kick to kick.

Gil knocked twice before he entered.

Godsmack’s “I Stand Alone” started, and Ronin jogged over to lower the volume. “Are you looking for me?”

“I’m looking for Terrel. Have you seen him?”

“No. Why?”

“I came early so we could grapple.”

Ronin didn’t hesitate to offer, “I’ll grapple with you.”

Gil’s face showed shock. Then trepidation. “I appreciate the offer, Sensei, but—”

“But you’re afraid. Of what? That you’ll kick my ass? Or that you won’t?”

“I, ah . . .” Gil sighed. “Don’t put me in this position.”

“What position? I’m offering to grapple with you. That’s it. I do it with my guys all the time.”

Gil stared at him for a long moment before he nodded. “Come up to the ABC training room.”

Ronin wanted to ask what was wrong with this training room. But he realized his instructors would start showing up before too long, and chances were good they’d put a stop to the practice. “I’ll grab my gi.”

It was quiet on the third floor except for the office, where he heard Katie yakking on the phone. Didn’t sound like a business call. But she’d settled into being a decent worker, so he’d let it slide. Besides, he’d scare her in his current frame of mind.

Gil was doing warm-ups. Ronin watched him with a critical eye. He hadn’t grappled with any of the ABC guys except for Blue, and most of that fight was a blur.

When Gil motioned he was ready, Ronin bowed at the edge of the mat and stepped on.

“Standard tournament rules.”

They bowed to each other.

Like Ronin expected, Gil immediately went for the takedown. So he let it happen and ended up in guard. In most cases, top position had control. He intended to show Gil that wasn’t always true.

And prove it he did.

First round, he’d put Gil in a headlock.

Second round, he’d locked Gil into an arm bar.

Third round, he’d maneuvered Gil into a rear choke.

They circled each other, ready for round four.

Terrel interrupted. “I’m fifteen minutes late and y’all start without me? That shit sucks.”

Terrel was normally so quiet, Ronin had heard him speak only once. He had twenty pounds, several inches and belt levels on the guy, but he tossed out, “I think I wore Gil out.”

“Great. Now who’m I gonna grapple with?”

He stood and said, “Me. And you’d better bring it.”

Terrel grinned. “Cool, man. I love a challenge.” He bowed in as Gil bowed out.

Ronin bounced foot to foot, beyond impatient. In that zone where he felt invincible.

And Terrel wasn’t much challenge either.

First round, he put Terrel in an Americana lock.

Second round, he put Terrel in a scarf hold.

Third round, he put Terrel in a Brabo choke.

That’s when Blue showed up.

Ronin released Terrel and helped him to his feet. They bowed to each other, and Ronin faced Blue.

“Are you going to tell me that my instructors’ groundwork needs work, Sensei?”

“No. I was just helping out. Sometimes I fail to see the differences between BJJ and traditional jujitsu.”

“Superior training in BJJ,” Blue said.

“Prove it.” Ronin’s gaze moved over Blue. “You’re dressed.”

“You’ve got a dangerous look in your eye, my friend.”

“Don’t want to grapple? Fine. Let’s fight. Give me a chance to reclaim my honor.”

Blue snorted. “Your honor isn’t in question. Just your sanity.”

Ronin had reached that point of a reckless high. “If you’re afraid to fight me, Curacao, say so.”

“I am not afraid. And you’ve just gone grappling rounds with both of my top instructors. I hardly think this is the time to offer challenges.”

“Or maybe, with me being tired out, it’ll be a fair fight for a change.”

That got Blue’s back up just as Ronin expected it would.

“I knocked you out last time we fought.”

Ronin shrugged. “Lucky shot.”

Blue spoke in Portuguese to Gil and then he faced Ronin. “I’ll need to warm up while it looks like you could cool down.”

Ronin’s adrenaline spiked again, and he had a difficult time standing still.

By the time they met in the ring, gi tops gone, gloves on, mouth guards in, Ronin’s pulse was tripping triple time.

“Amateur parameters?” Terrel asked, serving as referee.

They both nodded.

“You know the rules.”

Ronin came out swinging, trying to keep this fight off the ground so he could hear the satisfying smack of his fist on flesh. He let fly and punched Blue in the face.

Just like that son of a bitch did to Amery today.

What kind of sick motherfucker hit a woman? His cross jab landed on Blue’s ear and knocked him back a step.

Ronin kept coming. A knee jump that connected to Blue’s chin followed by a spinning back elbow that caught Blue in the shoulder.

And when Blue went for the takedown, Ronin relished it and allowed himself to be brought down hard. He got in two head punches before performing a rolling press to get out of half guard.

Blue wasn’t expecting that. Or the side mount that allowed Ronin a perfect gut punch.

Just like that son of a bitch did to Amery today.

What kind of sick motherfucker hit a woman? He angled his hand and pummeled Blue—from his chest to his chin.

Terrel yelled, “Time!”

Ronin rolled to his feet and walked to his corner, mopping his face with a towel and taking out his mouth guard for a second. He leveled his breathing and scrolled back through the fight, trying to remember his opponent’s weaknesses. He wasn’t interested in a tap out; he wanted the fight to go all three rounds. He wanted to deliver pain.

So when the second round started, Ronin didn’t see Blue, his business partner, he saw . . . red.

He became methodical in his fury. Cunning. Able to keep his opponent on his feet until that moment he charged, and they hit the mat with a bone-jarring whump. Then he was fighting for dominance. Keeping legs and arms in constant motion. Getting away from his opponent’s hold by utilizing the running sweep just as the referee yelled, “Time!”

Ronin was starting to feel exhaustion set in as the third round started. Which is probably why his opponent was able to connect with a side kick that caught him in the gut and sent him flying against the net. Pissed off, he charged, knocking him to the mat with a wrestling takedown.

Once Ronin was on top, he utilized jab after jab, feeling a burst of satisfaction at seeing the blood . . .

“Stop! Omigod, Ronin, stop it right now!”

He was abruptly yanked upright. Two steel bands circled his upper body, and he welcomed the chance to rest.

Then Amery was in his face.

Amery?

What the fuck was she doing in the goddamn cage?

Her face looked like she’d gone a round.

Then he remembered and his stomach clenched. That burst of rage exploded inside him again. My fault, my fault, my fault. Baby, I’m sorry.

Amery placed her hand on his heart. “Ronin. It’s okay. I’m okay. Don’t do this. You’re not supposed to do this.”

He glanced at his opponent—holy shit, that was Blue—holding a bloody towel to his face as he sat in the middle of the practice ring.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

His mouth guard fell out when he started to speak. “Blue. Jesus. I’m so sorry.”

Blue rose to his feet with a grunt and shuffled over. His gaze slowly roamed over Amery’s face, and he murmured something in Portuguese. Then his eyes met Ronin’s. “I don’t blame you for the anger, my friend. But now we are even for our first fight.”

While Ronin’s lungs billowed, fighting for more air, his eyes followed Blue’s progress out of the room.

“I’m gonna let go of you now,” Knox said.

“Amery, baby, step back in case I fall.”

The woman didn’t budge. “Then I’ll catch you.”

He just about lost it again right then.

• • •

AMERY watched Ronin closely. He didn’t act like he’d gone three rounds with Blue. Evidently he’d gone six grappling rounds with two other ABC black belts before that. Seeing the man was still standing spoke volumes about his strength.

And about his heart.

He didn’t speak until they were in the private elevator. “How’d you know?” Ronin asked her.

“Blue sent Gil to find Knox when the fight started. Knox came and got me.”

“I’m sorry. You didn’t need to see that—or deal with me after what you’ve been through today.”

Amery pressed her cheek to his still sweaty chest. “You put yourself through that because of me. Did it help?”

“Some.”

“Did you get hit in the head?”

Ronin kissed her crown. “No. I just needed . . .”

“You don’t have to explain. I accept all parts of you, sweetheart.” She brushed her lips across his pectoral. “Even the parts I don’t understand. But that doesn’t mean I can’t worry you took it too far.”

He said nothing.

The elevator door opened to the penthouse, and she stayed glued to his side, even when he tried to shake her free.

“Look, Amery, I need a shower.”

“So do I. I’ll scrub your back; you scrub mine.”

Once they were in the master bathroom together, not happily, according to Ronin’s expression, she realized in all the times and all the places they’d had sex, they’d missed the shower.

The water kicked on. Steam filled the air. Ronin had been in the glass enclosure for a couple of minutes before she slipped in, plastering her body to his.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he said, vigorously shampooing his hair.

“No, you won’t.” Nestling her face against his chest, she ran her fingertips up and down his sides.

“Amery—”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

“What? I’ve looked at you.”

“Not since earlier. Right after you saw—”

Ronin whirled around and faced the water. Rivers of bubbles raced down the hard planes of his shoulder blades and arrowed into the dip in his spine, between his buttocks.

Wasn’t like him to be intentionally rude, but turning his back to her seemed dismissive.

Amery snagged her loofah. Using the bubbles still coursing down his back, she began to draw small circles from his left shoulder to his right. His golden skin didn’t have any freckles or moles. No past or present blemishes that marred his muscled flesh. He had a few scars here and there. But mostly he was just beautiful.

And that ass. The man had an ass to die for. Not too much of a bubble butt, not too flat, those taut muscles creating a perfect mix of round and hard.

In a split second, Amery went from ogling his ass to ogling his cock.

His fully erect cock.

She glanced up at him.

But his eyes wouldn’t meet hers. They were too busy assessing the marks and bruises on her face. “Did you put ice on your eye to keep the swelling down?”

“Really, Ronin? I’m naked, touching your naked body, and you’d rather swap first aid tips?”

His eyes were so bleak when he finally looked at her.

Amery moved forward until his cock brushed her belly and her nipples touched his chest. “You’re failing my test.” He didn’t retreat, which was a good sign.

“What test is that?”

“You asked me to move in with you. And my answer will be a solid no if you deny me shower sex whenever I want it.”

“All it will take for you to move in with me is one round of shower sex?”

She twined her arms around his neck. “Yes. We’ve never done it in your shower. Maybe the reason is because your technique is lacking or something. So I can’t fully commit to living with you unless I’m assured you are up for getting down and dirty when we’re getting clean in the shower.”

“I feel dirty right now.”

Not the type of answer she wanted. “Talk to me.”

Ronin rested his forehead to hers. “I hate that someone hurt you.”

“I hate that you decided to punish yourself for someone hurting me. You could offer to kiss it and make it better.”

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you if I kiss you.”

“So pin me against the shower wall and fuck me. Kiss me next time. And the time after that. And talking hurts more than anything because my teeth rub—”

“On the underside. Then your tongue keeps going to that sore spot and making it worse.” He feathered kisses over the side of her mouth that wasn’t swollen. Then he lightly slipped the tip of his tongue across the seam of her lips, tasting the bruised skin on the inner rim, showing utmost tenderness.

Then he was backing her into the tile wall.

Steam swirled around them. Water spattered against his back.

“Bruises on your beautiful neck. That kills me.” Soft, wet kisses followed the arc of her throat, and he followed the sweetness with heat, gifting her with a shiver-inducing pass of his warm breath on the spots he’d just kissed.

“Ronin, I’m fine.”

“I’m not fine. Not even fucking close to fine.”

“Then let’s make it fine. Better than fine.” Amery reached between them and jacked his shaft until he hissed with pleasure. “Good. I just want to make sure you’re as pumped for this as I am.”

He groaned against her throat when she repeatedly rubbed her thumb over the sweet spot beneath the head. “I am. Grab the shower bar.” Ronin slipped his hand behind her knee and pressed it into the wall. “Lift your leg. Higher. Come on. You practice yoga.”

There was her bossy man. She kept her eyes on his face as he raised her thigh so her kneecap was parallel to her shoulder.

“Hang on to me.” He moved in until they were groin to groin. Then he finally stroked her pussy. “You’re wet.”

“Being naked with you does that to me.”

He slowly fed his cock into her. He circled his fingers around her ankle, sliding her leg up, and pushed farther inside her.

“Omigod. That’s like . . .” She gasped when he did it again.

“Like what?”

“Stretching me so much that I can feel you on me and in me.”

“I want you wide open so I can hear that sexy little fucking moan when I do this.” He withdrew his cock and ground against her as he slid in deep again.

Amery moaned.

“That sound right there means I’m doing something right.”

“You’re doing everything right.”

His lips followed the shape of her ear from the lobe to the upper shell. “Fast, slow, sweet, rough . . . it’s so good every time. When I’m with you like this, it feels like I’m where I belong.”

Words like that . . . Even with the passion flowing between them so strongly she could scarcely think of anything else, his admission brought a quick sheen of tears.

The heat between them took time to build. And Ronin dragged every bit of anticipation out of them both.

His hand gripping her ankle, his mouth licking and sucking on her skin. His cock powering into her. Every stroke created friction on her clit. Every brush of her nipples against his chest sent more tingles skittering across her flesh.

“Amery.”

“I know. Me too.” Her hand curled around the back of his neck. “Take us there.”

And he did, with the erotic precision he’d mastered. They came at the same time, which didn’t always happen. But when it did? Holy shit.

“Okay,” she panted. “You don’t suck at shower sex.”

Ronin chuckled against her throat. “Neither do you.” He slowly lowered her leg to the floor and eased out of her body. Those wonderfully rough hands skated up the curve of her hip, the bend in her waist, and over her breast. “Thank you, baby, for knowing what I needed and pushing me to take it.”

She traced the edge of his collarbone up to his throat and tipped his chin back to look into his face. Some of the tension had lessened, but not all. Not enough. “I know something else you need.”

He blinked in that measured way that let her know he was still thinking about sex. “What would that be?”

“You need to create something beautiful with these hands. And I need the connection with you and how you make me feel.”

“How’s that?”

“Like it’s more than just rope binding us.”

“It is more. A lot more. And yes, after all that’s gone on today, I could use the concentration and the focus entirely on you.” He twisted a section of her damp hair around his finger. “Would you give me that?”

“Of course. Should we make this a formal binding?”

His eyes searched hers. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“No. We haven’t done that in a while. Won’t it be more formal between us at the club?”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Okay.”

“Your robe is in the guest bedroom.” Ronin kissed her cheek. “Ten minutes.”

Amery quickly dried off. After slipping on her cherry blossom robe, she arranged her hair in a messy knot on the top of her head, securing it with a pair of ornamental chopsticks Shiori had given her.

Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply for ten breaths before she moved into the practice room.

Ronin had lit candles on the small altar in the corner. Rope work was a deeper kind of meditation for him even when he claimed it was all about her.

Amery was aware that Ronin meditated in his Zen garden as well as at the altar he’d installed in this room. Since she’d never dated a man who wasn’t Christian, she’d read up on Shintoism so she wasn’t so freakin’ clueless. It wasn’t an organized religion that expected followers to profess faith and adhere to strict rituals, but a spiritual way of life that celebrated Japanese traditions and history, as well as belief in kami—a sacred life force that dwells within all humans and nature.

Of all the people she’d met in her life who professed to live by the tenets of their belief system, Ronin Black actually did.

Waiting on her knees, facing the wall of ropes, was a form of meditation for her. She never felt subservient in this position. It allowed her anticipation to build, reminding her of the savasana pose at the end of yoga practice—where her mind floated and her body was still.

Ronin normally moved with such stealth, but he made a point of entering the practice room with enough noise to keep her from being startled. Usually their sessions or scenes were done in silence. She loved the auditory part of the connection before the binding. Hearing his ragged breathing. The thump of rope coils as they hit the floor. The rasping sound of the rope moving through his rough-skinned hands and the friction between two pieces when he crafted knots. Sometimes he pulled the rope back almost like a rubber band, so it made a resounding thud against her skin. Throughout the binding process, the whisper of his gi pants and the scratch of his callused hands on the satiny robe added to her already heightened sensations.

So today it surprised her when the soft, soothing sounds of music drifted from the corner.

“I’m glad you wore your hair up,” he murmured against her ear.

She said nothing.

“Aren’t you talking to me?”

“We don’t usually talk during a formal binding.”

“I thought we’d mix it up today.”

“Is that why there’s music?”

“Yes.”

The change in him made her nervous. “What is this music?”

“Ensemble pieces using a samisen, a koto, and a shakuhachi—traditional Japanese instruments.”

Very, very slowly, Ronin began to slip the robe off her shoulders.

“Is this in preparation for the club demo? Do you play music then?”

“No, it’s just background noise. Reminds me of the years I spent in the monastery.”

“Did you play an instrument?”

“I learned the basics of a shakuhachi—the bamboo flute.”

“Why that one?”

“Because it’s also a weapon.”

“Why—”

“Amery.” His hand on her lower back and his heated breath on her bared shoulder stopped the rapid-fire flow of words. “Why are you babbling?”

“Because this is so different from every other time we’ve been in this room, and I don’t know what to expect,” she blurted out.

“That’s not a bad thing. Can you face me please?”

Amery rose to her feet and turned around to see Ronin still on his knees. “Oh. Was I supposed to—”

“No, baby, stay like that. I wanted to see if you had bruising or marks on your stomach. Tell me where it hurts.”

She had the childish urge to push him away, but she tamped it down. “He hit me kind of dead center.”

“Did it knock the wind out of you?”

“No.”

He scooted closer and spanned her waist with his big hands. “Soreness by your ribs?”

“Mostly my face hurts.”

Ronin strung kisses from one side of her belly to the other. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his palms into her shoulder blades. “I want to do a modified chest harness on you. It’s a complex pattern, and it’ll take some time. Are you up for that?”

“Whatever you want, rope master Black.”

He rocked to his feet. “This binding will be face-to-face.”

Amery wanted to ask why but refrained. “So do I get to ask what kind of rope you’re using?”

“Plain jute. Fairly small diameter.”

Ronin sauntered to the wall with the ropes and snagged four bundles from the top row.

Seemed like a lot of rope for just an upper-body binding. But again, for as talkative as he seemed, she worried if she started questioning him about his techniques, he’d clam up.

He pointed to the bench. “Straddle the bench.”

“Where will you be?”

“Sitting in front of you.”

A seated binding? That was novel.

They sat knee to knee, and Amery had the urge to cover herself. Normally she barely noticed her nakedness when he was tying her. But being this close to him, with her sex bared and him wearing gi pants, she felt more exposed than ever.

Ronin undid the rope, and it made a soft swish as the length brushed the wooden bench. He leaned forward, burying his face in her neck and breathing her in.

Just that small intimacy allowed her to relax.

“Wrists together, palms facing toward you,” he murmured, placing a soft kiss on the pulse point on her throat.

Amery watched his focus take over. Eyes dark, full mouth pursed, a bit of color highlighting his cheekbones.

He did a hojojutsu quick tie—she’d come to differentiate them from other ties—each wrap perfectly placed. Then he pressed her wrists against her chest, her palms over the tops of her breasts. “Hold like that.”

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Every brush of his fingertips as he wound the rope around her back, every hard tug of the rope over her crisscrossed arms. Every loop and knot precisely placed with such a loving touch. He even stopped to kiss her shoulder, which was a rare reaction from him when he was in the Zen zone as he bound her. Then he kissed the tips of each of her fingers, spread out like starfish over her chest. He caressed her thighs every time he reached for a new rope.

Normally the binding process sent her into a fuzzy headspace. Not tonight. Tonight it wasn’t about sensuality, but comfort.

Not comfort for her, but for him. Putting him in a place where he had total control over her. Where he could soothe her, cherish her, protect her.

With each new section he added, Amery saw him coming back to himself.

Her arms were numb, but she couldn’t break the unity between them.

Finally Ronin lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. “Done.”

Amery glanced down at the plain tan ropes that covered her from shoulders to belly. On the outside, the design resembled a messy, misshapen spiderweb, but on the inside, over the center of her torso, was an exquisite flower, with perfectly shaped petals.

Ronin stared at her bound, pleasure and gratitude on his face.

She blinked back tears. She did this for him. Letting him use her body as a canvas, as a cushion, as a haven, as the chance to create something beautiful and special.

“So unbelievably lovely,” he said softly.

“The rope work is stunning. Does the pattern have a name?”

His darkly golden haze hooked hers. “No. I combined two patterns. But I’m thinking of naming it . . . Absolution.”

“Ronin. You don’t need absolution for anything.”

“But you gave it to me anyway.” He softly kissed her swollen mouth. “Thank you.”