She loved her suite. The large bedroom with its dressing and sitting rooms was so beautiful she couldn’t help wandering around each time she entered. She always went to the glass doors leading into the gardens with the views that took her breath and made her feel at peace. Even now, when she should be nervous, she just felt certain. Absolutely certain.

She ran her bath and added the wonderful smelling beads of oil Ricco had left for her there before stepping into the water. So many small touches. She appreciated each of them, but more than anything, she appreciated the confidence he’d given her to be who she was. To make her own decisions. Every step of the way, Ricco had stood back and encouraged her to make choices. He made it clear from the moment she walked into the interview room that she was in control.

Being in his ropes had taught her about the exchange of power. About beauty and the concept of sensuality. Art. Being a woman. Confidence. Above all else, trust. She understood why her mother loved being a rope model. It was freeing. She felt as if she were soaring when she was with Ricco Ferraro and he’d wrapped her up in himself – in his ropes. She also was very aware that she would never allow any other human being to tie her. It was all about her connection to him – and what he needed.

She was careful with her makeup, using a sheer, barely there foundation. She made up her eyes in a smoky, sultry look and added red lipstick to her pouty lips. She stayed naked while she pinned her hair in an elaborate swirl that would come down the moment he pulled out the long, decorative pins.

The robe was sheer stretch lace. Black. Delicate. It flowed down her body as if the material lived and breathed, a sensuous garment that slid over her curves to the floor. There were three pearly buttons at her breasts, but the entire rest of the robe was open so that with every step it opened and closed and slid over her bare skin, making her aware of her femininity and the power she wielded as a woman.

As she made her way to the studio, she knew she wanted this time with Ricco more than anything else in her life. This was her claiming him. Choosing him. She wanted him with every breath she took. Every step toward him. Every step took her closer to what she wanted.

She took a deep breath when she reached the studio doors. There would be no going back from this moment, but she knew she would never be sorry. She was that certain that Ricco Ferraro would always be the man for her – even when she knew she wouldn’t be the woman for him forever. But she would be now.

She pushed open the door and stepped through, surprised by the moody music and the dim lighting. Ricco was shirtless, wearing only a pair of soft, drawstring pants. They molded to his butt and hung lovingly on the powerful columns of his thighs. He had his back to her and was looking over the coils of rope. They were all different textures and colors.

He turned to look at her as she came up behind him. She saw his eyes widen, then go dark with sensual hunger and need. She loved that she could put that look in his eyes. He had a rope in his hand, one with several knots already tied on it. She raised an eyebrow and indicated the rope. It was gleaming, midnight black. Made of cotton.

His smile was wicked. “You’ll see. You look… beautiful. Sexy. Beyond my imagination. Thank you, Mariko, for knowing I needed this even before I did. Already, the ropes are grounding me.”

She wasn’t certain what the sight of the rope sliding through his hands was doing to her – or the knots… She’d felt the vibration of the rope in their earlier sessions and the sensation had been almost more than she could bear. She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like with knots…

She glanced over to the table where he’d set up the camera. He was going to capture her needs. She knew she would never be able to hide them, especially as he was already preparing to use the rope to stimulate her. She wanted him to see, wanted him to know she was aroused. For him.

She knew no other way to seduce him. Each time he’d had her in his ropes, he’d been aroused. He hadn’t tried to hide it… but neither had she. Her skin had flushed a soft rose, her eyes gone wide with excitement and need. If she was honest with herself, Ricco seemed aroused every time he was with her, which meant he was that way around women. It was Mariko who was made different in the ropes. Because they were his. An extension of him. He wrapped her up with himself. With his power. He gave her a confidence she’d never had before. She knew she was beautiful to him when he created his art with her body as the canvas.

Ricco watched Mariko as she moved around the studio. He loved the way she walked, flowing feminine power she was unaware she had. Her hips swayed, calling attention to her beautiful form. She stretched, completely focusing on warming her muscles, getting her body ready for the vigorous workout of being in the ropes. It gave him the ability to watch her unnoticed. Everything she did, every move she made only served to heighten his hunger for her.

She was very symmetrical, something he found fascinating. He worked with symmetrical patterns because they were so pleasing to the eye. She was already aroused, her body in a heightened state, every nerve ending receptive to the rope – receptive to him.

The rope slid seductively through his fingers, an automatic motion now to ensure there were no kinks. He could tell the burn speed of a rope with that one movement. He felt for splinters, anything that might make her uncomfortable when he laid the rope against her bare skin. For him, her safety and comfort were paramount.

He found the center of the rope easily, his gaze still on Mariko. She moved him in ways he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just the way their shadows connected; it was everything about her. He liked her silence. Her flashes of temper. He’d see it in her eyes just before her lashes covered the raw emotion. He loved that. Loved that beneath the serene, peaceful exterior, there was a wealth of passion and emotion. It came out the moment he put the ropes around her.

Watching her, the vision began to take shape, the way it always did. He could see the ropes laid against its beautiful canvas of curves. The halter. The corset. The colors. More, he intended to seduce her. To claim her. To make her believe his marriage proposal was real and he meant every word of it. He knew more secrets with ropes than most and they were all for his woman. He would take her to the very edge of ecstasy, hold her there and then take her to his bed.

He had tied other women, even women he had sex with – the Lacey twins more than once – but it had always been one or the other: sex or art. Never had he wanted to do both at the same time – until now. He’d contemplated it, but he hadn’t wanted to taint his art with something he considered casual. His art wasn’t casual. By the time he’d considered using Shibari for an erotic time with the twins, he was already so jaded he’d dismissed the idea.

Shibari had been the only thing left to ground him. He’d viewed sex separately. Now, there was no separating anything from Mariko and the way he felt about her. The way he needed her. He had to find ways to tie her to him before she decided to bolt – and she would. Any sane woman of intelligence would take one look at his reputation and run for the hills.