“I came here tonight not to be your rope model,” she admitted, looking him straight in the eye. Her voice rang with truth. With absolute certainty. “I wanted to seduce you, and I noticed when you tied me you were aroused. I thought if I came to you the way you asked, dressed in the robe and nothing else, I’d have a chance.”

His eyebrow shot up. His hands were moving faster, sliding beneath the rope to ensure she didn’t get burned or pinched as it coiled in his hands. “I get aroused because it’s you I’m tying. I don’t see other women when I tie. Their bodies are canvases I work with or practice on. I don’t fuck them after I tie them.”

He removed the knotted rope carefully. It was her rope now. He cleaned all his ropes with care, but this one would always be special.

Her eyes didn’t leave his. She didn’t blink. She looked at him as if he’d grown two heads – or she didn’t believe him.

“Mariko, I don’t bring women to this house. Ever. I’ve never had a woman in my bed. I don’t sleep with them. Or want to hold them all night. I don’t tie them here; I just created this space after my accident in hopes of finding you. When I’m working, it’s all about how the creation looks and the right lighting. The poses are sexual, even blatantly erotic bondage, but for me, working with the rope, the art I create centers me. My mind calms and I see only the creation in my mind.”

The harness was gone and she stood very still, hands still tied behind her back. She was naked, her body very flushed and aroused, every nerve ending on fire. She was totally aware of him, just as he was of her. His hands went to the last tie to free her. He hesitated. He loved the Japanese artwork depicting beautiful, intricate ties, men and women in bondage, posing in various positions. He never had considered what it would be like to have his woman completely vulnerable to him – so trusting she would give her body completely into his keeping.

“Any numbness in your arms or hands?” He asked the question as his hands moved over her arms, checking her body temperature.

She shook her head. “None.”

He stepped back and looked at her from behind. She was gorgeous. His. He made a slow circle around her, taking in her body with his heated gaze. Devouring her. When he was directly in front of her he tipped her face up with two fingers, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Tell me no if you don’t want this, Mariko. Once I have you, there isn’t any going back.”

He watched her take a deep breath and let it out, her breasts rising and falling, drawing his attention, her thighs rubbing together as if she could alleviate the ache between them.

“You always look so serene,” he observed, running the pads of his fingers over her breasts. “Even with your body on fire. It is on fire, isn’t it?”

She touched her tongue to her lips and he groaned. She swallowed and nodded slowly. “I need you more than I need to breathe right now. I want you in the ropes or out of them, Ricco. Either way. I’ll always welcome you.”

He took a breath. Lust and love combined in a fiery need rushing through him like a turbulent storm. He had to stay centered, make certain she was all right before he made his demands. In or out of the ropes. He had everything with her.

“Touch me, Ricco.”

He smiled. Wicked. Sinful. He felt both. He wanted to be both. He wanted to be her obsession. Her addiction. The love of her life. He took his time, kissing her throat, trailing kisses down to the curves of her breasts. Making her wait while he just blew warm air on her nipples. She swayed toward him, her breath hitching.

“Are you going to untie me?”

He was. He wanted to feel her hands on him. “I’m beginning to understand the appeal of a woman in bondage. When you get out of hand and go all wildcat on me, I’m going to resort to this.”

She laughed softly. “You know I’ll like it. It excites me to see what you’re going to do next.”

He obliged and she yelped when his mouth closed over her breast.

She leaned into him. “I don’t know about going wildcat.”

He did. She had more pent-up passion than he could imagine – and he could imagine a lot. It was in her bold, direct gaze and the smoldering there in the amber of her eyes. She was definitely going to make her own demands, and the thought of that had him wanting to quit teasing her and untie her so he could feel her hands on him.

“You’ll go wildcat on me.” He said it with absolute conviction and a hint of excitement. “But since you want to touch me so much, I’m going to untie you.”

“You’re projecting.”

He raised his head from where he was nuzzling her breast to look at her, letting her see how wicked he could really be. “You’re probably right. The thought of your hands on my cock has been on my mind for a while now. But… since you’re not ready to be untied…”

He dropped down to his knees, taking his time, his hands moving over the curves of her body, his mouth following the same path. Inserting one hand between her thighs, he pressed. “Apart, farfallina mia. Spread them apart and give me room.”

She made a little sound that vibrated right through his entire body. Playing was fun, but he wanted to get down to the real thing – making her his. Still, he looked up at her, at the desperation on her face. The hunger. The need. There was demand there as well. His woman was no shrinking violet, tied or not, and he fucking loved that.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“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.