Shadow Reaper (A Shadow Riders Novel Book 2)

His past had finally caught up with him. Ricco stared down into Mariko’s beloved face. He detested that he had hurt her in any way. She’d been hurt enough by the people who had taken her into their home–the ones who should have shown her love. He brushed her forehead with his mouth and placed her back in the middle of his bed, following her so that she had no chance to escape if she was so inclined.

“I think, before we go into explanations of why I’m so fucked up, and how I need you to save me, I think you need to be aware my marriage proposal was very sincere.”

She shook her head. “Don’t, Ricco. I was there. You were saving me from Kichiro, which was very gallant of you and I really appreciate it, but I’m certainly not going to hold you to it.” She scooted up to the headboard, sat with her back to it, drawing up her knees and pulling the sheet up to her chin.

He wanted to tell her if she thought she was safe–she wasn’t. He had ropes in the room and could easily tie her to the bedpost if that was the only way he could get her to stay and listen. He almost laughed out loud at his crazy thoughts. He was in full-blown panic mode, another new first for him as an adult. He’d prepared for every situation but finding the woman he could love and losing her through his own stupidity.

“You’re giving me far too much credit, Mariko,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair in agitation. “I’m not the kind of man who goes around saving women.”

“You’re exactly that kind of man.”

“I told Emilio I was going to marry you,” he pointed out.

“In the heat of the moment. Joking.”

“Woman.” Exasperated, he glared at her.

“Would you mind putting on some clothes? A robe? Anything? I can’t think straight.”

She sounded a little desperate and that took some of the tension away. She couldn’t be so bent on leaving him if she couldn’t look at him naked with a clear mind. He sank down onto the bed, facing her.

“Does that help?”

She nodded. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

He almost smiled at her prim voice, but caught himself just in time. He reached for her hand, threaded their fingers together and dropped them to his thigh. Up high. Close to his stirring groin.

“Do you think I’ve ever proposed to a woman before?”

She bit her lip, her eyes wide. Dio, he loved her eyes. He could spend eternity looking into her eyes. “The answer is no. I haven’t. Not even in the heat of the moment. Not when I won races or came out of the tube needing sex more than I needed to breathe. Only with you. Do you think I ever brought another woman to this home? The answer is no. Only you. I haven’t had one in this bed. Just you. I haven’t touched another woman sexually when she was in the ropes. Just you. By taking you to Ferraro territory I declared my intentions for everyone to see, and that was before the heat of the moment.”

She pressed her lips together, her gaze never leaving his. Her lashes fluttered, drawing his attention. Long and dark, they curled, feathery soft and so feminine around her eyes. He brought her hand up to his mouth, kissed her knuckles and brought it back to his thigh. His cock jerked hard at the close proximity. He wanted to point out that even his cock recognized her but kept that to himself.

“I have your engagement and wedding rings in my nightstand. I wanted to ask you properly.”

Her head went up. “That’s impossible. Any ring on a rider must be specially made, just like our clothes. There’s only one jeweler . . . Damian.” Her voice dropped almost to reverence when she named the store. Damian Ferraro used his first name for his famous designs.

“One of my cousins.”

“Even so, it takes forever to get anything from him. He also makes regular jewelry and his designs are exclusive and sought-after. He couldn’t possibly have designed a ring and gotten it to you in that short amount of time.”

Her voice was a challenge, and it made him smile. Keeping her hand on his thigh, he leaned over and opened the nightstand drawer to take out a box. “You can’t wear gems in the tube. Only this alloy.” He took out the small jewelry box and flipped it open with his thumb.

Mariko drew back when he pushed it across the short distance. For a moment, she continued to look at his face, and then her gaze dropped to the ring. His cousin was a renowned jeweler, his designs so sought-after, celebrities, multimillionaires and kings and queens from other countries went to him for a personal piece of jewelry.

His cousin Damian had a gift. He could design the perfect piece of jewelry that suited an individual. His wedding rings were so sought-after that you had to go to him years in advance to get an individual piece. Each one of the Ferraros had gone to him when they turned twenty-five, knowing they would have to marry whether or not they found the love of their lives. It was a tradition in their family.

In truth, he’d been upset when he saw the rings Damian had designed for him. He watched as Mariko slowly picked up the box and stared down at the rings. Both were bands. The engagement ring was wider than the wedding band. The wide band had two Japanese swords carved into the metal. They were exquisitely detailed, the hilts ornate. Twisted into the hilts of both swords was the Ferraro family crest. Inside had been carved Sempre la vostra spada e scudo. Always your sword and shield.

He’d thought his cousin was insane and he’d locked the rings away, never showing them to his family. Now he understood why everyone thought Damian was such a genius. His gift was to know exactly what his client needed long before the client did. Ricco knew he would always be both a sword and a shield for Mariko. He would always be her samurai warrior. Always.

“Do you understand?” He’d had to apologize to Damian when he’d sent the ring to be sized. “I’ve made mistakes, Mariko, far too many. I’m no saint and I never will be. I like sex, lots of it. I’m not going to pretend I don’t, but my entire focus is on you.”

Deliberately he moved her hand to his cock, wrapping her fingers around the thick, very hard shaft. She didn’t try to pull her hand away, rather she gripped him tightly. His hand around hers kept her there. It was heaven and hell all rolled into one. Her palm burned like a brand. He wanted her with every breath he took, but he forced himself to be still. It was Mariko who started the slow glide. She moved her thumb over the broad head of his cock, smearing the leaking drops so that the glide was smooth as she pumped up and down almost lazily. It was enough to kill any man.

“What if you get tired of me, Ricco? You know that’s a possibility. One woman isn’t going to satisfy you for the rest of your life, and I’m not a woman to cheat on. Nor would I want you miserable.”

“I can understand your fears, Mariko.” Dio, how could he think when her fingers were dancing up and down his shaft, and then her fist squeezed him so tightly it robbed him of breath. “But truly, really listen to the answer. You hear truth. I can’t lie to you, nor would I have a reason to do so. I want only you. I fell in love with you almost from the moment you walked into the interview. Every moment spent in your company has deepened what I felt until I know with absolute certainty that I love you and you are the only woman I want in my life.”

Her hand stopped moving, although her fist remained tight. Her eyes stared directly into his. “You never told me you loved me.”

“I did. In a thousand ways. With my ropes.”

Her eyes widened and her hand tightened. He held his breath. He needed her to move that hand. Every cell in his body was tuned to that one body part. He could count his heartbeats there. He knew she could, too.

“You never told me in words.”

“I laid myself bare to you, Mariko.” He said it quietly. She couldn’t deny it. He had.

“The Lacey twins? Two women at one time?”

He said nothing because he was guilty as hell and he couldn’t take it back. He could try to explain the need to run all the time, to get rid of the rage in him. How he needed the adrenaline rush every moment of his existence to just live. He’d lived and played hard. He’d done so in the spotlight. There was nothing he could do about it now.

“I don’t share well with others,” she whispered.

“Neither do I. I can’t change my past, Mariko, but I can promise you my future. My word is good.”

She began that slow pump again, moving her tight fist up and down, sending waves of heat rushing through his body to his veins, spreading it like a slow drug through his entire system.

“Are you going to marry me?” His fingers bunched in the sheet. Dio, he was already as hard as a rock.

“Probably.” She was no longer looking at him, but at his cock.

His shaft jerked hard at her long contemplation, leaking more drops for her to smear around. She’d increased the tempo.

“That’s not an answer. Fucking say yes before I lose my mind.”

“Don’t swear at me.” A ghost of a smile curved her mouth and he found it as sexy as hell.

“I didn’t swear at you.” How in hell was he going to convince her when he no longer had a brain? He dragged the sheet slowly from her body, using his fingers to bunch it and then push it down so he had access to her. He circled her ankle with his fingers and then stroked up her leg to her thigh, applying pressure, a silent command to part her legs.

Mariko sat up straight, her back to the headboard, her eyes on his, hand still working him. Very slowly she parted her thighs and then let her knees fall open, watching him with that sexy little smile on her face. She was deliberately taunting him. Playing with fire. He closed his eyes briefly, savoring his victory. She was already wet and slick, wanting him the way he wanted her. The evidence of his earlier possession was there to remind him to be careful of her. He loved how she looked, there on the bed, her breasts jutting toward him, her hair a wild mess of tousled waves, her legs spread open, her sex glistening. All for him.

“Say yes, farfallina mia.” Just to be certain, he pushed his finger into her hot entrance, stroking and caressing, spreading small circles around her clit.

“Are you going to be a crazy man? Race cars? Play cards? Get into trouble?”

He couldn’t help smiling. “Yes. But you’ll be there with me.” He could do wicked, sinful things with his fingers–and he did. He wasn’t above seducing her into saying yes, although he’d already read her consent when she’d opened her thighs to him.

“I suppose someone has to take you on,” she said. “I’m strong, I guess it should be me.” She moved her hips in rhythm with the two fingers he was moving in and out of her. Her fist kept that same beat, so tight around his throbbing cock.

“You could be a little more enthusiastic,” he pointed out, adding his thumb to the stroking rhythm. He used it against her clit, watching the color flush her skin and her breasts heave with the effort to get air.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” She gave him a wide-eyed, innocent stare. “Am I doing it wrong?”

She gripped him harder, pumping his cock at an increased pace. He lost his own breath and knew he wasn’t going to last. It was a combination of the way she looked, knowing she was his, and her hand that continually moved, fingers busy, fist so fucking tight he was losing all control.

He caught her ankles, yanked her toward him, and flipped her over all in one decisive move. She gave a little laughing yelp, fisting the sheets as he caught her hips and jerked them back and up, forcing her onto her knees. One hand on her back kept her head to the pillow. He almost came just looking at her bottom, up in the air, waiting for him. Once again, he knelt behind her, spreading her thighs ruthlessly, knowing she was in superb physical shape and could stretch a good distance.

“Amore.” He groaned the endearment. “Can you reach over and get one of the condoms out of the drawer?” He should have been prepared.

“I’m on birth control. It’s a mild one to regulate me, but it’s still birth control. If you’re clean . . .”

Dio. His heart clenched hard in his chest. She was so trusting. He knew he was clean, but she just gave herself to him. Trusted him with her body.

“Are you certain, Mariko?” More than anything he wanted to be inside her with nothing at all between them.

“I’m certain.”

His hand slid to cover her sex. She was hot. Damp. So ready for him. He didn’t wait, and this time he entered with one hard thrust. Her inner muscles protested, tried to keep him from invading, reluctantly giving way when he drove deep. At once he was surrounded with heat and fire. “You’re so fucking tight, amore.” He clenched his teeth against the streaks of fire racing up and down his body, radiating from his groin.

Mariko’s breath hissed out of her as Ricco all but slammed her to the bed. He was stronger than she’d ever imagined a man could be, his hands always sure when he touched her. He liked touching her nearly as much as she liked him doing it. When he jerked her hips up and back toward him, her body had gone liquid with need. Her skin felt hot and her breasts ached, nipples on fire against the cool of the sheets.

His hands stroked her back, down her spine, and rubbed her bottom. All the while his cock pistoned into her, every stroke hard and dominant. She’d loved how gentle he’d been the first time, his touch reverent, almost as if he worshiped her with every caress. This was different, a wild, almost abandoned taking of her.

He reached places he hadn’t before, his cock sliding heavily over the bundle of sensitive nerves, sending streaks of fire racing through her body. The tension inside her wound higher and higher, tighter and tighter. Her breath came in little sobs. Her breasts ached, nipples brushing back and forth on the sheets with every forceful thrust. It was glorious. Beautiful. So perfect.

He leaned over her back, repositioning. A little cry escaped her throat. So good. She’d never known anything could be so good. He drove out the voices in her head, the ones that argued reasonably that leopards didn’t change their spots. The voices that told her she would never be enough woman for a man like Ricco.

Ricco showed her, in so many ways, that he wanted her–Mariko Majo, the female devil. How could he touch her with such beauty? Even in his wild, his touch was all about love. She felt that, and there weren’t any shadows connecting them together. She felt his love with every stroke of his cock. The way he put her pleasure before his own. Every time he changed position it took her higher. When she gasped because the pressure inside her grew until she feared she would lose all control, he leaned into her and whispered into her ear.

“Let go for me, farfallina mia. Fly. Fly with me.”

He reached down and found her clit. The relentless stroking of his cock, pushing his way through her tight folds, the feel of it, strong and male, the connection, making it so they shared the same skin, all came together with the realization that Ricco Ferraro had showed her things he’d never showed another woman. He’d told her things he’d never told another woman. He allowed himself to be as vulnerable as she was. He’d given her power over him. He’d told her he loved her, and she hadn’t said it back.

The feelings were overwhelming, turbulent love and lust mixed together until she couldn’t separate the two. She pushed back against him with a little half sob of pure happiness, her muscles locking around him, squeezing down like a vise as his cock pistoned into her, spreading flames everywhere. She felt him swell, pushing against her sensitive muscles even as the fiery friction sent her hurtling over the edge.

She screamed. In her entire life, she’d never screamed over anything. It wasn’t done. Certainly not with such abandon, but the sound was wrenched from her as the fire consumed her. She felt the hot splashes of his release deep inside her and then he collapsed over top of her. His arms held her tight, his body crushing hers.

Still on her knees, head down, she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. His eyes were on her. Dark desire was stamped into his hard features and every sensual line of his face, but there in his eyes, she could see love. She’d never seen it before. Not ever. She hadn’t recognized it for what it was, but now it was so plain to her. She smiled at him.

“I can’t move.” She couldn’t. She was exhausted, her body feeling like a wet noodle. “If they come for us tonight, you’ll have to do all the fighting. I’ll watch and cheer you on.”

His smile was slow, genuine and beautiful. So beautiful, what little breath she had in her lungs rushed out.

“That might be difficult, amore. I can’t move, and we’re attached.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it, and the sound startled her. He’d given her so many beautiful moments. So many things she’d never expected to have. Lying on his bed, surrounded by his body, his arms tight around her, the feel of his hair sliding over the bare skin of her back, it was all surreal. Perfection.

“You have to find your rings. They were somewhere

on the bed.” Ricco turned his head to survey the sheets.

“In my hand,” she said and lifted her fist from the sheets to show him the little box had been guarded carefully.

He pressed kisses down her spine, making her shiver. He gripped her hips suddenly, as he was withdrawing. “Mariko. I don’t want this to be over.” Once more he laid his head on her back, just holding her. “I don’t suppose you could go to sleep like this.”

Laughter bubbled up and she shook her head. He eased out of her, the movement triggering another ripple of pleasure mixed with muscles burning a bit in protest. She gasped and rolled over as he sank back to his heels.

Ricco caught her ankle as she drew up her knees. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“There it is. The other thing women say that is total bullshit. If it was ‘nothing’ you wouldn’t have gotten that particular look on your face.”

She found herself smiling. Feeling happy. Shocked at the realization that despite the circumstances with why and how they met, she was happy when she was with him. She loved that he paid attention. “When you moved, I had another mini-orgasm that was really, really nice and at the same time realized I was a little sore.” There. She’d told him the truth and managed not to turn beet red. She was a bit of a rose color, but not lobster red.

He rolled off the bed in one smooth motion, coming to his feet. “Stay right there. If you don’t, I’m going to find other uses for my ropes than decorative art.”

She let him get to the door of the master bathroom before she answered. “You’ve already found other uses for them and we both like it.” That was daring of her, but she liked teasing him.

He paused at the door, looking back at her. His cock jerked and he fisted it. “Woman, you’re going to kill me.” He gave her a wicked grin and then disappeared into the bathroom. “You need to soak in the tub. I don’t want you so sore we can’t continue.”

A bath sounded nice, but really, she was just too tired. She closed her eyes and let herself drift.

Ricco tested the water, making certain it wasn’t going to be too hot, but he needed it hot enough to soothe her body. When he returned to the room, she was sound asleep, curled up on her side by the edge of the bed. His rings were on the nightstand, still in the jewelry box. He took the engagement ring out and slipped it on her finger.

She stirred, her lashes fluttering, and then she was looking at him. As it always did when their eyes met, his stomach performed a strange flip. She was magic. He knew he was the only one responsible for his happiness, but finding Mariko certainly went a long way toward helping.

“Come on, cara, bath time.”

“You take a bath,” she murmured sleepily. “I’m going to sleep.”

She looked sexy lying on the silk sheets, her hair spilling everywhere, her naked body curled up like a sleepy kitten. He reached down and picked her up easily, cradling her against his chest. Had she been more awake he would have slung her over his shoulder and carried her off like a pirate hoisting treasure just to hear her laugh again. He loved the sound of her laughter.

“Bath, then sleep,” he said decisively.

“Oh no.” She gripped his shoulder looking alarmed. “I’m full of you. Of us. And it’s leaking everywhere.”

“I like you full of me and us.” He stepped into the bath and lowered his body until he was sitting, legs stretched out, Mariko on his lap.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and turned her face into his shoulder. “This is nice. I don’t mind this at all. But I’m going to sleep.”

“Are we good, Mariko? Is my past going to haunt us?” He knew uncertainty was in his voice. He certainly needed her far more than the other way around, which put him at a disadvantage. He didn’t care if she knew. He wanted her to be happy. “Is there anything else we need to put to rest?”

She tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “I choose to believe you, Ricco. That you love me and that you’re certain I am the one for you. I choose to believe you will always feel that way. Love doesn’t seem to work out for so many people, and I’m scared. I’m not going to pretend I’m not, but I don’t know what’s good or bad in a relationship. I’m going on faith and you’re the person I choose to have faith in.”

Her sincerity humbled him. Every moment in her company only made him love her more. “I can only promise you that I’ll try every single day to be a man you can be proud of.”

She reached up and traced his lips with her fingertip. “I love being with you, Ricco.”

“Why?” He couldn’t imagine why a woman like Mariko would choose him, with his past and his failures.

“Aside from the fact that you’re very, very good at what you do”–she swept her hand down to encompass her body–“you’re the best man I know.”

“You can’t have known very many,” he protested.

“Not in the biblical sense,” she agreed, teasing him. “But I’m a rider. I’ve seen things.”

He liked the teasing note in her voice. “What countries did you travel to when you were training?” He’d been curious about that from the beginning, as had Stefano. The investigators found few riders able to give any information on Mariko outside of Japan, which was unusual.

“I wasn’t allowed to travel to other countries. The council followed Osamu’s advice. She believed I’d dishonor the riders of our country and they took her word that I was . . . difficult.”

“Difficult?” he prompted, trying to hold at bay the building rage on her behalf.

She squirmed. “I don’t like talking about Osamu’s opinion of me.”

“It is only her opinion,” he pointed out. “The council should have done an investigation if they were worried. That’s their responsibility.” Every muscle in his body wanted to tighten up, but he forced himself to stay relaxed.

“Dai was the adviser, along with Isamu. Isamu is Osamu’s brother. They both backed up her opinion and the council dropped it. They refused to send me for training outside the country due to the fact that I might bring disgrace and dishonor down on our riders.”

There was no bitterness in her voice, but he could taste it in his own mouth. “I should have followed up, Mariko. I believed them when they told me a family had taken the two of you in because, of course, there was truth in their voices. Still, I should have asked who the family was and insisted on seeing you.”

She shook her head, the silky strands of her hair tickling his skin and sending shock waves through him. He’d always had a strong sex drive, but now it seemed doubly so. More, he was utterly aware of her at all times. The way the water lapped at her breasts. How they floated, the pink areolas framing her nipples, drawing his attention. The thatch of curls at the apex of her legs, the curve of her body, so feminine. All of her. Every inch of her.

“How silly, Ricco. You always try to take on too much. What fourteen-year-old boy would ask beyond if we were safe? Especially when he was being threatened. You saved us. What happened after that is not on you. It wasn’t all bad. I had a roof over my head and food to eat. I was allowed to train as a rider and I excelled at it–enough that Osamu couldn’t stop me or interfere. I had a space that was mine and I could read of faraway places. And I had Ryuu.”

Her brother. He kept his worries to himself. “Kiss me.”

Her head came up. “What?”

“Kiss me. I need you to kiss me.” He ached for her taste.

“If I kiss you, that might lead to other things, and I’m so tired I’d fall asleep and miss it all,” she teased.

His eyebrow shot up. “Fall asleep? When I’m making love to you?”

“It could happen.”

“It could never happen.” He growled and bit her neck.

Laughing, she caught his head between her hands and brought it up. Leaning into him, she brushed kisses over his eyes. “I haven’t told you yet . . .” She kissed his nose and along his rough jaw. “Thank you for my beautiful ring.” She kissed the corners of his mouth and then brushed her lips back and forth over his.

It was tantalizing. Sexy. His overactive cock stirred to life. Just at her touch. Her teeth nipped at his lower lips and she shifted position, still in his arms, straddling him, pressing her breasts against his chest as her teeth bit down and drew his lip out and then let go so she could use her tongue over the small sting.

Groaning, he reached between them to grasp his cock in his fist, right at the base, with one hand. With the other, he guided her hips so that he could lodge the broad head in her. With both hands, he gripped her hips and pushed her down while he surged up. There it was . . . home. He drove through those tight muscles, slick with the two of them, hot as hell, an inferno he welcomed, more, he needed.

Once she was fully seated on him, her sheath pulsing around him, so tight he could count her heartbeats through his shaft, he bunched her hair in his fist and pulled her head back. “You’re teasing me.”

“I am,” she admitted.

He took her mouth. Hard. Dominant. Sweeping her into another level of his world. Sex could be many things and he wanted to show them all to her. Tender, wild, rough, it didn’t matter, not as long as she trusted him and she tasted love on his tongue and felt it in everything his body did to hers.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when his woman matched him, fire for fire. There was no holding back from her; she kissed him, using her tongue, following his lead, sending flames flickering down his spine and heat rushing through his veins. Of her own accord, without his urging, she began to move, riding him as if she’d been doing it for a hundred years. She was grace and fluidity, undulating her body so that he could feel every ripple, every vibration.

She reached behind her and planted both hands on his thighs so her breasts jutted temptingly, giving him a show as she rode him. Slow at first, and then when he thought he might have to take over, she picked up the pace. Water lapped at his skin, giving him the sensation of tongues on him. He cupped the soft weight of her breasts in his palms, thumbs brushing, watching her skin flush. He tugged at her nipples, gently, watching her reaction.

Those tight inner muscles squeezed him like a vise as scorching heat saturated him. He tugged again, this time harder, a little rough. Her body clamped down on

him and she moved faster, obviously close.

She threw back her head. “Again,” she demanded.

He did as she requested, tugging and rolling, alternating gentle and rough.

She rode him hard, her body so tight around his cock, the friction was nearly unbearable. Watching her get herself off on him was one of the sexiest things he’d ever seen.

She moaned, her breath hitching then coming in ragged pants. “More. Harder.”

“Use your hand at your clit,” he instructed and waited to oblige her until she had obliged him.

He watched her hand slide between her legs, felt her fingers seeking her target and then heard her breath hiss as she stroked and pulled. He tugged and rolled her nipples and then began to match her rhythm, surging into her as she came down over him. The beauty of her stretched out on a rack of pleasure, desperate for release, would be forever branded in his memory.

Her mouth opened. Her eyes went hazy. Her skin was flushed. Her sheath clamped down on his in a vicious grip, forcing his cock to swell. Dio. He clenched his teeth. His breath rushed out of his lungs in a long symphony of guttural sound.

His warrior woman was utterly abandoned, grinding down, taking him with her, forcing his cock to give her what she wanted–wringing every drop of his seed. Hot and vicious, it rocketed out of him in strong spurts as if she milked him ruthlessly. She cried out his name as she came, half sobbing, half shocked moans.

Mariko collapsed against him, her arms around his neck, her head on his shoulder, breasts pressed into his chest. He held her to him, so overwhelmed with love for her that he couldn’t speak. He had it all in her. A partner. A woman willing to be his friend and have his back, as she had when he’d been injured in the streets of Ferraro territory. A rider to help defend the helpless. An extraordinary lover, one willing to match his passion and his adventurous ideas outside the norm of sexual boundaries. As ferocious as she was, she was still willing to accommodate him and even enjoy the sessions in his studio when he needed to practice Shibari to ground him. She was willing to take that further and incorporate it into their lovemaking.

“I love you, Mariko Majo Tanaka.”

“Love you, too.” She sounded very sleepy, already drifting.

He nuzzled the top of her head, liking the way the dark bristle on his jaw tangled with the blond silk of her hair.

“Marry me soon.”

“Hmm?”

His hand slid down her back, following her spine to the curve above her buttocks. He stroked caresses there and felt her relax more. “Marry me soon.”

“Okay.” Her lips brushed his collarbone.

Just that small, intimate gesture shocked him. He was sated for the time being. Still deep inside her, still sharing her skin. Connected to another human being as he’d never been–not just physically but emotionally.

“Give me your word of honor.”

Her lips curved. He felt her smile imprinted in his skin. He loved that. Wanted more.

“You don’t want much, do you?”

The drowsy note in her voice sent heat shimmering like sheet lightning through his veins. He was done. She’d taken everything he had–for the moment–and yet he was still thinking about sex. That made him smile. He leaned his head against the back of the tub and closed his eyes.

“Promise me, farfallina mia.” He murmured it softly, tightening his hold on her.

“Yes.”

It was so soft that he almost didn’t hear. “When I say.”

He felt her laughter like a melody of soft notes against his skin. The rain poured on the roof, ran down the windows. Steam rose around them, enclosing them. Enfolding them. He waited. She wasn’t quite asleep, but she gave him most things he wanted. He really wanted her promise. Mariko wouldn’t break her word to him, and he had a bad feeling that things might not go well with her brother.

The feeling had been growing for some time. He knew Stefano had that same gut intuition he had. He didn’t want to chance losing her, not if things went horribly wrong. Too much time had gone by and Ryuu had been gone far too long for the outcome to be very good.

“You always want your way.”

He loved that voice, drowsy, sexy, drifting in a sex-induced exhaustion.

“I do.” He reached down to release the plug and let out the water. As much as he didn’t want to move, the water was growing cold, and he needed sleep, too.

“Okay.”

“Say you promise.” He stood, using the strength in his legs to stand them both up. Reluctantly, he had to allow his body to slip out of hers. “Grip the edge of the tub for me. It won’t take a minute and I’ll get you in bed.”

She didn’t protest or even open her eyes. She leaned over and grabbed the edge of the bathtub. Very gently he washed her, enjoying the task of taking care of her, grateful that she allowed it, extremely grateful that she wasn’t shy with him. He wrapped a towel around her and carried her to the bed, drying her off quickly before putting her in the middle of the sheets again.

“Mariko. Don’t go to sleep without promising me.”

“You’re a badger. You’re badgering.”

She turned on her side, curling her body, looking delicious. He knew he would always look forward to the times they went to bed. He hoped he’d never fall asleep first, just so he could have these moments when she was drifting off, goofy as hell, adorable and all his.

He laughed softly. “I can keep it up for hours. Better to give in now.”

“Fine.”

He knew she deliberately used that word because she lifted her head and gave him a quelling look. Laughing, he slid into bed, curled his body around hers and drew up the sheet. “I’ll take that ‘fine’ as your promise, amore.” He wrapped his arm around her, cupping one breast in his palm. “Go to sleep. We’re getting on a plane in a few hours.”

She pushed back into him, her only answer, and then she was perfectly relaxed, already asleep.