He removed the ropes.
Someone behind Amery said, “What’s going on?”
Another voice answered, “He’s dragging this out as he unties her and reties her differently. Then he’ll fuck her.”
Was this what Ronin had been doing the Saturday nights he’d been unavailable to her? Demonstrating his rope skills on women and then his skills as a dominant lover?
Her entire body seized up with shame. She’d trusted him. She’d had sex with him without a condom, for God’s sake.
Then Amery shut out the judgmental voice that’d been with her since childhood, reminding herself not to jump to conclusions.
She refocused on the stage as Ronin created a new rope configuration on the woman’s lower half. Smoothing his fingertips along the rope lining her belly and hips. He crafted knots that ran in a straight line down her abdomen, across her hips, over her mound, and between her legs.
But Ronin’s hand didn’t drop over the woman’s pussy. He tugged on the remaining rope as he instructed her. She turned around and spread her legs, showing everyone the rope work that framed her pussy and her anus, but left her completely accessible.
And Amery felt an entirely different type of jealousy. What would it be like to be that free and accepting of your own sexuality and your body? Not only in private, but in public as well?
“This kinbaku technique is called ‘exposing the cherry.’” Ronin affectionately ran his hand down the woman’s spine. He bowed to her and then to the audience. He nodded to Knox, who quickly joined him onstage.
Knox returned the bow and then lightly slapped the woman’s ass cheeks. She gasped in surprise.
The anticipation in the room increased. Especially when Knox hauled her upright and began kissing her nipples and fondling her breasts while his free hand pulled on the crotch harness, dragging the knot across her clitoris.
Amery tried to wrap her head around what she was seeing. When Knox directed the woman to unzip his fly and pushed her to her knees, she fled.
People had started to exit the demonstration room by the time Amery realized she’d zoned out in the middle of the hallway—afraid to go forward or back.
Then she spied the unmarked door at the end of the hallway. After she reached it, she paused, unsure if she should knock or just go in.
Quit being a chickenshit. He’s expecting you.
She turned the handle and stepped inside the room.
Ronin’s broad back was to her. He’d taken a shower since the familiar scent of his soap hung in the humid air and he’d changed clothes. He was so lost in thought he didn’t turn around until she clicked the door shut.
“Amery.”
Her name sounded beautiful coming from his sinful lips—almost like a benediction. Should she go to him? Her feet wanted to move but her brain screamed at her to be cool, to make him come to her. She’d already taken the first step by showing up at Twisted tonight.
Ronin combed his fingers through his damp hair. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too.”
“Are you okay?”
“No. I’m so not okay right now, Ronin. Not at all.” Despite her efforts to stay calm, she began to shake.
He crossed the room and crushed her to his chest. “Baby. Stop. Just breathe. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
She closed her eyes and clung to him. “Is it really?”
“Yes.” He whispered, “I’ve missed you,” into her hair.
“I missed you too.” Amery dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his back and burrowed deeper into the spot between his chest and chin that her head fit into perfectly.
After several glorious minutes of being in his arms, Ronin tipped her head back. “I know we need to talk. But first I need this.” His mouth came down on hers. Kissing her as if he might never get another chance.
Amery basked in the passion that ignited between them. Every kiss, every touch was filled with heat and promise.
“Come home with me,” he murmured. “We’ll talk all night and all day tomorrow if you want.” He pressed soft kisses down the side of her neck. “Please. I’m dying for you.”
“Yes.”
Ronin slowly released her. “Let’s get out of here.”
Amery scarcely remembered leaving the club. She wasn’t sure they spoke at all during the drive to his place.
Upon reaching his penthouse, she kicked off her shoes and Ronin reached for her. He traced the edge of the cotton material to the V of her cleavage. “I like you in my shirt.”
“I’m a little low on sex club wear. And I should change.”
“Don’t. You look great.” He took her hand and led her into the living room.
Amery sat on one end of the couch, facing the opposite end, with her feet in the middle cushion, putting some distance between them.
Ronin mimicked her position, but he immediately grabbed her foot and set it on the inside of his thigh. His fingers swept over her ankle bone and the back of her calf in a continual arc.
The man’s face gave nothing away, so the fact that he needed to touch her to establish a physical connection allowed her to relax. “I’m so sorry for the shitty things I said to you last Saturday.”
“I know you are.”
“Can you forgive me or will my knee-jerk reaction always be a sticking point between us?” When he didn’t immediately respond, another thing occurred to her. “I’m not the first woman to react that way, am I?”
“No. You’d think I would’ve learned my lesson. Or at least learned to have better timing.”
“Why did you pick Saturday night?”
Ronin’s dark eyes bored into hers. “Because you told me no boundaries and I ran with it.”
She had tossed that out. Why had she been so shocked he’d taken her bold words at face value?
Because you’re never reckless and you expected civility from a man who deals in violence.
“In retrospect . . .” He shook his head. “Just ask me the questions I see in your eyes.”
Unsure on how to phrase her question or issue or whatever the hell it was, Amery focused on her ragged cuticles.
But Ronin didn’t allow it. He moved closer. His warm fingers slid below her chin and he tilted her face up. “Don’t be shy with me, Amery.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the rope stuff from the start? If it isn’t a hobby and it’s part of who you are?”
“I’ve hidden a lot from you. I don’t blame you for wanting to get away from me.”
Amery watched as his features softened. And dammit, the vulnerable side of him softened something inside her.
“I’ve been training in martial arts every day for as long as I can remember. And by training, I don’t only mean the physical side, but the psychological aspect, the spiritual aspect, and the long-held traditions that are part of the discipline. Living the philosophy really kicked in when I sequestered myself at the monastery.”
“On a spiritual level?” she asked.
“To some extent. I immersed myself in training. Over the years I’d worked with swords, knives, sticks, every weapon at my disposal. To be honest, I wasn’t particularly skilled at any of them. I excelled at the hand-to-hand drills and utilizing pressure points to disable an opponent. So the idea of learning the ropes, so to speak, didn’t excite me.” He paused. “It surprised me when a rope in my hand felt natural and I picked up everything quickly.
“By the end of my second year of training, at age nineteen, I equaled my teacher in skill. He enlisted help from another rope master. His specialty was . . .” Ronin’s eyes met hers. “Shibari.”
“Did he demonstrate on you?”