“That wasn’t a lie when I told you the scar on your arm is the Japanese symbol for my name.”
“I know. I only said that to hurt you.”
“It worked.” He briefly closed his eyes and shuddered. “I’ve been in fucking misery since you left.”
“Hold still while I pull this over your head.” Amery froze once she’d removed his shirt. Her first glimpse of the mass of bruises on his torso made her gut clench. “Oh, sweetheart. Look at you. Why did you do this to yourself?”
“Pain made me forget.”
Just for a moment, she rested her cheek above his heart. “Crawl in before the pain meds knock you out.”
He gritted his teeth and pulled himself onto the bed.
Amery curled up beside him, watching him closely until he’d fallen asleep.
But she was too keyed up to stare at the ceiling or to listen to him breathe. Happy as she was he was resting, the day’s events had only muddied the waters and postponed their long-overdue conversation. Restless, she slipped out of bed and wandered through his apartment.
With the bright moon and the temperate night, she would’ve loved to sit by the pool. But with her luck, she’d screw up the elevator if she tried to get to the roof. So her entertainment choices were staring out the windows or watching TV.
She flipped through channels for what seemed like hours and then drifted off.
That’s when the dreams started in again, and she didn’t have the mental energy to fight to stay awake.
Some nights the dreams were so sex-fueled she rolled toward his side of the bed, searching for the warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, the familiarity of his hands. Only to feel an empty spot beside her. Then the longing was so potent she cried into her pillow upon awakening.
Some nights the dreams were sensual, featuring a cloaked figure wielding ropes. Although she never saw his face, Ronin’s mesmerizing voice drifted from beneath the black hood. He praised her bravery and beauty as he tied her in elaborate configurations.
But tonight the dream took a different turn. She was naked and gagged, suspended above the floor.
Loud circus music distorted the silence. Then Ronin appeared with a flourish, dressed as a ringmaster.
She dangled above his head, out of reach, bound with black ropes that abraded her skin, but he didn’t acknowledge her. Applause surrounded them, and he took bow after bow—deep, formal jujitsu bows. And every time he bent over to acknowledge the adoration, his mask would fall off. But just as quickly, a new one would appear.
It hit her like a fist to the stomach that she didn’t know this man at all. She shouted at him to cut her loose, but with the gag blocking her mouth, no sound came out at all.
That’s when she woke up. She blinked at the strobelike effect coming from the TV and had a flash of panic. Where was she?
Then she remembered.
Ronin’s.
She ran a hand through her hair. Jesus. Talk about fucked up. Amery didn’t buy into a lot of the new-age stuff, yet the dream unsettled her. The symbolism in it touched on too many of her fears about Ronin to merely be nonsensical.
Although she returned to his bedroom to check on him, she couldn’t sleep with him. Not until they talked about everything that’d been hanging in the balance the last few weeks. So she slept on the couch.
• • •
THE next morning Amery crept into Ronin’s bedroom to check on him. Judging by his peaceful expression, it looked like he did rest better in his own bed. Or maybe he’d doubled up on his pain pills. He hadn’t moved from the bed in fourteen hours.
You needed it, baby.
Amery placed a soft kiss on his forehead and tiptoed from the room.
After brewing a pot of coffee, she wandered through the penthouse, unsure what to do with herself. That’s how she found herself in front of the door to his practice room, wondering if he’d used it in the last few weeks. Prior to their split, Ronin had become more aggressive in his efforts to sway her into being his rope model for club demos.
She rested her forehead against the cool wood, her hand on the doorknob, her heart pounding crazily as the vivid memory of the last time she’d been in the practice room surfaced.
“I want to do a suspension binding on you.”
Amery had looked at Ronin with alarm. “Hanging me from hooks and stuff? Like a slab of meat?”
Then he wrapped his long, strong fingers around her throat and lower jaw, guaranteeing her undivided attention. “No. Like a piece of art. Like beauty suspended in time.”
The intensity in his eyes had overwhelmed her to the point she’d felt her knees start to buckle.
“Do not move.”
After she’d found her balance, Ronin had merely said, “You don’t usually wilt at the first sign of heat, baby. Talk to me.”
“I don’t understand the suspension part of kinbaku. Why it appeals to you.”
“Or why it frightens you,” he countered.
Amery stared at him, this man who pushed her limits, this man who seemed to see right into the heart of her and refused to let her hide from herself. “It scares me to think I’ll be dangling from the ceiling naked.”
“I can assure you the riggings are completely safe. But it’s not the riggings that worry you.”
“No. It’s the impersonal aspect of suspension that freaks me out. Maybe it’s stupid to base that fear on the images I’ve seen in your bondage books.”
“Neither how you feel or your fears are ever stupid.” He gentled his hold and stroked his thumb along her jawline. “It’s never impersonal when I bind you. The only way I can allay your fears is to show you. Will you trust me?”
She didn’t respond immediately.
Ronin let her be indecisive. He didn’t push. Or cajole. Or guilt her. He just continued to hold her in place, treating her to that maddeningly erotic stroking motion of his thumb.
Only when she softly said, “Yes,” did his demeanor change.
He devoured her mouth, taking, conquering. He pulled away long enough to say, “Clothes off. Hair down.”
She stripped slowly, needing the power in the moment when she bared herself to him.
As soon as she was naked, he centered his hand on her belly, signaling for her calmness. He murmured, “Beautiful,” and placed a single, soft kiss on her lips. Then he stripped to the waist, laying his gi top over her clothing, another simple sign he’d shelter and protect her.
“Drop to your knees. Arms behind your back.”
It was hard to focus on her breathing and letting the anticipation fill her when she heard a door being opened and closed, followed by a squeaking sound.
Then Ronin knelt behind her and stroked her hair. “I’ve decided against a full tsuri—suspension—today. I will need to blindfold you for the position.”
Heart rate racing, mouth dry, she managed to nod.
Cloth covered her eyes. Ronin clasped her elbows and brought her to her feet. “I’m going to start binding you now.” After planting a tender kiss on her shoulder, he positioned her arms into an elbow clasp behind her. He wound the rope from elbow to elbow, but somehow left her hands free.
A loop circled her neck, and she stiffened up.
“For the chest harness,” he explained. “Your torso will bear the brunt of your weight, but the ropes will do the work.”