Samurai Game (Ghostwalkers, #10)(50)



Sam slipped out of his bed and again had that strange fading in and out moment, but it passed much more quickly than the first time. He padded over to her, towering over her much smaller figure. She didn’t flinch or give ground when his fingers slid over the ridges on her back, tracing the myriad of images, feeling the thick scar tissue beneath the impressive tattoo. Very gently he turned her around to face him, allowing him to view the spiderweb crawling across her body, rippling with every movement of her defined muscles.

He could see why a woman would look at the scars on her body and think she was destroyed. Clearly she’d had multiple surgeries and at least one heart surgery. Her soft, flawless skin made the scarring almost obscene. One breast was larger than the other, and a little lopsided, as if part had been carelessly cut away. Tattooed over the shiny scar, right beside her nipple, was a female red-backed spider. Sam leaned forward before he could stop himself and brushed a kiss over that spider. His lips skimmed her nipple, tongue curling for just one breathtaking moment along the dark peak before he lifted his head and looked into her eyes.

Azami stood very still, holding her shirt above her breasts, her eyes wide with shock. “You can’t possibly want me.”

Her voice was so low, so shocked, so incredulous, Sam couldn’t help but smile. He bent his head to hers. Lips inches from hers, he curved his hand around the back of her neck. “Honey, I’m totally naked, in case you hadn’t noticed. I think my wanting you can’t possibly be in question.”

Her gaze left his eyes, dropped low, and she inhaled audibly. His erection was long and thick and made no apologies for his desire for her. Her image as a woman was wrapped up in how she viewed her body. She didn’t realize that every inch of her scarred body, now covered in artwork, was testimony to her strength and spirit.

Sam tipped her face up with his thumb. It took a few seconds for her gaze to follow the lift of her face. Her eyes were wide, her long lashes fluttering a little, reminding him of feathery fans. “I’m going to kiss you, Azami, so if you have that dagger of yours handy, now might be a good time to use it if you’re so inclined,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers as he reminded her of their first kiss.

He captured her answering smile, and warm breath, as his mouth settled over hers. The world tilted and righted itself. Sam urged her closer to him. His body was naked and shamelessly demanding toward hers. She had forgotten to let go of the hem of her shirt, holding it across the top of her breasts while she melted into him, suddenly boneless.

His chest crushed the soft cushion of her breasts as he pulled her into him, his erection lodging just above her belly button. She felt fragile, and yet all muscle beneath her skin. The scars rasped against his cock, creating a friction he hadn’t expected. His breath exploded out of his lungs and he tightened his hold on her, afraid she’d try to escape when all around him the earth was shifting under his feet.

She tasted like a combination of flame and sex, a deadly mixture, a volatile cocktail rushing through his bloodstream and melting his mind. He knew he had dropped too far too fast and there was so much unresolved between them. They barely knew one another, but he was certain of the woman who had gone so courageously into battle with him. Kissing her over and over, his body as hard as a rock, need so urgent he could barely think, Sam allowed himself to just fall over the edge with her.

Azami gasped and pulled away from him, her hands finally letting loose of her hem to clutch at his neck for support. “I can’t breathe. You’ve made me so weak I can’t stand up,” she confided in a shy voice.

Sam took a deep breath, knowing his belly would protest, but he needed to reassure her. He lifted her, cradling her against his chest, a little surprised at how light she was when she was all firm muscle. “I’ve got you, honey. You’re safe with me.” He wanted her to feel safe with him. It was necessary to go slow, to get himself under control. “You’ve never been with a man, have you?” Kissing her had already told him she was untutored, an innocent in the ways between a man and a woman, and that meant he had to go slow, be very careful of her. She had a poor body image and doubts about her ability to be a woman.

Her father had been wonderful to her, loving and kind, and he made certain to give her the skills to survive in the world. He’d given her a sense of family, but inadvertently, he’d fostered the belief that no man would want her scarred body and freakishly white hair, by telling her she would live an honorable life as a warrior without her own man, and Azami believed that meant, once again, she wasn’t good enough.

Her long eyelashes fluttered again. “Did I do something wrong?” Her voice was filled with trepidation, but once again, she met his gaze squarely.

He let himself smile. “No, honey, you did everything right. I just have to take a breath myself here and do the right thing.”

“Which would be?” she prompted.

“Get in bed alone or get some clothes on. I have to talk to your brothers before we get into trouble.”

A slow smile teased the corners of her mouth and warmed her eyes. “Talking to my brothers could get you in trouble.”

“Maybe, but risking my life to tell them I want your hand in marriage is well worth it to me.” He set her on the bed and looked around for his jeans. His mind was still a little scattered and his body didn’t want to cooperate with his intellect. It took a moment to pull up his jeans and button a few buttons. The material felt stretched and uncomfortable, but at least she was safe—for the moment.

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