Samurai Game (Ghostwalkers, #10)(76)
His hands followed the gossamer lines of her spiderweb. He could feel the ridges of the scars beneath his fingertips. He turned his head so that his mouth was against her ear. “I’m going to take my time eating you like candy.”
Her breath hitched again as his fingers danced over the spider and rolled her nipples, tugging and teasing as he briefly indulged himself in the body she’d so generously offered him. Reluctantly he left her enticing breasts to slip his hands over her flat belly. She had a washboard stomach beneath her soft woman’s skin. He soaped the tiny little curls guarding her treasures before he urged her thighs apart.
His hands were big and her thighs small. A surge of male pride shook him. She had given herself to him, put herself into his hands and willingly cast her fate with his. She was an extraordinary woman and yet she had chosen to trust her heart, mind, and body to him. His hand cupped the vee between her legs, a deliberate sensual touch, a brand of ownership in his own way. He didn’t dare linger too long. Small pearly drops beaded the head of his cock, and with every breath he drew, he wanted her more.
She was definitely as aroused as he was, her breasts rising and falling and her inner thighs slick with her welcoming cream. He soaped her slender legs carefully, memorizing the shape and feel of her. He wasn’t surprised that under all that soft, glorious skin were muscles of steel. Yeah, that was his woman, beautiful, sensual, and as lethal as hell.
He took his time just as she had done, careful with her small feet, noting every single scar on her body and inwardly cursing Dr. Whitney for treating her like a lab rat. She’d been less than human to him, and yet, to Sam, she was everything. He turned off the shower and carefully set aside the sponge and wand.
“Now we must cleanse our spirits, Sammy,” she said softly, again almost shyly. She took his hand and tugged him toward the steaming water in the deep, two-person tub.
He had bought the large bathtub to accommodate his size, but now he was very grateful it would hold both of them. She climbed in, giving him an excellent view of the perfection of her butt. He didn’t try to stop himself from cupping her buttocks, his thumb sliding possessively over one smooth cheek. She didn’t protest, but instead, smiled at him over her shoulder as she stepped into the very hot water and scooted to the far side to give him room. She drew up her knees and waited, her dark gaze on his body.
Sam settled into the hot water with a soft sigh. His body instantly surrendered to the heat, steam, and soothing aroma. He stretched out his legs and rested his head against the high end of the back, allowing peace and tranquillity to settle over him. He lay quietly, her legs over his, small feet resting on his thighs. He watched her through narrowed eyes. She allowed her head to loll back as well, her eyes closed, peace surrounding her.
“Open your mind to mine,” he ordered softly.
Her lashes fluttered, but she didn’t open her eyes, merely complied, pouring into him to fill him up with sweet serenity. They drifted together in a slow tangle of heat, sensuality, and tranquillity. The sensation sent him to a place he’d never been, melded together with her, entwined in spirit rather than in body. The water lapped softly at his skin and he felt every knot unravel until he was boneless. Neither spoke; they didn’t need to, not with their minds so tightly welded together in peaceful oblivion.
Her mind moved in his and he opened his eyes to find her looking at him with slumberous, sexy eyes.
He smiled at her. “Is there more to this ritual of yours? I think this will be my favorite part of the day.” There was more, he could see it in her eyes. He didn’t think, he knew. She had given him the best evening of his life and he hadn’t even made love to her yet.
She nodded her head in the unhurried way she had and drew up her knees to allow him out of the tub. She’d left two large bath towels lying folded neatly on the shelves beside the tub. He climbed out first, caught up a towel and then swung back to her, his gaze hot as he rubbed the towel over his wet skin.
“If I forget to tell you later, thank you for this night. You’ve made me feel as if I truly have a home.” He wrapped the towel low on his hips.
She looked around the spacious bathroom and then back to him. “I feel as if this is my home,” she admitted. “The moment I entered, I felt safe and secure. I felt as if I belonged. I’m glad you enjoy the things that are important to me. I wish to make my rituals yours and yours mine.”
How could pleasing her not be important to him? He crooked his finger at her and she rose gracefully from the water, a beautiful mythical phoenix rising from the ashes of her past to embrace the future. She walked to him unafraid, unashamed of the small, fractured body tattooed to cover the scars. When she moved, the tattoos moved with her, rippling as if alive. Those fine gossamer threads shimmered in the soft candlelight, playing across her skin and accenting her small waist and small breasts. That little spider moved, as if challenging him to catch it.
When she stood in front of him, he wrapped a thick towel around her body and dried her body gently. “Show me the next step, Azami,” he encouraged, nuzzling her slender neck.
She took his hand and tugged him toward the bedroom. His heart tripped a little. He loved her confidence, the way her body moved sensuously beneath the towel, and he couldn’t wait to take those pins from her hair and let it fall around her face. She looked all woman, yet she walked without a whisper of movement, placing her feet automatically and lightly on the floor. He could tell it was a reflex with her to test her footing and memorize floor plans. He would bet his life that she could describe in detail everything in his house and exactly where it was placed. How many men had a woman like that?