Samurai Game (Ghostwalkers, #10)(86)
He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot to signal great impatience as she began to methodically wash the tea utensils and bowls. She didn’t look at him, but kept her back to him, concentrating on the task at hand. He realized she really did pour herself into whatever task she was doing at the time. He waited in silence, secretly enjoying the flowing grace of her hands as she worked.
When she closed the wooden box and turned to him, leaning her back against the table, she smiled up at him. “Do you really want me so much?”
He reached past her to take the box from harm’s way and place it gently on the counter. “You have no idea, woman, but I’m about to show you.” He didn’t even care if he sounded as if he was threatening her. He needed some control here, and not in the way she was controlled.
He didn’t like the idea of her thinking of leaving him. He knew he could tie her to him if she just gave him a chance. He couldn’t be this sure and not be right.
“I don’t know the first thing about this,” she confided.
Sam stepped close to her, towering over her. “I do, Azami. Be sure this time because I won’t be able to take stopping in the middle of everything again. If you want me to use protection, we’ll do that. I have no worries about having a child with you, unless you’re afraid of your heart giving out. With or without children, I want to spend my life with you. So you tell me what you want.”
She looked up at him from under all those long, feathery lashes, sending his heart rate accelerating. “I held Daniel in my arms and rocked him to sleep and cried the entire time,” she admitted softly. “I want to try, but I’m afraid.”
He drew her into the shelter of his arms. “We’ll talk to Lily about this, Azami. She knows what it’s like to be afraid for her child. And Jack and Briony can help set your mind at ease as well.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “I had no idea I would have the choice to have a husband and perhaps a baby. My brothers told me of course it was possible and I should consider such a thing, but I won’t be with someone who doesn’t know what—and who—I am. I make no apologies for my need to stop Whitney. Experimenting on adults is monstrous enough, but children?” She shook her head. “I can’t let him continue.”
Sam lifted her, cradling her against his chest. She was featherlight, warm and soft. “I know you inside and out and I want every inch of you. I’ve made my mind up, Azami. I’ve thrown myself into the ring completely, and I’m in it for the duration.”
Azami lifted her fingers to his strong jaw. That beloved face. Those dark, serious eyes. All that curly hair. Hers. Was it possible? How had it even happened? She’d done such a terrible thing, going to bed with him and stopping him right in the middle of things. No one had ever made her feel as he did. Out of control—but in a good way. She hadn’t even known it was possible. Sam Johnson. She’d read everything she could about him in his files. Right from the moment she’d read his impressive education and his equally impressive missions, she’d been intrigued. She just hadn’t admitted it to herself.
“I am usually very good at making up my mind and sticking to my decisions,” she said.
Sam laughed, the sound slipping beneath whatever guard she might have left and teasing her senses into complete compliance. This man, behind closed doors, would always be hers. He opened up his mind and his heart to her. He made her feel beautiful and worthwhile. Even more, he treated her as a complete equal on the battlefield. He would always have protective instincts, but she liked that about him.
The house was dark other than the candles she’d lit in the bedroom, and Sam carried her close to him as he made his way unerringly through the house. The doorways were wide and ceilings high to accommodate his frame, but he moved in silence, reminding her he was as skilled as she was.
“We’d better never get into a huge fight,” she teased.
“That could be bad,” Sam agreed as he set her on the floor beside his bed. “I’m taking these pins out of your hair. Am I going to stab my finger on something and die from instant poisoning, because I need to see your hair down?”
He grasped an intricately painted porcelain hair pin and tugged. The long pin was a slender round cylinder, and when he pulled it loose, strands of hair fell like a waterfall down her back. The pin looked innocent enough, but he didn’t trust it. Azami looked innocent and she was a dangerous woman. He would bet his last dollar this work of art was very lethal.
Azami smiled at him and held out her hand. “The pins with cherry blossoms are used in up close fighting or perhaps a quick jab as one passes the enemy on the street. Just press twice and the needle is here.” She pointed to the end of the pin. “It would feel much like the sting of a tiny insect if felt at all and they are dead.”
“Woman.” Sam grinned at her, blood heating at the mere idea of her abilities. She was everything he’d ever dreamt of. “I think I’m fast becoming obsessed with you. What about this one?” He pulled a dark red pin from her hair. The porcelain was decorated with lacy leaves winding up the cylinder. “Dark red is for . . . ?”
“Blowgun. It works quite well up to about twenty-five feet. After that, no real accuracy, but handy in a pinch.” She placed the dark red pin carefully on the nightstand beside the cherry blossom pin.
He pulled another pin loose and more hair snaked down over her shoulder. This one was black with a golden dragon curling around it. “And this one?”