The muscles in his back rippled, each sharp cut of flesh accentuating the sinew beneath his skin. His arms, those arms that held her every night, were corded and gleaming with sweat. Even with as many times as she’d seen her husband’s body, from this angle with this exercise, she had a whole new appreciation for his spectacular form.
That man is mine.
Then Master Daichi snapped, “Mata.”
Mata. That wasn’t stop—yamete meant “stop.” Amery looked at Yasuji with confusion and whispered, “What does mata mean?”
“Again.”
No way.
Ronin threw the metal bar up.
Holy fucking shit. Seeing him do this whole routine again with his shirt off? She almost came on the spot. Her body clenched—teeth, hands, stomach, pussy, and thighs. She couldn’t breathe. All she could do was stare. And lust after the beautiful man she’d married.
When Ronin reached the bottom rung again, he still didn’t dismount. Master Daichi circled him. Then she heard three sharp whacks and realized Sensei had hit Ronin on the front side of his body with his belt. He leisurely strolled around behind Ronin and grabbed a long pole that was out of Ronin’s line of vision. Before she could figure out what the sadistic bastard intended, the man smacked Ronin’s knuckles. Hard. Twice on each hand.
She expected to see Ronin hit the floor.
It wasn’t that she didn’t have faith in him, but he was exhausted and hanging on by a thread. It’d be a natural reaction to let go.
But not Master Black. He didn’t even flinch. Not even after four more hard raps on his knuckles.
Finally Master Daichi poked Ronin between the shoulder blades with the bamboo pole.
Ronin dismounted and stood very still, head bowed, arms behind his back military-style. But he couldn’t stop his shoulders from heaving as he struggled to find his balance and his breath.
It took every ounce of willpower Amery owned not to go to him. Not to snag the towel from the floor, drop to her knees, and tend to her man.
Yasuji cleared his throat.
Ronin didn’t move but his sensei peered over Ronin’s shoulder at his brother. His mouth snapped shut when he saw Amery.
That’s when Ronin turned. His eyes locked on to hers. He said nothing. Daichi said nothing. Tension thickened the air.
Then Amery gave him a little finger wave.
Yasuji laughed. “Excuse me, Ronin-san. I need to speak with my brother and we’ll give you a few moments with your wife.”
Master Daichi and Ronin bowed to each other and then Yasuji flanked the older man as they disappeared down a corridor.
Amery picked up the towel and stood close enough to dab the sweat from Ronin’s chest. “I hope you don’t mind that I showed up here. The suspense of where you’d been every day and what you’ve been doing was killing me.” She swept the towel across his shoulders, unable to keep her eyes from tracking the bulked-up state of his traps. “After I dropped off the muffins I’d baked, Yasuji insisted we visit the training center, even when I figured the ‘no observation’ rule was always in effect here.” She patted down his biceps and forearms. “So we stayed in the back and watched and . . .”
Ronin’s entire body quivered from the tension he’d placed on all his muscles.
The towel fluttered from her fingertips. She placed her palm over his heart and curled her other hand around the back of his neck. Then she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to where his pulse hammered in his throat. “I can’t do this.”
“Do what?” he asked softly.
“Play it cool. Act like seeing your hard-toned body with your hard-assed nature doesn’t affect me.”
“Affect you besides the way you’re babbling?”
She nodded.
“Tell me.”
Her fingers dug into his chiseled pectoral.
“Amery.”
“I want to drop to my knees and touch, stroke, lick, and suck every square inch of this body, over and over, until you fully understand what it means to be worshiped. Because I worship you, Ronin Black. You are the most magnificent man I’ve ever seen. The most amazing man I’ve ever met.”
He remained quiet for a long moment. “Baby. Your words honor me on a day I’ve had little praise. So thank you.”
“Are you done for today?”
“Close. Why?”
Amery’s gaze collided with his. “Because I want you. Just like this. Hot, sweaty, your muscles quivering from exertion and that fierce look on your face.”
Ronin uncurled her hand from the back of his neck and kissed her knuckles. “Anytime you want me you can have me.”
“But?”
He released a heavy sigh. “But I’m not in the right headspace now.”
“Oh.” She tried not to deflate.
“That’s why I am the way I am when I come home after training. It’s . . . physically demanding and a total mindfuck. It takes me a while to let go.”
“Are you sorry I came?”
“Never.” He kissed her knuckles again. “I want Master Daichi to meet you.”
“He doesn’t look like he’ll be as nice as his brother.”
“Master Yasuji can be ten times harder than Sensei when he puts his mind to it.”
“He’s also a jujitsu master?”
Ronin gave her an odd look. “No. Didn’t he tell you who he is?”
“No. At first when he served me cookies and tea I thought he might be the butler.”
He laughed. “I cannot wait to tell him that. Yasuji is bakushi.”
She frowned. Where had she heard that term?
“He’s Japan’s most renowned kinbaku and shibari rope master. He’s been my instructor since I was eighteen. He’s the sole reason I was selected to train with Master Daichi.”
“Yasuji is the one who taught you all of your rope tricks?”
From behind them, Yasuji said, “Only the good ones. The boy has a lot to learn yet.”
Amery spun around. “I apologize if I’ve offended you by my ignorance of your stature.”
“I’ll admit it was refreshing to meet you, knowing more about you than you know about me.”
Of course Ronin had told his teacher all about her.
For the first time it didn’t bother her that a stranger knew she enjoyed sensual rope play with her husband. She smiled. “Well, I’m a recent rope enthusiast—strictly from the tie-ee’s perspective. I look forward to Ronin practicing the new rope tricks he’s learned from you on me.”