She twined her arms around his neck. “Yes. We’ve never done it in your shower. Maybe the reason is because your technique is lacking or something. So I can’t fully commit to living with you unless I’m assured you are up for getting down and dirty when we’re getting clean in the shower.”
“I feel dirty right now.”
Not the type of answer she wanted. “Talk to me.”
Ronin rested his forehead to hers. “I hate that someone hurt you.”
“I hate that you decided to punish yourself for someone hurting me. You could offer to kiss it and make it better.”
“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you if I kiss you.”
“So pin me against the shower wall and f**k me. Kiss me next time. And the time after that. And talking hurts more than anything because my teeth rub—”
“On the underside. Then your tongue keeps going to that sore spot and making it worse.” He feathered kisses over the side of her mouth that wasn’t swollen. Then he lightly slipped the tip of his tongue across the seam of her lips, tasting the bruised skin on the inner rim, showing utmost tenderness.
Then he was backing her into the tile wall.
Steam swirled around them. Water spattered against his back.
“Bruises on your beautiful neck. That kills me.” Soft, wet kisses followed the arc of her throat, and he followed the sweetness with heat, gifting her with a shiver-inducing pass of his warm breath on the spots he’d just kissed.
“Ronin, I’m fine.”
“I’m not fine. Not even f**king close to fine.”
“Then let’s make it fine. Better than fine.” Amery reached between them and jacked his shaft until he hissed with pleasure. “Good. I just want to make sure you’re as pumped for this as I am.”
He groaned against her throat when she repeatedly rubbed her thumb over the sweet spot beneath the head. “I am. Grab the shower bar.” Ronin slipped his hand behind her knee and pressed it into the wall. “Lift your leg. Higher. Come on. You practice yoga.”
There was her bossy man. She kept her eyes on his face as he raised her thigh so her kneecap was parallel to her shoulder.
“Hang on to me.” He moved in until they were groin to groin. Then he finally stroked her pu**y. “You’re wet.”
“Being naked with you does that to me.”
He slowly fed his c**k into her. He circled his fingers around her ankle, sliding her leg up, and pushed farther inside her.
“Omigod. That’s like . . .” She gasped when he did it again.
“Like what?”
“Stretching me so much that I can feel you on me and in me.”
“I want you wide open so I can hear that sexy little f**king moan when I do this.” He withdrew his c**k and ground against her as he slid in deep again.
Amery moaned.
“That sound right there means I’m doing something right.”
“You’re doing everything right.”
His lips followed the shape of her ear from the lobe to the upper shell. “Fast, slow, sweet, rough . . . it’s so good every time. When I’m with you like this, it feels like I’m where I belong.”
Words like that . . . Even with the passion flowing between them so strongly she could scarcely think of anything else, his admission brought a quick sheen of tears.
The heat between them took time to build. And Ronin dragged every bit of anticipation out of them both.
His hand gripping her ankle, his mouth licking and sucking on her skin. His c**k powering into her. Every stroke created friction on her clit. Every brush of her ni**les against his chest sent more tingles skittering across her flesh.
“Amery.”
“I know. Me too.” Her hand curled around the back of his neck. “Take us there.”
And he did, with the erotic precision he’d mastered. They came at the same time, which didn’t always happen. But when it did? Holy shit.
“Okay,” she panted. “You don’t suck at shower sex.”
Ronin chuckled against her throat. “Neither do you.” He slowly lowered her leg to the floor and eased out of her body. Those wonderfully rough hands skated up the curve of her hip, the bend in her waist, and over her breast. “Thank you, baby, for knowing what I needed and pushing me to take it.”
She traced the edge of his collarbone up to his throat and tipped his chin back to look into his face. Some of the tension had lessened, but not all. Not enough. “I know something else you need.”
He blinked in that measured way that let her know he was still thinking about sex. “What would that be?”
“You need to create something beautiful with these hands. And I need the connection with you and how you make me feel.”
“How’s that?”
“Like it’s more than just rope binding us.”
“It is more. A lot more. And yes, after all that’s gone on today, I could use the concentration and the focus entirely on you.” He twisted a section of her damp hair around his finger. “Would you give me that?”
“Of course. Should we make this a formal binding?”
His eyes searched hers. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“No. We haven’t done that in a while. Won’t it be more formal between us at the club?”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Okay.”
“Your robe is in the guest bedroom.” Ronin kissed her cheek. “Ten minutes.”
Amery quickly dried off. After slipping on her cherry blossom robe, she arranged her hair in a messy knot on the top of her head, securing it with a pair of ornamental chopsticks Shiori had given her.
Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply for ten breaths before she moved into the practice room.
Ronin had lit candles on the small altar in the corner. Rope work was a deeper kind of meditation for him even when he claimed it was all about her.
Amery was aware that Ronin meditated in his Zen garden as well as at the altar he’d installed in this room. Since she’d never dated a man who wasn’t Christian, she’d read up on Shintoism so she wasn’t so freakin’ clueless. It wasn’t an organized religion that expected followers to profess faith and adhere to strict rituals, but a spiritual way of life that celebrated Japanese traditions and history, as well as belief in kami—a sacred life force that dwells within all humans and nature.
Of all the people she’d met in her life who professed to live by the tenets of their belief system, Ronin Black actually did.