“I’ll make your experience every bit as wonderful as you did for me,” he promised. She was nervous, yes, and maybe, just maybe, there was that little hint of fear for the unknown, but she trusted him.
Sam bent his head to her flat belly and began tracing the delicate lines of the spiderweb with his tongue and lips the way he’d wanted to from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her tattoo. His tongue swirled in her intriguing belly button and moved again to trace her ribs.
“You need another spider right here by your belly button for me to tease,” he whispered against her skin.
His body wanted to go fast and take her, burying himself deep over and over, but another part of him wanted to savor her in that same unhurried way she’d built such anticipation. He wanted her soft, breathless cries pleading with him. He wanted her so ready for him there would be little discomfort to her.
Her stomach muscles bunched and rippled beneath his exploring hand and mouth, her breasts rising and falling as his mouth moved closer. His heart nearly exploded when her mind slipped into his, a little hesitant at first, as if she needed reassurance that he wanted the added intimacy. She would know then-he wouldn’t be able to hide what she meant to him. He wanted her with every breath in his body. He needed her just as he needed air to breathe, and he didn’t even know how it happened.
Something had happened when their minds connected, out there on the battlefield, and when she’d left his mind, she’d taken a part of him with her. The slow ritual bath had only deepened that bond, pushing his desire so far, creating a hunger so endless for her that it clawed and raked at him. He caught her hands and drew them around his neck, lifting his head to look down at her face. Her eyes were wide-open, and he could see the passion and desire shining back at him. The same hunger clawed at her. He lowered his head to kiss her again, sharing her breath, sharing his mind, one hand sliding down all that smooth skin to find the vee between her legs.
She was all heat and dampness. A private sanctuary for him to get lost in-and he didn’t give a damn about trying to find a way out. As his palm covered her mound, his thumb sliding deep into her sheath, she flushed, her body growing hotter. Her eyes went wide with shock and her breath turned ragged, but she parted her thighs wider for him.
“It’s all right,” he soothed. “You’re safe with me, Azami. We’ll do this together.”
He didn’t think he’d survive that long. His body had never raged at him like this, never made such demands. The candlelight made her skin glow and the threads of the spiderweb actually appeared luminous, a trick of the ink. Watching her, mesmerized by her reaction, he slid his finger into that slick heat. She was tight and hot, and with her small body writhing under his, all that silky skin rubbing against him, he feared he might lose his mind.
He talked to her to keep sane, to keep from being a primitive idiot when she needed to be introduced into the world of lovemaking gently. “I dreamt of you when I was young, back on the streets. So long ago, Azami. I would spend the night huddled in a doorway, afraid I’d have to kill someone to stay alive, hungry, alone, and when I’d be so tired I couldn’t stay awake, I’d be with you. You were so beautiful and exotic and unattainable, and at the same time, the only solace I had.”
“I dreamt of you too,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I never thought to find a man I would want to share my body with.” She lifted her head and waited until their eyes met. “A man who would see me in spite of my flaws.” She brought her hand up a little self-consciously to her misshapen breast. The scars zigzagged across the soft mound and just to the side of the nipple, where the spider resided, in that small nook where a small part of her breast was missing. The scar was shiny white beneath the spider.
Sam bent his head to brush kisses across that spider. “The only flaw you have, my beautiful Azami, is that you didn’t find me sooner.”
Azami laughed softly, but her eyes were overbright and tears shimmered on her long lashes. “Only you could say that. Even my father did not think that. He said I would have to learn to curb my temper. I spent many hours scrubbing the floor of our dojo for losing my temper and nearly taking off the head of my brother when practicing.”
Sam nibbled his way up to her chin. “Did you chase him around with your sword?” He moved his finger deep inside her, stretching her enough to add a second finger.
He took possession of her mouth, catching that breathy little moan. He kissed her over and over, savoring the sweet taste of her and the way her lips were soft and firm and her tongue danced with his. He lifted his head enough to kiss the corners of her eyes, removing those tiny, sparkling tears.
“Did you? Did you chase your brother with a sword?”
“Yes.” Azami lowered her gaze, clearly ashamed.
Sam laughed. “I knew it. What did he do?”
“He teased me about my white hair and I wanted to chop all of his hair from his head. Father made me scrub the dojo from top to bottom.”
“That seems fair to me, shaving his head, I mean.”
She shook her head. “No, Father was right. I was learning to be quite lethal and I needed to hold my temper over silly matters. Although, I have to say, I was quite secretly pleased when the next time I saw Daiki, his hair was chopped off. He did it himself when he saw me punished.”
Sam kissed her neck and then branded her there before kissing his way down to her tempting breasts again and tracing his way along her ribs back to her belly button. His teeth nipped occasionally, his tongue swirling, dancing over her bunching muscles. Her soft moans were like music to him, playing through his body and stroking caresses in his mind. He kissed her belly button and slid lower, inhaling her exotic fragrance. His dreams hadn’t been this good. Nothing was this good. He parted her thighs and bent his head to lap at her slick crease.
Azami cried out and clutched at his hair, tossing her head back and forth on the pillow. She tasted as good as he knew she would, an addicting, exciting blend of spice. He took his time, indulging himself, bringing her to a fever pitch of need.
CHAPTER 13
Tears burned behind Azami’s eyes. She had never thought to feel this kind of passion-or this kind of love. Her breath came in long, ragged, labored rushes. Her body was no longer her own but Sam’s, and she gave herself willingly, yet there was a small part of her that kept protesting. Useless. Not worthy. He was bringing her to paradise, offering her something so precious, a miracle really, and yet what could she give him in return? A lump in her throat threatened to choke her. She should have told him everything, and she’d withheld vital information, fearing he would reject her.
Thorn was gone. Long gone. That malnourished child with horrible white hair, a freak of nature, so useless she couldn’t even be used as a rat in a laboratory. It was Azami Sam was taking to paradise, Azami who felt every wonderful sensation burning like a fireball through her body. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel like this. To want someone until you almost felt insane with need. To desire another’s touch. To writhe beneath them, skin to skin, seeing acceptance in his eyes. Even her beloved father had not thought that she could find such a man and yet she had. A sob escaped and she shoved her fist in her mouth to choke it back.
“What is it, baby?” Sam asked softly, lifting his head to look at her.
She couldn’t meet his eyes. His voice, so incredibly loving, soft and sexy, was everything a man’s voice should be. How could he talk to her like that? How could he look at her like that? As if she was the only woman in the world? She shook her head, another small sob escaping, further humiliating her. She had stopped crying the terrible night Whitney had thrown her like garbage into the street. She wasn’t that girl anymore. That useless child. She was Azami Yoshiie, samurai. But if she was, why hadn’t she told him everything?
“Stop it right now.”
Sam’s voice startled her. Shocked her. His tone was hard with authority and his eyes had gone from loving, consuming her with desire, to commanding.
Azami shook her head and twisted away from him. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry, Sam.”
She was sorry for both of them. She’d done the unforgivable, allowing him to think she could commit to him, to have a life with him. More, she’d convinced herself, but even her father had known the truth. Thorn was still inside
