He'd been right about her. She was a little wildcat in bed. There was no shyness, no holding back. Her hands were everywhere, stroking, caressing, urging him to move faster. He didn't, of course, because she needed to be ready for him and he wanted every experience they enjoyed together to be more than just good for her.
Mariko couldn't get enough of touching his skin. She loved the way he felt against her bare body. All the hard muscles covered by a satiny texture that she couldn't resist. His mouth was at her breast, pulling strongly. Hot. Hard. His tongue rasping against her nipple, then the sharp scrape of his teeth sending fire streaking through her. It was so beautiful she wanted to live in that moment.
She scraped her nails down his chest, savoring the feel of his muscles rippling beneath the hot satin of his skin. Her gaze was on his face, watching him shudder, watching his eyes go dark, drenched with a desire so dark and intense it stole her breath. He breathed her name, a whisper of sound that moved in her soul.
She kissed his throat, feeling his pulse hammering beneath her lips. The heart of him. Every beat. For her. She would remember this moment for the rest of her life. Each separate beat under her lips, on her tongue, beneath her palm. She inhaled, drawing him into her lungs. Deep. Holding him there. He smelled fresh, clean, with that faint outdoor scent that was so elusive.
Outside, the rain poured on the roof and beat a rhythm against the window, drenching it so the water ran like a waterfall off the glass. The sound was beautiful to her, like a symphony, violins weeping in the background, her heart and his drumming a beat that she knew she would always remember.
He was never still, his hands and mouth as busy as hers. She loved that, too, that need in him, the driving hunger, as if he had to know every inch of her body. She felt that way, almost desperate to touch every single inch of his skin. Her fingertips followed the path of his scars, the long ridges that took her to the rows of muscles along his abdomen. Her mouth followed, kissing those scars, the signs of his courage and integrity. The marks he wore proclaiming he'd saved her.
He made a sound, deep in his throat, a dark, sexy groan that made her sex clench and her body shudder with desperate need. He'd given her release with his mouth in the studio, but that tension was back and this time it was a thousand times worse. Every nerve ending was on fire for him. She couldn't get enough of touching him, of having every part of his body touching every part of hers. She felt almost frantic for the sensations he gave her with his hands …
Her head went up and she looked at his face, realizing it wasn't the sensations so much as the need to be as close as possible. To give him pleasure. She wanted him to feel the way he'd made her feel. More, she wanted to worship his body the way he always seemed to worship hers. His hands moved over her, his mouth trailing kisses on her shoulder and down her arm, while his palms took in as much of her flesh as possible.
It was Ricco's face that caught and held her attention – made her breath catch in her lungs and a million butterflies take wing in her stomach. For the first time, she looked beyond the dark sensuality carved so deep in the lines of his face, beyond the desire, the passion, and saw something else there she realized she'd seen before when he was with her. There was a vulnerability that was never there with anyone else.
She'd seen it on the street when he'd been thrown off the hood of the truck and was injured. She saw it when they were in his studio and he was creating his art. It was there now on his tough, handsome features. He was beautiful, and in that moment, he was all hers. She wished she could fully interpret that look, because she knew it was hers alone, but all she could do was memorize it and hold it close to her heart.
She breathed him in with every breath she took, wanting to gorge on him, absorbing every sensation, so that every detail was imprinted on her soul. She wanted to keep this memory, have this part of him, for all time.
Her heart clenched. Hurt so much. She rested her forehead against his belly as the realization swept over her. Not a moment. Not a memory. She desperately wanted him for her lifetime – beyond if she could. She had thought the ropes intimate, their connected shadows intimate, but this, the way he touched her body, so reverently yet at the same time with such dark passion – this was true intimacy. Not the ropes. Not the shadows. Not even the sex. Tears burned her eyes. She wasn't going to ever get over him.
At once he lifted his body slightly up, propped himself up on one hand and looked down at her, studying her expression. There was no getting away from those dark, piercing eyes. He saw everything. Saw right into her.