Shadow Reaper (Shadow #2)(42)

Her eyes met his as the thought raced through her mind. For one moment his mask slipped and she saw his eyes go dark with desire. Every line in his face was etched with a sensuality that kept her breath trapped deep in her lungs. No one had ever looked at her like that in her life. Then the mask was back in place and he was stalking her. Like a great, fluid jungle cat.



She watched him come toward her, his muscles rippling beneath his tight tee. The material stretched over his chest so she could see the defined muscles beneath as he approached her. He looked utterly confident. The scrapes on his arms and face didn't detract from his good looks at all. If anything, he looked even tougher. 



"You look perfect, Mariko," he greeted. "Absolutely beautiful."



No reprimand for being late. For taking her time. For almost running away. She was ashamed that she'd considered that idea  – just opening the French doors and disappearing into the night. He circled her, his body heat reaching her. Enveloping her. His scent surrounding her.



"You're nervous."



That voice. She loved how low and intimate his tone could be. How commanding. She was strong. She needed stronger. "Yes." He'd made it a statement, just as he had said she was beautiful, as if she knew it and he was just acknowledging it. As if it were the truth. She heard the ring of honesty in his voice, but then he'd hit his head numerous times.



"It's okay to be nervous, Mariko. You're entering a journey that is both sensual and artistic."



He moved behind her and touched her shoulder. She jumped and immediately felt ashamed. "I'm sorry."



"Don't be sorry. Talk to me. Communication is very important between us at all times." He bent his head as he lifted the hair from the back of her neck. "For instance, I find your neck incredibly sexy. You look both vulnerable and sensual with your hair up. With it down, you look wild and beautiful. Just as sensual, but in a completely different way."



She closed her eyes as his breath touched the nape of her neck. So warm. So male. He made her aware of every cell in her body because each went on alert when he was close. She was a rider and trained in every aspect of warfare, of engaging an enemy, defeating them. She knew anatomy, knew every pressure point. She knew the exact angle one had to use to break a neck.



She had absolutely no knowledge of what he was doing to her or how he could arouse her with just his voice and a gesture so small as the brush of his fingers on her body. He had barely touched her shoulder, lifted her hair, spoke in that low, compelling voice, and her body was aroused. Her breathing came in soft, ragged pants. He couldn't fail to notice, he was far too tuned to the human body  – especially a woman's.



"I want to do a breathing exercise with you, but I will be touching your body. You have to get used to my hands on you and I need to know how you breathe so I never restrict you when we're working together. Any time you're uncomfortable, you need to say so. I have to trust that you'll communicate what you're feeling at all times. If I lay a rope incorrectly and it hurts you, I have to know."



He was still behind her, his mouth against the nape of her neck, lips brushing tiny caresses with every word he said. That voice, so low and velvet soft, smoothed over her skin like his lips, until she couldn't separate the two sensations. Already her breasts ached with need and she grew damp between her legs.



"Mariko." His voice was gentle. "I need to know you're all right with me touching you intimately."



Just the way he said intimately was intimate. She wanted to groan and her mouth had gone suddenly dry. She not only wanted him to touch her, she needed him to do so. She swallowed hard and nodded. Slightly. A bare affirmation with her head because that was all she could manage. He didn't move. He didn't drop her hair back into place. He stayed behind her, his body very close to hers but without touching other than his hand and his breath. He simply waited.



"Yes. It's all right." She needed his touch more than she needed to breathe. How she managed to give him what he needed to continue, she didn't know. For the first time in her life she felt weak with wanting. With need. Yet at the same time, she did feel sort of attractive. She was aware of herself as a woman, as feminine, when she'd always felt masculine. He'd given her that, and she'd be forever grateful.



       
         
       
        



His fingers curled around the bicep of her right arm. His touch was firm. Possessive. Held her captured there. "I'm going to put my hand on your upper chest. I want you to just breathe normally. Feel my breath moving in and out with yours. Just let yourself feel those sensations, Mariko."