There was no way for Mariko to continue looking him in the eye. He saw into her soul, into secret places, desires she had pushed down and buried deep. Needs she didn’t want to acknowledge. She’d forgotten how to dream. Until she met Ricco Ferraro, she had existed to bring justice to criminals. He had opened an entirely different world for her, and all her secrets were there for him to discover. He was uncovering them one by one.

“Mariko.” He said her name in the way that he had. Pouring everything into one word. “You’re safe with me. Everything about you is safe. What and who you really are. Outside these walls, you’re the shadow rider. Inside, you’re all woman. Unbelievably beautiful. Your soul shines through. You can see it in the photographs. I’ve developed the ones from our last session and they’re incredible.”

He caught her chin and lifted it, forcing her gaze back up to meet his. “Are you with me on this?”

She was with him on everything. She hadn’t even realized she craved human contact. Kindness. Decency. To think that even for one moment she’d contemplated killing him, removing a man like him from the world.

“I came here to kill you,” she blurted out. Ashamed. Horrified. Her eyes filled with tears. With remorse. With such guilt she could barely hold her head up.

“No you didn’t, bella. You came here to save me – and you have.”

She blinked. She didn’t know what that meant. Save him? He looked at her as if she were special to him. As if she were that one woman. She wanted to be, but she knew better. He was a good man, but a poor bet for a woman to take on. She didn’t share. She might not know many things about herself, but she knew that. Still, she could have him for a little while.

She was going to continue to try to find her brother. There was no trail to follow, but she planned to backtrack. She had to have missed something. Sooner or later, her enemy would strike against her, but in the meantime, she would live and enjoy every second Ricco had to spare for her.

A slow smile moved over his mouth, softening the edges but not quite lighting his eyes. He was gorgeous. The scars only made him more so. A beautiful warrior with a poet’s soul. She smiled back and nodded that she was ready.

The change was instant, complete confidence in every line of his body. He stepped back but as he did so, one finger slid down the nape of her neck. His claiming. His connection with her. The brush of that finger linked them together, so his confidence became hers. Her vulnerability became his. She ceded power to him and, in doing so, gained his power. She understood that now.

He took her hand and placed it on his chest as he moved first one way and then the other, breathing normally as he did. “We’re connected, our breathing, the way we move. I want you to feel me the way I do you. Be aware of me.”

She already was. She knew every line of his body, every ripple of his muscles. The way he set his feet on the floor, the way his shoulders moved and his neck turned. She’d never been so acutely aware of another human being. Beneath her palm his skin was hot. His heart beat solidly, a steady rhythm she could count on. She nodded to show him she got it.

He caught up the bundles of rope, his eyes moving over her and then to the ropes. He dropped the red coils, retaining a black bundle, his gaze never leaving her. He circled her, his hands sure as he shook out the rope, sliding it through his fingers, feeling for splinters to keep from hurting her.

She stayed very still, feeling him close, his heat. His power. That absolute confidence. He came back to stand in front of her, one hand reaching down to the knot at her waist where she’d secured the kimono. It took him less than a second to slip the knot and open her robe. Her breath caught in her throat. It was one thing to say she was fine with just her bra and panties, another altogether when he was looking at her under the lights.

He pushed the robe from her shoulders and the silk felt sensual as it slid over her skin. Before the kimono could float to the floor, he caught it, bunched it in his hand, and tossed it toward the table where his camera was already set up. She heard his breath catch and deep inside, her sex clenched and went damp. With just that one small action, he made her feel beautiful, made her realize that the living art form of Shibari was also a sensual expression of sexuality. Hers. His. Theirs together.

“Just so you know what’s going on here, before we get started, it’s important for you to know I intend to seduce you. That means touching you. If at any time you’re uncomfortable with the way I put my hands on you, say so.”

Her head jerked up. He spoke matter-of-factly, as if talking about the weather. He always found a way to throw her off-balance. Now she would be waiting. Anticipating. Wondering every moment if he would touch her. Where he would touch her. How it would feel…

Her breath caught in her lungs. Her throat closed. His eyes were on her, noting every reaction. He had to see her nipples harden beneath the red lace. He had to know how she responded to his declaration. She inclined her head, wanting him to know she understood and wasn’t protesting, but she couldn’t speak.

Ricco stood for a moment, sliding the rope through his hand, just drinking her in. Absorbing her. Everything about her appealed to him. She looked sexy as hell in red lace and nothing else. Automatically, he folded the rope in two, finding the center point without looking, keeping it in his hand while he breathed in and out, studying her feminine form. He was pleased that she was courageous enough to acknowledge she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He could read her desire in her body, in her eyes, the rise and fall of her breasts with every ragged breath she drew.

So beautiful. Such a gift she gave him. He focused completely on the soft feminine curves of her body, allowing the world to slip away until there was only the two of them. As he observed her beauty, his vision began to form. Something simple to continue to ease her into the world of his living art, but more than the simple harness he’d used on her before. Adding to that would be good and make her feel secure.

He stepped close to her, inhaling her scent. She was his woman whether she fully accepted it or not. He had a long way to go to convince her, but here, she was all his. No question. He caught her bare shoulders, feeling the cool silk of her skin. She shivered. He slid his hand down her arm to her wrist, moved his fingers over hers several times, to relax her, to ease the tension out of her, to know the temperature of her skin so when she was tied he could tell with a touch if his rope was cutting off circulation.

In the bright light of the room their shadows were connected, and as her apprehension was reduced he could feel other emotions slipping into him. Her feelings. The beginnings of true affection. Hunger. Need. Those deepening passions gave him more power, her power, but it also fed her his as well. She was drifting a little, letting the anticipation take her away from him.

He caught her hands and jerked her close. The movement was swift, hard and unexpected. Her gaze jumped to his. That action certainly got her attention focused wholly back on him quickly. Already he was wrapping her wrists, paying little attention to the actual rope. It was an extension of his body and moved exactly the way his mind instructed.