She let him lead her into the bedroom. The scent of orange blossoms and ginger perfumed the air from the candles on the dresser. Soft strains of Norah Jones tunes drifted from her old CD player. He’d put on fresh sheets, her favorite ones, pale pink cotton emblazoned with cherry blossoms. The whole space had a warm, comforting vibe.
He kissed the back of her head, and his hands moved to untie the sash. Then he slipped the robe from her body. “Sit in the middle of the bed.”
Shivering, not only from her nakedness, Amery positioned herself cross-legged in the center of the mattress.
Ronin cocooned her in fleece. “Warm enough?” he asked as he brought her damp hair on the outside of the blanket.
“Yes.”
“Close your eyes. Let me know if I’m hurting you.” He scooted in behind her with his legs stretched out in a V; then he spread her hair out.
Was he really . . . ?
Yes. Ronin was brushing her hair.
At first, it seemed weird. But then she blanked her mind to everything except the sensation of the bristles lightly digging into her scalp. The brush tugging down the long strands. His hands smoothing the untangled tresses. Ronin’s need to atone for his carelessness with her touched her on so many levels.
“Such beautiful hair.” He brushed it straight back and gathered it at the back of her head. “I’ll braid it so it’s out of my way.”
“You know how to braid?” tumbled out.
“Same principle as braiding rope, right?”
“I guess.” And he’d know all about that.
Ronin’s warm breath drifted across her ear as he loosened the blanket. “Stretch out on your back.”
Her heart beat faster—not from fear.
His hands caressed her shoulders, her arms, her sides, her belly. He placed tender, warm kisses on every mark. Ronin continued to stroke her as he applied arnica gel to the areas that needed a salve stronger than the loving touch of his mouth.
Amery kept her eyes closed. Her thoughts scrolled back to the night he’d shown her in the mirror how she looked bound by him. She remembered the dreamy quality of sitting perfectly still and feeling his hands on her everywhere. His fingers caressing her as he worked the ropes. Even when he’d unbound her, she’d still felt the pull, as if the ropes were digging into her skin.
She felt that same type pull now—as if Ronin were burrowing beneath her skin. When she reached up to touch him, she saw the bruise on his jaw had darkened. Her gaze moved over his face. Was his bottom lip swollen? Why hadn’t she noticed the scratches on his neck?
“What? You’re glaring at me.”
“Where were you last night that you ended up with marks on your throat?” Now that she thought about it, he’d been fully dressed when he came looking for her. And the entire time he’d been touching her—he always took his shirt off. So what other marks was he hiding? And why?
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing to me. You didn’t have those Saturday morning when you pinned me to the bed and f**ked me.”
“Amery—”
“Did you go to Twisted?”
Ronin scowled. “No. I told you—”
“You haven’t told me anything. So you’d better come clean about where you were last night or you can leave and don’t come back. I’m not kidding.”
He sighed. “I know you’re not.” He pushed back onto his haunches and studied Amery for a long time before he spoke. “The only time I’ve slept in the last seventy-two hours was when I crawled in bed with you. After my twenty-four-hour surveillance gig, I came here and we went shopping. Seeing Kiki . . .”
A knot in her chest tightened.
“I’d signed on to ref ten matches in an amateur MMA event last night. The last guy’s opponent didn’t show, so I stepped in.”
“Wait. You fought last night? In an actual match?”
“Yeah.” He jammed his hand through his hair and she noticed his knuckles were shredded. “I saw the chance to alleviate some of my aggression from the previous forty-eight hours and I took it.”
When his eyes met hers, she recognized the challenge. Go ahead and judge me.
“Before you ask, yes, I won. But he managed to kick me in the head, which rang my bell pretty good. The fight went all three rounds, so the fans got their money’s worth.”
The casual way Ronin relayed all this raised red flags. “How did you hear about the event?”
“It was my event. I set it up.”
Why didn’t she know that about him? Was that part of the shady business dealings others had mentioned? Was that why he didn’t talk about where he’d been or what he’d been doing some weekend nights? “You do that often?”
“Often enough. And no, it’s not something I advertise through Black Arts.”
Vincent’s warning surfaced again. “Mr. Black doesn’t list all his services on his dojo’s Web site.”
“The only reason I’m telling you this is that the kick to the head scrambled my brain. I hope you know I never would’ve done what I did this morning if I’d been in my right mind.” He curled his hand over her cheek. “I shouldn’t have shown up last night, but I can’t stay away from you.”
Somehow that didn’t bring the relief she thought it would.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“I know you are.”
Ronin stretched out beside her and snugged his body behind hers. “I could use a nap.”
Even before she could jokingly warn Mr. I Don’t Nap not to sleep-fuck her again, he’d fallen asleep.
• • •
FOUR hours later they sat at the kitchen counter finishing the salmon salad Ronin had made for lunch. Things had seemed normal between them after he’d tended to her, and she didn’t want to wreck the moment. But she had questions that couldn’t wait any longer. “We need to talk.”
“I know.”
“What happened between you and Naomi? Just talking about her yesterday affected you and now that’s spilled over onto me, so I have a right to know.”
He shoved his plate aside and ran his hand through his hair. “I met Naomi six years ago at a club.”
She didn’t have to pu**yfoot around and ask what kind of club. “Did you use bondage on her?”
“Yes.”
“Right away after you met her?”
“Yes.”
So he hadn’t sprung it on Naomi as he had on her. “Did you demonstrate erotic bondage on her and then f**k her in front of a roomful of people?”