Shadow Reaper
Page 9
“That’s better. You said your mother was a rope model so you know what it entails.” He made it a statement.
She nodded just slightly.
“You’re going to have to actually speak to me.”
She was an idiot to think she could do this, but she was already in the situation. She hadn’t expected to feel anything. Certainly not attraction. To hell with her childhood and all the voices whispering in her head. She moistened her lips, watching him watch her. That slight action of her tongue on her lips, the nervous giveaway. “Yes.” The single word came out low and husky.
His lashes didn’t so much as flicker. He had long lashes. Beautiful lashes. His mouth was pretty amazing as well. It was just that he was far more daunting than she’d expected.
“Have you seen a performance?”
She nodded. He kept looking at her. Waiting in silence. The color slid under her skin. “Yes.”
He remained silent.
“After I was given the book, I studied the art and went to several demonstrations. I guess I wanted to feel closer to her.” She’d wanted to understand her mother.
“What did you think?”
What had she thought? She’d been taught that her mother was a slut. A whore. That she’d destroyed an entire family, dishonoring them. She’d been told time and again that her mother had made her living whoring, that she had abandoned her two children to the streets. It hadn’t been an image she wanted to think about. Until now. Until she learned everything she knew might not be real. The ground had shifted out from under her and now she was here, trying to figure out what she could do next.
“I thought the art was beautiful. I didn’t understand why or how she could do it.” The photographs were stunning. But to be tied up at someone’s mercy. That was disturbing. Mariko wasn’t certain she could actually do it.
“For this to work, you have to trust me. Implicitly. You have to know that I would always take care of you in any circumstance.”
She blinked. The breath caught in her lungs and felt trapped there. She trusted no one. Especially not a man like Ricco Ferraro. She’d done her homework before applying for the position. No one else seemed to know Ricco was the rigger, but she’d suspected all along. There weren’t that many real rope masters in the United States.
He waited, and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. No one took care of her. Not ever. She took care of her brother, but no one took care of her. She wasn’t even certain what that meant to him.
He moved then and her heart clenched so hard in her chest she feared she might have a heart attack. All he did was step forward, but she couldn’t breathe.
“You know that we have to get to know each other fast. The contract is for six months.”
“I thought three.” The words came out strangled. She sounded like a scared little mouse and that annoyed her. She wasn’t a mouse.
“Six.” It was firm. “Six, and you live in my house. With me. You would have your own suite of rooms within the house.”
She shook her head and went to stand. She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out of there. The moment she moved, he did as well, stepping back to allow her to get up. She didn’t expect that. Why? She wasn’t his prisoner. She was applying for a position she wanted. No, needed.
“Are you staying?”
His voice was pitched low. Mesmerizing. She loved music and she responded to musical notes. This was different, but no less perfect. He had the kind of voice that made a woman go soft and damp. That made her want to do anything he said. Even her. She’d thought she was immune to anything like that until this moment.
“Do you want me to stay?” She held her breath. She needed his answer more than she needed air.
“Yes.”
She didn’t understand how she could be so affected by his voice. By that simple answer. She took another breath. “I honestly don’t know if I can do this.” She didn’t know. That was the truth. She was walking on eggshells, giving him as much truth as possible without revealing the dark secrets shadowing her every step.
“Of course you don’t. You don’t know me at all. You have to get to know me before you’ll have faith that I’d never hurt or harm you in any way.”
He took her hand, closing his very gently but firmly around hers, and led her out away from the table. Grasping her shoulders, he turned her until she was facing the door. “Stand here for me. I don’t want you to move.”
Mariko found she was trembling. His touch was terrifying. Not because he hadn’t been gentle, but because she felt the absolute command in him, telegraphed through those warm, strong fingers. It was impossible not to think what it would be like to have those fingers stroking caresses over her skin. She tried to shut down those thoughts, but they refused to leave her. She didn’t want to look at him just in case he could read her most intimate desire.
Ricco moved then, like a stalking panther, circling her slowly, silently. When he moved behind her, out of her sight, she nearly panicked. It was all she could do to keep from running to the door. He had positioned her right in front of it, almost like he was daring her to make a run for it.
She felt him. His breath on the nape of her neck. The skim of his finger from the nape of her neck down her spine. His touch was so light it was barely there. Did she imagine it? If so, the caress was so real it sent flickering flames licking at her skin. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to show him she was strong. She was powerful. She could be what he needed. She was what he needed.
“Put your hands out in front of you. Palms together as if you are praying.”
His voice was even and low. A mere whisper, but if she thought he was commanding before, now she heard the real thing. No one could possibly disobey that soft, powerful tone. A whisper of trepidation slid down her spine. At the same time, she felt her sex clench, go damp.
She was slow to bring up her hands but he didn’t look impatient. He simply waited. Never once had she been restrained. “I thought we would get to know each other.”
None of the other models coming out of the room had said they’d been tied by Ricco Ferraro. She was certain they could never have resisted bragging about it. That was what Shibari was, wasn’t it? She hadn’t thought about the fact that she’d be placing herself in such a vulnerable position. That she’d be helpless, and entirely at his mercy.
Ricco moved in front of her in that silent way of his. He was too strong. Too powerful. Too scary. It wasn’t just his looks – and he was a striking male. It was the predatory vibe he gave off. The look in his unblinking stare, so focused on her. Now he had a rope in his hand. This one was red and it slid through his fingers as if a part of him. At once she was mesmerized by that single movement. She couldn’t look at anything else. The rope appeared an extension of him, coiling, uncoiling, slithering, just as suddenly coming alive with sheer power.
She nodded just slightly.
“You’re going to have to actually speak to me.”
She was an idiot to think she could do this, but she was already in the situation. She hadn’t expected to feel anything. Certainly not attraction. To hell with her childhood and all the voices whispering in her head. She moistened her lips, watching him watch her. That slight action of her tongue on her lips, the nervous giveaway. “Yes.” The single word came out low and husky.
His lashes didn’t so much as flicker. He had long lashes. Beautiful lashes. His mouth was pretty amazing as well. It was just that he was far more daunting than she’d expected.
“Have you seen a performance?”
She nodded. He kept looking at her. Waiting in silence. The color slid under her skin. “Yes.”
He remained silent.
“After I was given the book, I studied the art and went to several demonstrations. I guess I wanted to feel closer to her.” She’d wanted to understand her mother.
“What did you think?”
What had she thought? She’d been taught that her mother was a slut. A whore. That she’d destroyed an entire family, dishonoring them. She’d been told time and again that her mother had made her living whoring, that she had abandoned her two children to the streets. It hadn’t been an image she wanted to think about. Until now. Until she learned everything she knew might not be real. The ground had shifted out from under her and now she was here, trying to figure out what she could do next.
“I thought the art was beautiful. I didn’t understand why or how she could do it.” The photographs were stunning. But to be tied up at someone’s mercy. That was disturbing. Mariko wasn’t certain she could actually do it.
“For this to work, you have to trust me. Implicitly. You have to know that I would always take care of you in any circumstance.”
She blinked. The breath caught in her lungs and felt trapped there. She trusted no one. Especially not a man like Ricco Ferraro. She’d done her homework before applying for the position. No one else seemed to know Ricco was the rigger, but she’d suspected all along. There weren’t that many real rope masters in the United States.
He waited, and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. No one took care of her. Not ever. She took care of her brother, but no one took care of her. She wasn’t even certain what that meant to him.
He moved then and her heart clenched so hard in her chest she feared she might have a heart attack. All he did was step forward, but she couldn’t breathe.
“You know that we have to get to know each other fast. The contract is for six months.”
“I thought three.” The words came out strangled. She sounded like a scared little mouse and that annoyed her. She wasn’t a mouse.
“Six.” It was firm. “Six, and you live in my house. With me. You would have your own suite of rooms within the house.”
She shook her head and went to stand. She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out of there. The moment she moved, he did as well, stepping back to allow her to get up. She didn’t expect that. Why? She wasn’t his prisoner. She was applying for a position she wanted. No, needed.
“Are you staying?”
His voice was pitched low. Mesmerizing. She loved music and she responded to musical notes. This was different, but no less perfect. He had the kind of voice that made a woman go soft and damp. That made her want to do anything he said. Even her. She’d thought she was immune to anything like that until this moment.
“Do you want me to stay?” She held her breath. She needed his answer more than she needed air.
“Yes.”
She didn’t understand how she could be so affected by his voice. By that simple answer. She took another breath. “I honestly don’t know if I can do this.” She didn’t know. That was the truth. She was walking on eggshells, giving him as much truth as possible without revealing the dark secrets shadowing her every step.
“Of course you don’t. You don’t know me at all. You have to get to know me before you’ll have faith that I’d never hurt or harm you in any way.”
He took her hand, closing his very gently but firmly around hers, and led her out away from the table. Grasping her shoulders, he turned her until she was facing the door. “Stand here for me. I don’t want you to move.”
Mariko found she was trembling. His touch was terrifying. Not because he hadn’t been gentle, but because she felt the absolute command in him, telegraphed through those warm, strong fingers. It was impossible not to think what it would be like to have those fingers stroking caresses over her skin. She tried to shut down those thoughts, but they refused to leave her. She didn’t want to look at him just in case he could read her most intimate desire.
Ricco moved then, like a stalking panther, circling her slowly, silently. When he moved behind her, out of her sight, she nearly panicked. It was all she could do to keep from running to the door. He had positioned her right in front of it, almost like he was daring her to make a run for it.
She felt him. His breath on the nape of her neck. The skim of his finger from the nape of her neck down her spine. His touch was so light it was barely there. Did she imagine it? If so, the caress was so real it sent flickering flames licking at her skin. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to show him she was strong. She was powerful. She could be what he needed. She was what he needed.
“Put your hands out in front of you. Palms together as if you are praying.”
His voice was even and low. A mere whisper, but if she thought he was commanding before, now she heard the real thing. No one could possibly disobey that soft, powerful tone. A whisper of trepidation slid down her spine. At the same time, she felt her sex clench, go damp.
She was slow to bring up her hands but he didn’t look impatient. He simply waited. Never once had she been restrained. “I thought we would get to know each other.”
None of the other models coming out of the room had said they’d been tied by Ricco Ferraro. She was certain they could never have resisted bragging about it. That was what Shibari was, wasn’t it? She hadn’t thought about the fact that she’d be placing herself in such a vulnerable position. That she’d be helpless, and entirely at his mercy.
Ricco moved in front of her in that silent way of his. He was too strong. Too powerful. Too scary. It wasn’t just his looks – and he was a striking male. It was the predatory vibe he gave off. The look in his unblinking stare, so focused on her. Now he had a rope in his hand. This one was red and it slid through his fingers as if a part of him. At once she was mesmerized by that single movement. She couldn’t look at anything else. The rope appeared an extension of him, coiling, uncoiling, slithering, just as suddenly coming alive with sheer power.
