She bit her lip and nodded. “I had no idea I would have the choice to have a husband and perhaps a baby. My brothers told me of course it was possible and I should consider such a thing, but I won’t be with someone who doesn’t know what—and who—I am. I make no apologies for my need to stop Whitney. Experimenting on adults is monstrous enough, but children?” She shook her head. “I can’t let him continue.”
Sam lifted her, cradling her against his chest. She was featherlight, warm and soft. “I know you inside and out and I want every inch of you. I’ve made my mind up, Azami. I’ve thrown myself into the ring completely, and I’m in it for the duration.”
Azami lifted her fingers to his strong jaw. That beloved face. Those dark, serious eyes. All that curly hair. Hers. Was it possible? How had it even happened? She’d done such a terrible thing, going to bed with him and stopping him right in the middle of things. No one had ever made her feel as he did. Out of control—but in a good way. She hadn’t even known it was possible. Sam Johnson. She’d read everything she could about him in his files. Right from the moment she’d read his impressive education and his equally impressive missions, she’d been intrigued. She just hadn’t admitted it to herself.
“I am usually very good at making up my mind and sticking to my decisions,” she said.
Sam laughed, the sound slipping beneath whatever guard she might have left and teasing her senses into complete compliance. This man, behind closed doors, would always be hers. He opened up his mind and his heart to her. He made her feel beautiful and worthwhile. Even more, he treated her as a complete equal on the battlefield. He would always have protective instincts, but she liked that about him.
The house was dark other than the candles she’d lit in the bedroom, and Sam carried her close to him as he made his way unerringly through the house. The doorways were wide and ceilings high to accommodate his frame, but he moved in silence, reminding her he was as skilled as she was.
“We’d better never get into a huge fight,” she teased.
“That could be bad,” Sam agreed as he set her on the floor beside his bed. “I’m taking these pins out of your hair. Am I going to stab my finger on something and die from instant poisoning, because I need to see your hair down?”
He grasped an intricately painted porcelain hair pin and tugged. The long pin was a slender round cylinder, and when he pulled it loose, strands of hair fell like a waterfall down her back. The pin looked innocent enough, but he didn’t trust it. Azami looked innocent and she was a dangerous woman. He would bet his last dollar this work of art was very lethal.
Azami smiled at him and held out her hand. “The pins with cherry blossoms are used in up close fighting or perhaps a quick jab as one passes the enemy on the street. Just press twice and the needle is here.” She pointed to the end of the pin. “It would feel much like the sting of a tiny insect if felt at all and they are dead.”
“Woman.” Sam grinned at her, blood heating at the mere idea of her abilities. She was everything he’d ever dreamt of. “I think I’m fast becoming obsessed with you. What about this one?” He pulled a dark red pin from her hair. The porcelain was decorated with lacy leaves winding up the cylinder. “Dark red is for … ?”
“Blowgun. It works quite well up to about twenty-five feet. After that, no real accuracy, but handy in a pinch.” She placed the dark red pin carefully on the nightstand beside the cherry blossom pin.
He pulled another pin loose and more hair snaked down over her shoulder. This one was black with a golden dragon curling around it. “And this one?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Arrows. For my mini crossbow.”
Her casual answer, given in that low, husky voice sent another rush of heat spreading through his veins. His blood turned to magma, hot and thick with need.
There was one red pin, three dragon and three cherry blossom pins. Sam pulled each one out slowly, watching the way her hair cascaded down her back in a silky waterfall. He found her incredibly sexy, a mixture of lethal and fragile. Her hair snaked down her back to her waist in another glorious miracle of womanly wiles. He’d had no idea her hair was so long. However she managed to pin it up with seven ornate weapons was simply another mystery.
His hands dropped to the buttons of the shirt she wore. His knuckles brushed bare skin, that soft swell of her breast he found as fascinating as her weapons. He kept his gaze locked with hers. He needed to stroke all that silken skin. His need had continued to grow with every moment in her company until his erection was a continual aching need. She wanted him, he could see it in the way she ate him up with her dark eyes. A slight flush crept up her neck to her face and her breath left her lungs in a ragged rush.
“I’m starving for the taste of you,” he admitted aloud, craving her. He’d waited so long. A lifetime. She’d been under his body, in his arms, his face buried between her legs, and he still hadn’t managed to have her. Nothing could go wrong this time. He had to have her.
He pushed the edges of the shirt over her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. A little slip of a woman, yet she’d captured his heart so completely. He hadn’t known he craved a wife and family, a place to call home. Hell. He’d refused to acknowledge that he was lonely. He’d set himself on a path of duty and told himself he would never have those things, so why long for them? And then she’d calmly gone into battle with him, no hysterics, no drama, just getting the job done with as much skill as—or more than—any soldier he’d gone into battle with.
Her hands trembled as she ran them up his belly to his chest. He captured both and pressed a kiss into each palm as desire punched low and hard, taking his breath. He’d never known need to be so urgent, or lust to be laced with such tenderness.
“I won’t survive this night if I can’t have you,” he admitted, drawing her closer to him, so that her body melted against his. “I want you that much.”
Her eyes met his. “I want you that much too,” she confessed. “I wanted you from the moment I felt your mind in mine. I knew it was you. I just didn’t trust the future.”
“But you trust me,” he coached.
She bit her bottom lip and nodded slowly, her eyes enormous.
His hands went to her hair, that thick mass of silky black as he bent his head, his mouth taking possession of hers to catch that soft, breathy sigh. He kissed her over and over, savoring the taste of her, the velvet sweetness, the fiery spice that caught his blood on fire. His c**k pressed hard against her belly as her hands caught at his shoulders for support. He moved his hips, thrusting gently, rhythmically, while small rockets roared in his brain at the sensation. Her tongue tangled with his, her nails sinking into the muscle of his shoulders while her body trembled.
He didn’t want to wait this time. Nothing could go wrong. Kissing her senseless was the only answer, but the soft musical moans and the way her body rubbed against his threatened a loss of control he couldn’t afford. He lowered her to the mattress, unbuttoning his jeans with one hand and tugging at them to get them the hell off.
He followed her down, not wanting to lose contact, not wanting to give her too much time to think—or panic. He could see the need burning, but also a little apprehension. He covered her body with his, careful to keep most of his weight off of her as he kissed her. The feel of her small, soft body, all feminine curves and soft, melting skin, only added to the fever raging in him.
He stared down at her body, those sweet curves emphasized by the delicate spiderweb stretched across her narrow rib cage, riding up and over her br**sts and down the slope of her belly to stop just above the temptation of dark curls at the junction of her legs. He found that spiderweb sexy, permanent lacy lingerie drawing attention to her silky skin and soft curves. Her flushed br**sts rose and fell with her ragged breathing, her ni**les, twin hard peaks. That little red-backed spider moved with every breath she drew in and let out.
He bent his head slowly and swiped his tongue over her nipple, just to watch the spider jump in anticipation. She sucked in her breath and beneath his hand, her stomach muscles bunched and her h*ps jumped beneath his, sending heat spiraling through his body.
“Sammy.” She whispered his name, desire drenching her voice. Her body shuddered with pleasure, her eyes glazing.