Bound

CHAPTER FIVE

“SO, you’re having a nooner with Master Black?” Chaz asked with a straight face.

“Why are you here bugging me? You never work on Mondays.”

“Because you didn’t fill me in on what happened over the weekend. I knew if I asked you about it over the phone, and something did happen, you could lie and I wouldn’t know. Face-to-face, I can always tell when you’re lying, so spill the deets, ma chérie.”

Amery refilled her coffee. “We went to a bar after work Friday night, he fixed me dinner at his place, and I came home. No mattress mambo for us, if you’re wondering—but not because the chemistry’s not there. I worked on Saturday until Emmylou dragged me to this truly horrible piece of performance art at some dive bar.” She shuddered.

Chaz tsk-tsked. “I warned you about that weird shit she’s into. I won’t be surprised the day she comes in here wearing a collar and chains. She’s destined to be somebody’s bitch.”

“Funny, Emmylou said the same thing about you,” Amery shot back.

“Please. I own up to being anyone’s bitch, anytime, anyplace. I’m not in denial.” He wandered back to his work area.

Amery followed him. “What masterpieces are you creating now?”

“Three actually. This one is for a gay manga collection.” He shuffled through the papers and pulled out a sheet.

She examined it closely. Yes, it was over-the-top erotic, but the artwork was phenomenal and incredibly detailed. “This is fabulous.”

“I know. Which is why they’re in negotiations with my agent for another big project.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m so proud of you!” She hugged him. “What else?”

“In addition to the straight manga contracts I already have? This guy I know has written a gay superhero series and he’s asked me to illustrate it. He wants to present the finished package to a new, edgier comic book line that’s building some good buzz.”

“This guy . . . do I know him?”

Chaz spun in his chair. “Nope.”

Then she knew. “Dammit, Chaz, you’re sleeping with him already?”

“Yep.”

“What about Andre?”

“What about him?” Chaz said breezily. “I’d be up for a threesome, but as it stands, boy A don’t know about boy B and maybe I’d like to keep it that way.”

Then maybe you should keep it in your pants.

Chaz glared at her, even though she hadn’t said a word. “About to go all holier-than-thou on me? No wonder you didn’t get laid this weekend.”

“Really? I get that snap judgment snark from other people, Chaz; I don’t need it from you, so piss off.”

Amery stormed into her office and slammed the door.

She hated that Chaz could be so mean. He knew about her screwed up her childhood as the daughter of a fundamentalist Christian minister. She’d been shamed by her body, shamed by her need for physical intimacy, shamed for just about everything. Threatened by eternal punishment from God for every little transgression, but the punishments from her dad were always way worse. And her mother had just stood by and let the man of the house rule. Watching as her husband belittled and shamed Amery until the day Amery left for college.

So it wasn’t any surprise the first real relationship after she’d dated casually for a couple of years had been fucked up from the start. Tyler, star athlete, self-professed Christian boy, had played on her insecurities, manipulated her, and used her until he hadn’t needed her anymore.

Chaz had been the one to pick up the pieces. He’d always been there to bolster her when she needed it. And for him to be so harsh toward her now? She didn’t deserve it from him. She wasn’t judging him. She just wanted him to be careful. Mixing business with pleasure wasn’t a good idea.

And yet here you are, about to do a presentation for a man that you hope to get naked with very soon. Maybe you were pulling an attitude on Chaz.

But there was nothing she could do about it now—she didn’t think she had anything to apologize for. Besides, they both needed to cool off.

Amery grabbed her portfolio and her laptop and left through the back door.

Parking wasn’t any easier to find around the dojo during the day. She ended up hoofing it three blocks, so she was sweaty and wrinkled when she entered the main entrance ten minutes late.

The elevator dumped her on the second floor into one long corridor. No reception area. She followed the hallway midway down until she came to a door. BLACK ARTS was etched in the frosted glass, along with by appointment only.

Did she knock? Or walk in? Was the door locked?

After thirty seconds of indecision, Amery knocked rapidly four times and opened the door. “Sensei Black?” she said loudly as she stepped into an empty waiting area.

The big blond instructor exited from a door halfway down the hall. He beckoned her closer. “We’re in here, Ms. Hardwick.”

Amery plastered on a smile. Her heels clicked loudly on the tile floors and she wished she’d worn different shoes.

He bowed slightly and offered his hand. “I’m Knox Lofgren. We met briefly the night you signed up for the self-defense class.”

“I’m hoping you won’t hold my behavior that night against me, Shihan.”

“No. But you did manage to get under Sensei’s skin, which is as rare as it is amusing.” He pushed open the door. “Come in and get settled. Ronin is on a conference call and he’ll be in shortly. Would you care for coffee? Tea? A soda?”

“I’m good, thank you.” They’d entered a large meeting room lined with windows and a U-shaped conference table in the center. Another guy stood when she came in.

He looked . . . mean. Bald head. Tattoos decorating his arm from wrists to elbows. Tattoos peeking out from the V in his T-shirt. His eyes were the lightest blue—almost translucent. He wasn’t tall—not as big as Ronin and definitely not as big as Knox—but he was built like a cement block. Solid. Probably solid muscle. She guessed he was somewhere around her age.

“Ms. Hardwick, this is Deacon McConnell.”

Deacon also offered her a slight bow before extending his hand. “Ms. Hardwick, it is a pleasure.”

Oh, wow, he had a honey-thick Southern drawl that softened his I’m-a-badass vibe. She smiled at him. “Please, both of you, call me Amery. And I have to ask, what is your official title, Deacon?”

“Yondan. Fourth-degree black belt.”

“Technically my official title is Godan, which is fifth degree black belt,” Knox said. “Students call me Shihan as a sign of respect since I’m the second-highest belt rank in the dojo.”

She pointed to the screen on the wall. “I hope you’re not expecting a PowerPoint presentation?”

“To be honest, we weren’t sure what to expect.”

“So neither of you knows why I’m here?”

They shook their heads.

“Sensei Black approached me last week about creating a new logo for the dojo. He indicated he’s needed to do that for some time.”

Knox grinned. “Hot damn. I’m happy to hear that.”

Deacon nodded.

“Bear in mind I have limited ideas because I am waiting for more input.”

“Which they’ll be happy to provide,” Ronin said behind her.

She jumped and whirled around. “You have got to stop doing that to me, Master Black.”

“Ronin,” he murmured.

“But we’re in the dojo, aren’t we?” she murmured back.

“Technically? No. So relax.”

Knox and Deacon seemed to be watching them very closely.

“I see you’ve met Knox, my second–in-command, for lack of a better term. And Deacon, my third-in-command.”

Amery seized the chance to learn more about Ronin. She looked at Knox. “How long have you been associated with Black Arts, Shihan?”

“Since I was discharged from the service five years ago.”

“And you, Yondan?”

“Three years.”

From what she’d read about dojos and the student’s loyalty to train with one master for years, and sometimes decades, she’d expected both of these men to have been with Sensei longer.

“While we’re informal, please call us by our first names,” Knox said.

Ronin pulled out a chair for her. Then he parked himself right beside her.

Damn hard not to get flustered. Especially since the man wasn’t giving her any space. He was dressed like Knox and Deacon in a white T-shirt and white gi pants. None of them wore shoes. What had they been doing before she showed up? Working out? Sparring? Rolling around on the mats beating on each other? Why did that image make her heart pound?

“Problem?” Ronin prompted.

Her cheeks flamed. Stupid lily-white skin. She fake-coughed. “I might need some water after all.”

Amery expected Ronin to appoint either of these guys to get her a drink. But he grabbed a bottle of water from the minibar fridge and handed it to her.

She really wanted to roll the plastic bottle over her hot face, but she uncapped it and drank. Then she smiled. “You guys will want to come down here because my ideas are on the computer.”

Knox and Deacon crowded behind her. At some point Ronin had draped his arm over the back of her chair. Now he was so close she could smell his scent: sweat and laundry soap. She could feel the heat of his thigh muscle pressing against the outside of her leg. Then his fingers would absentmindedly drift across her shoulder.

The man had thrown her completely off her game.

Take control. You don’t want to look incompetent.

“I’ll run through it once as a slide show and then we can stop on individual images to see if anything pops out at you.”

She wasn’t expecting them to chatter, but their absolute silence unnerved her.

Knox spoke first. “I like images three and seven.”

“Those are polar opposites. One has clean lines. The other has Japanese influences.”

“Probably why I like them both. Any chance you could marry those two styles into something bolder?”

Amery started clicking on the keys, designing on the fly. Taking suggestions. Adding, discarding.

An hour of collaboration later, Black Arts had a great new logo. They were so pleased with it even Deacon said, “Fine job.”

Then Knox and Deacon left the conference room.

“You are very good at what you do, Amery. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you.”

“But I’ll confess I hoped it’d take a lot longer. That way we would have excuses for long lunches.”

She gave Ronin an arch look. “So you need an excuse to see me?”

Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “No.”

“Good to know. Do you want to give me a list of all the promotional items you’ll need updated? I can set up the orders with the printer and make sure everything fits—”

Ronin grabbed her by the back of the neck and stopped her jabbering with a long, deep, wet kiss. By the time he pulled back, her body shook. Inwardly. Outwardly. And Ronin took great satisfaction in his effect on her. He didn’t say a word; he didn’t have to. He just leaned in to kiss her again.

The next kiss was lazy. A sensual exploration. He caressed the side of her face while he fed her kiss after kiss. Then he cranked up the intensity. She finally understood what it meant to be weak-kneed—and she was sitting down. If Ronin kept this up she’d slide into a big puddle on the floor.

The door opened and Knox said, “Ronin, do we have—oh, shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to barge in.” Then he was gone.

Amery turned her head and rested her cheek on his. “Guess your second-in-command knows we’re . . .” Whatever this is. She’d wait to hear what term he used to explain it.

“I won’t hide the fact that we’re seeing each other. The only place it might be an issue is in the dojo during class.”

“I’m not dropping out,” she warned. “Molly needs this class, and the only way she’ll stay in it is if I’m around.”

He gently tilted her head back. “I wouldn’t ask you to quit.”

“Then I think you should let Sandan Zach teach me.”

“No. I’m teaching you.”

She did not understand why it was so important to him, but he had that don’t argue with Sensei Black look in his eyes, so she let it slide.

“But I don’t want to wait until class to see you. What are you doing tonight?”

“A Bikram yoga class. I’m exhausted afterward. Don’t you teach tonight?”

“Yes.” He sucked her lower lip and gently bit down. “Since I can’t see you tonight, have lunch with me.”

“Did you already make reservations someplace like last time?” she teased.

“No.” Ronin lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “I ordered in a light lunch and thought we’d eat upstairs at my place.”

Amery had opened her mouth to say yes when Knox walked in and headed to the minifridge for a bottle of water. He drank deeply and addressed Ronin. “Are you coming back to finish our training session?”

“No. Amery and I are having lunch upstairs.”

Knox’s jaw tightened and his gaze winged between Amery and Ronin. “I’ll remind you that you called this training session. If you’re leaving halfway through, Deacon and I won’t be around when you’re done.”

Ronin carefully placed Amery’s hand on her lap and stood. He said, “A word please,” to Knox before he brushed past him.

Might make her snoopy, but given the tension between the two macho men, something was going on and she wanted to know what. She hopped up and stood by the door. And she heard way more than she bargained for.

“Lose the attitude, Knox.”

“Or what? You gonna discipline me?”

“Maybe I need to,” Ronin said evenly. “Regardless of our friendship, I’m still your sensei and your boss.”

“What is it about that woman?” Knox demanded. “You’ve been off your game since the moment she walked into this dojo.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“I can’t explain it.”

“You mean you won’t explain it,” Knox said hotly. “Is she why you were wandering around aimlessly at the club Saturday night?”

Amery frowned. Club? What club?

“That is none of your fucking business.”

“Bullshit, Ronin. I was fucking there after Naomi, remember? And this goddamn situation has Naomi written all over it again.”

Who the hell was Naomi?

“We are not discussing this. You and Deacon are done for the day. I’ll finish up the paperwork on the job proposal for Stanislovsky after lunch.”

Amery practically ran to her seat. She didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping. She shut down her computer and looked up when Ronin reentered the room.

“Sorry about that. So about lunch?”

“Sure, if it’s not a long lunch. I always have a ton to do on Mondays.”

“Standard hour. No more.”

Amery shouldered her laptop bag and picked up her portfolio. She watched as Ronin snagged a plastic deli bag from the fridge.

“Let’s go.”

She followed him down the corridor and was momentarily confused as to why they were heading away from the elevators. They passed an enormous room that had more workout equipment than a commercial gym. She stopped and looked through the glass partition that stretched to the far wall. In one corner were stacks of mats. And standing on a mat were Knox and Deacon. They appeared to be beating the shit out of each other.

Ronin noticed she’d stopped. He backtracked and followed her gaze to the men throwing each other everywhere. “What?”

“Shouldn’t you intervene before one of them gets hurt?”

“No. They’re training.”

“For what?”

“Mixed martial arts. Deacon is a professional MMA fighter. Knox and I train him. We’re trying to build a training program, but most fighters want Brazilian jujitsu instruction as well as Muay Thai. We also train others, but Deacon is our highest-ranked fighter.”

“You train him because . . . you’re his sensei?”

“Partially. Mostly I train him because I fought in combat sports before there was MMA and I know what it takes to win.”

“Do you still fight?”

“Thirty-eight is too old to compete with twenty-something guys in their prime.”

His world was so different from hers—was that why he’d deflected the question? “So this is a separate training area for MMA competitors?”

He shook his head. “This is the training gym for all students. It’s open to them anytime during class hours. But when Knox and Deacon and I are working on techniques, we train up here, simply because it’s closer to the offices where we spend our business hours.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “How can this possibly interest you?”

Impulsively, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. “If it has to do with you, it interests me.”

Ronin wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her with breathtaking passion. It felt completely natural to lean into him and press her hands against his chest. When she shifted even closer, her laptop bag swung and connected with the bag of food, forcing her to step back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I like your hands on me, Amery.”

They stared at each other, the attraction between them getting stronger each time they were together.

“You think it’s a good idea for us to be alone in your penthouse?”

“Yes. Because the first time I fuck you I’ll need more than an hour.”

Oh. My. God. Amery just about came right then.

“Come on. Let’s eat.”

Once they were on the elevator, she said, “I don’t want to seem obsessed, but I’ve never known anyone with a private elevator. My inner eight-year-old girl is squealing with happiness at being in a real-life Barbie Dreamhouse.”

He laughed softly. “It was a cargo elevator at one time and I had it revamped. It’s key-coded after the second floor since it’s mostly used for the students to get to the gym.”

Inside Ronin’s apartment, first thing she did was ditch her heels—she noticed he didn’t wear shoes in his place. They trooped into the kitchen and he emptied the contents of the deli bag. “The plates are directly behind me. If you’d grab two small bowls too, that’d be great.”

He sliced the sandwich and put half on each plate. He divided up a container of salad into the two square bowls. Then he grabbed a fruit plate from the fridge and set it on the counter. “What would you like to drink?”

“Water is fine.”

“Sit. I’ll get it.”

This domestic side of Ronin surprised her. And pleased her because she doubted he showed this side to many people.

As she checked out the food, Ronin said, “It’s Thai chicken salad on rye. The salad is quinoa, lentils, and alfalfa sprouts in balsamic lime vinaigrette.”

“Looks delicious. And healthy.”

Ronin shrugged. “It’s how I eat.”

Amery scooped strawberries, honeydew melon, and cantaloupe onto her plate. “Is there any food you won’t eat?”

“Sushi.”

That floored her. “But . . . isn’t it, like, a law in Japan you have to love sushi?”

“I can’t stomach the stuff. And to further alienate my kind, I don’t drink tea either. Doesn’t matter if it’s hot, cold, green, orange, or some flowery shit. I pass.”

“Sake?”

“Sometimes. Has to be good sake, and there is a difference. We’ll do a taste test sometime.”

“It’d probably be wasted on me. I’m not much of a wine drinker.” Amery tucked in to her sandwich, which was probably the best chicken salad she’d ever had. And she must’ve been starving because she finished it in record time. She shot Ronin a sideways glance; he’d finished his and had moved on to his salad.

“What about you? Any ethnic type foods you won’t eat?”

“Lutefisk, which is a nasty dish that’s served around Christmastime. My dad is Norwegian, so we had it every year. My mother is of Scottish descent, so we had haggis. If I had to pick the lesser of two evils? I’d say the stuffed sheep’s intestine.”

“Haven’t had the pleasure of either and I’ll avoid such delicacies in the future.”

“Wise choice.”

Amery finished her salad and decided this healthy eating wasn’t all bad. She forked in a couple of bites of fruit and wondered how often Ronin brought women to his penthouse for meals. Had he brought Naomi here?

“Something on your mind?”

“Yeah. Who’s Naomi?” She glanced up to catch his reaction as soon as she’d said it.

Not a single change in his demeanor. “Where’d you hear that name?”

“I overheard part of your conversation with Knox. He indicated I’m like Naomi—or at least the situation between us is similar? So I think I have a right to know who she is, especially since it sounded bad.”

“You are nothing like Naomi. Knox was talking out of turn and talking out his ass.”

Amery took a drink of water. “Which is fine, but who was she to you?”

Ronin picked up the plates and carried them to the sink. After he took a long time rinsing them, he stared out the window and Amery thought she’d stepped over the line.

When he skirted the island, she wondered if he was headed to the bar and what it meant if he needed a drink to talk about Naomi. But Ronin detoured to the windows in the living area and opened them, letting the breeze wash over him.

She studied his profile. His stiff stance. Everything about this man screamed back off, but she couldn’t seem to stay away from him. She moved in behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and nestling her cheek between his shoulder blades. “We haven’t talked about exes, have we?”

“No.”

“I’ll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours. And just think, this can’t drag on for hours because we have limited time today.”

“There’s a silver lining.”

“So tell me about her.”

His voice was tinged with reluctance. “Naomi and I met at a . . . club. We seemed to have a lot in common. We dated. It became serious, meaning exclusive. Then things went to hell, like really went to hell, and it ended.”

Talk about a short and not sweet explanation. “How long were you together?”

“Almost three years.”

“How long ago did it end?”

“About that long ago.”

Ronin turned around and held her face in his hands. “You’re only the second woman I’ve brought up here, Amery. No other women have been here since Naomi.”

Was that his way of telling her she was special?

He must’ve read the question in her eyes, because he said, “Yes, that makes you—that makes this—different.” Then Ronin kissed her with bone-melting intensity, as if kissing her, giving her pleasure was his sole purpose. It was a kiss unlike any she’d ever experienced. Thrilling, scary, consuming. She wound up twisting her hands in his T-shirt, needing something to hold on to.

Ronin slowed the kiss to a soft glide of wet lips and soft smooches before releasing her. “She’s in my past.”

“I get that. But our past can seriously fuck up the present.”

His mouth brushed hers again. “Your turn. Your ex . . . ?”

“Tyler,” she supplied.

“He still live around here?”

“I’m not sure. After he dumped me four years ago, there was no further communication. I blocked him from social media. Any of our so-called friends were his friends. So it’s not like I’m having drinks with them getting status updates on his life.” Thank god.

Ronin led her to the couch. But when she tried to sit beside him, he settled her on his lap.

“Whoa. What’s this?”

“We have twenty minutes left of our lunch. I want my hands on you while you’re telling me about the douche bag dumb enough to dump you.”

Amery ran her hands through Ronin’s hair. “Fine. As long as you keep it PG. No touching below the waist.”

His hands slid to her ass. “So I can’t do this?”

She said, “No,” primarily because if Ronin kept doing that she’d end up pantsless. “You didn’t look me in the face when we talked about Naomi, so this is highly unfair.”

“I’ve got a solution.” He started kissing her neck. Soft nibbles and sucks, rubbing his smooth cheeks across her skin. “I’ll do this. You talk.”

As if she’d be able to concentrate now. When his warm mouth connected with the skin below her ear, she broke out in goose bumps and released a soft moan.

“This won’t work.” Ronin spun her around, facing her forward. “You make that sexy noise again and I’ll have you naked in less than three seconds,” he growled in her ear.

Amery couldn’t resist wiggling her ass against his erection.

Ronin pulled her hair. “Stop that and talk.”

“I met Tyler at a frat party our junior year in college. We were the only sober ones and hid out in the kitchen, talking all night.” She would stick to the basics, just as he did. “We dated, and he said he wanted to marry me after college once his baseball career was on track. When he got a tryout with the Rockies and ended up on the farm team, I decided to move to Denver.”

“Did you live with him?” Ronin brushed his fingers up and down her bare arms.

“No. At the time it was too ingrained that I’d be living in sin. If I had a ring on my finger, it would’ve been different. So we lived in the same apartment complex. Not quite a year after I moved here, I caught him screwing some skank. He said a bunch of horrible stuff, blamed his cheating on me, and I broke it off. I moved in with Chaz. Focused on my career.”

“Any other men?”

Her face flamed. “I’ve been out on a few dates, but it hasn’t progressed past that.”

Ronin kissed her neck. “He did a number on you, didn’t he?”

“Between him and my parents . . . I wonder if I’ll ever have a normal relationship.”

His hands slid up to her shoulders. The deep timbre of his voice caused her skin to vibrate when he spoke into her ear. “No such thing as normal, baby.”

Baby. Why did she like that he called her baby? Why did she get the sense he wasn’t the guy who called every woman babe or baby? Why did it make her feel special?

His hand coasted over her breasts, stopping to cup them, weigh the heft in his palms as his thumbs stroked her nipples.

Even through the cotton shirt and bra, her nipples responded. Puckering into rigid points. Making her ache.

His hot mouth skimmed over the side of her neck. “How many guys have touched you like this?”

None. But that wasn’t what he wanted to know. The demand made her bristle. “Are you willing to give me a running tally of the number of woman you’ve touched like this?”

Ronin lightly bit her neck. “Answer. The. Question.”

Amery shuddered at the eroticism of his teeth. She’d never considered biting sexy, but everything seemed new and exciting when Ronin did it to her.

“Stubborn,” he whispered in her ear. “I don’t have a scorecard. But I do have ten years agewise on you, so my tally of past dalliances will be higher by default.” He licked the shell of her ear while his hands teased her breasts. “Tell. Me.”

“Four guys,” she breathed. “Guy in my hometown who popped my cherry, a random hookup at a party my sophomore year in college, Tyler, and another random hookup last year. Happy now?”

“Very. Because with that few it’ll be easier erasing the memory of any man’s touch but mine.”

She groaned. “If you’re trying to turn me into a pile of goo, it’s working.”

“Not goo, baby. Just want you trembling in my arms.”

“I already am.”

Ronin ran his hands down her abdomen and thighs, stopping at her knees. “So you are.” He nuzzled the back of her head. “Will you come over tomorrow night? I’ll have a surprise to show you. And no, it’s not what’s in my pants.”

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

He bumped his hips up. “Our lunch hour is running out.”

Amery set her feet on the floor and stood. Then she offered him her hand to help him up. She grabbed her laptop bag and slipped on her shoes before they got onto the elevator.

Once they reached the main entrance, Ronin said, “I’m done tomorrow about eight. Can you come by?”

“Sure. I’ll text you if something changes.”

“Same goes.” Then Ronin pushed her against the wall and kissed the holy hell out of her. By the time he let her go, her mind was scrambled and she wondered if she could walk.

All that. From just a kiss.

He murmured something in Japanese to her and retreated.

Before she asked what it meant, Knox strode down the corridor. “We’ve got an issue. You able to handle this now?”

“Yes.” Ronin offered Amery a quick bow and then he was gone.