Bound

She pushed up on her elbows, trying to play it cool even though her body had gone haywire. Her chest was heaving; her panties were damp. Her br**sts ached for his touch—his mouth, his hand, his chest, she didn’t care. She also tuned out the voice in her head warning her not to sleep with him on the first date. She’d played it safe, always been a good girl—yet something about Ronin Black made her want to throw caution to the wind for the first time . . . ever.

Ronin stared at her. His breathing was equally labored. “As much as I’d like to strip you and f**k you until we knock this mattress off the platform, I didn’t bring you into my home for this.” He angled close enough to curl his hands around her face. “This will happen between us, but not now. Not even tonight.” Then he kissed her once more.

His kiss was a promise, a tease and completely . . . sweet.

Ronin Black . . . sweet? Totally unexpected.

He stood and waited for her at the edge of the platform.

Feeling free, she laughed and leaped to her feet, bouncing in the center of the bed. “This is a springy mattress. I bet when I’m under you I won’t even feel the mattress coils digging into my spine.”

Another growling noise. “Tempting the beast while still in the cage might not be the wisest course of action for you.”

Ooh. A philosophical threat. “I’ll stop.” Amery bounced once more before landing on her feet.

“Let’s eat.” Ronin held her hand and towed her back to the kitchen.

“So, did you really cook for me?”

“I really did.” He pointed to the place settings at the counter. “Have a seat.”

Amery studied the space. The kitchen, like every other area in this enormous loft, was spacious and uncluttered. But he did have a few whimsical pieces in here. Ceramic salt and pepper shakers shaped like samurai warriors. A fruit bowl entwined with dragons.

Ronin poured her a glass of white wine. “Poached salmon okay?”

“Sounds perfect.” She squinted at the double oven. “Are you cooking it right now?”

“It’s done. Why?”

“It doesn’t reek like fish in here. That’s the thing I hate about cooking fish at home. Takes a day to get the smell out.”

“These ovens have exceptional ventilation, or like you, I’d rarely cook fish.”

She sipped the wine. Very dry. Maybe she could choke down one glass. She’d seem unsophisticated if she admitted she preferred wine coolers to actual wine.

Ronin didn’t bustle around the kitchen. No wasted movements as he removed the pan from the oven. He scooped out a piece of salmon, arranged it on a square red plate, and doused it with a spoonful of yellow sauce. He added a scoop of risotto from a pan on the stove and slid the plate onto the bamboo place mat. He plated his own food before he grabbed two bowls from the fridge and set one beside her.

“Ronin. This is amazing.”

“Maybe you should taste it first before you say that,” he said dryly.

Amery sliced a chunk of the flaky fish and popped it into her mouth. The sauce wasn’t lemony as she’d expected, but orange and mint. “I stand by what I said. This is amazing.”

He nudged the bowl of greens toward her. “Spinach, kale, and bok choy salad with a spicy peanut yogurt dressing.”

She bumped her shoulder into his. “This is an incredibly healthy meal, isn’t it?”

“It’s a staple in my cooking repertoire.”

“Good. I was afraid maybe this was your way of telling me to lay off the Keebler fudge-striped cookies.”

Then her chin was in his hand and Ronin was right in her face. “You are beautiful. Every inch of you. I’d never presume to change you, Amery, only enhance what I know is already there. And if eating Keebler fudge-striped cookies makes you happy, eat them.”

Okay. His intensity even when he was trying to be cute was a little scary. So why was she tempted to kiss him? Nibble on his lips, wanting his flavor on her tongue along with the food?

“You are trouble,” he murmured, “although I do like that you look as if you’d rather take a bite out of me than the food.”

“You caught me.”

Ronin lightly kissed her lips and returned to his meal.

The silence lingering between them wasn’t awkward. If Ronin had something to say, he’d say it; she appreciated that he wasn’t the type of guy who yammered on because he had a wealth of knowledge to share. Besides, she preferred a quiet dinner to the dinners she’d suffered through growing up, where her parents grilled her about everything and would lecture her endlessly on mistakes that would put a mark against the entire family.

“You’re picking at the salad. My feelings won’t be hurt if you don’t like it.”

“No, it’s not that. This is delicious. I was just thinking it’s refreshing we don’t have to talk all the time. It’s like people are afraid of silence.”

“And you’re not?” he asked.

Amery shrugged and swigged her wine. “I work alone seventy percent of the time. I don’t have music playing in the background. I don’t call people and spend hours on the phone. To be honest, I think being content with silence is out of the norm. Chaz can’t work without his iPod blaring in his ears. Every thirty minutes he has to wander around and see what everyone else is doing. Even Molly wears earbuds most of the time she’s in the office.”

“What about Emmylou?”