Chapter 10

Wait. What? "Are you… blackmailing me with… sex?"

"I don't know." His hips pulled back a fraction of an inch. "Would it work?" her answering whimper was proof.

It would.

Even knowing the game he played, Mamori was a hairbreadth from promising anything Youichi asked for – if it meant he would finish what he started. Only, somehow in the past seconds, her stalled-out mind had sputtered to life again. Weakly turning over the events unfolding around her. Events that would shape the rest of her life. "No," she choked out, forcing her hands to be still. Her eyes to open and meet the burning blue-green of Youichi's stare.

"Damn."

She could see the indecision in his eyes… the debate whether to try again. Try harder. A tremor of hope slipped through her belly at the thought. One she ruthlessly pushed aside. "What is this?" she asked, waving a hand between them. He shook his head, an almost bewildered look on his cocky face. "It's hot."

It was more than hot. "It's distracting. I can't think."

"Good, agree to give me three months."

But before she could even contemplate giving him three minutes, his mouth was over hers again, his tongue sliding between her lips in a slow, seductive thrusts. Once again tempting her reservations to abandon their posts.

Her heart racing, breath ragged, she shook her head, forcing her hands to center at Youichi's chest and then giving him a small push. She couldn't agree to anything. Whatever state she was in last night, at this moment, the impairment of her judgment was at record level.

"Mamori," he murmured, watching her form beneath heavy lids. Oh, hell, that look. She swallowed, taking a step back. And then another. She needed to get away. Needed space to breath. To think.

"Come on, baby. Don't run away. Let's sit down and talk." Her gaze shot to the couch. Within a blink, it had become fodder for more scenarios than her experience could justify – a den of seduction, rife with erotic potential. She had been reading a lot of adult books lately… she blushed.

"I'll keep my hands to myself," Came another low rumbling assurance, pulling her focus back to Youichi. Standing where she'd left him, the shirt she'd been trying to free him of spread wide to reveal the hard muscles banding his abdomen and the perfect discs of his nipples. Her mouth watered as another couch-side scenario accosted her. "Sure you will." Fine, maybe he would. Maybe it wasn't his hands she was worried about. "Don't believe me? You could always tie my hands." Youichi grasped one end of the tie hanging loose at his open neck, let it twist around his finger as he held it out in offering. His wicked, fanged smile pushing new limits. "Unless you'd prefer–"

"No!" okay, it definitely wasn't his hands she was worried about. And with what she was thinking, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to sit on any couch again, let alone that one. She forced her feet to move one after the other until she cleared the stairs and made the master suite again. Arms crossed, she gripped the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head. Stepped into the shower and jerked the tap cold, bracing for the crush of clarity she prayed the icy deluge would bring.

"Agggghghh!" she half shrieked as arctic needles fired against her overheated skin, coating her body with the cold wash of reason returned.

She had been about to agree to… well, anything!

Marriage.

Moving across the country.

And God help her, even with the chill of reality raining down over her… all she could think about was the way his kiss had all but consumed her.

A low groan of reluctant need slipped past her lips, and she positioned her face beneath the pounding spray, waiting for the cold to beat its way through her thick skull and snuff the smoky thoughts in her mind and the fire blazing through her veins.

"Damn, woman. I love it when you make sounds like that." The lock. She hadn't even thought about it. Blinking the running water from her eyes, she turned to look out the clear glass of the shower to see Youichi leaning against the wall across the room. His half smirk was at full strength, seductive and hungry. "What are you doing in there, fucking woman?"

"Trying to clear my head."

One brow arched and he pushed off the wall, his predatory gaze sliding over her body. Why wasn't she embarrassed by his obvious perusal? Not that there was anywhere to hide. The clear glass was more a display case than any kind of shelter from searching eyes. And yet, his eyes felt natural. Easy. Not at all the way she'd felt with other men, but then, she'd been working outside the norm from the word go that morning. She should really stop making the comparisons.

"Hmm. Clarity looks fucking good on you. Maybe I could use some too."

This time it was Mamori's mouth that tipped. Definitely. This guy needed to have the fire inside him doused. "You think?" Youichi's hands were on his half open fly, finishing the job she'd started down in the entryway. And then he was stepping out of his tuxedo pants, leaving them in a heap on the floor as he took a step towards the shower.

Mamori's mouth dropped open as she realized exactly what she'd been inviting. Was her brain ever going to work right around him, or at all, again? His hands moved to the black boxers straining atop the force of his erection. Those went next, and then he was completely, mouthwateringly naked. His body more beautiful than her fantasies could have imagined. He was closing the distance between them. Coming for her. Opening the glass door, his eyes blazing hot enough to make her body burn even under–

"What the fu–?" he barked out as he hopped into the far corner of the shower.

Mamori knew she probably shouldn't have laughed, but there was something decidedly satisfying in, for once, not being the one caught off guard. And the stunned confusion etched across the frozen mask of Youichi's face was simply too irresistible.

The rapidly thawing mask of confusion.

"You did that on purpose," he charged, maintaining his position beyond the stream of water. "You said you wanted the clarity," she answered, her body going alert as his focus narrowed on her breasts and then lower. They were both naked. Standing at opposite ends of the oversized stall. The second Youichi grabbed for her, she darted out the door, laughing. "Who was I to stop you?"

A deep growl sounded behind her as she reached for the plush warmth of the robe folded over the lip of the tub. Wrapping up, she turned back to the shower and froze. Hands flat against the wall above the tap, muscles flexed and straining, Youichi, braced beneath the spray as the cold beat over his body. Then with a shake of his head, he focused on her. Where she stood beyond the glass.

"I'll be honest, this doesn't work as well as I'd expected it to."

"My thoughts exactly," she answered, half mesmerized by the picture before her. "Mamori, I'm trying really fucking hard to stay where I am right now, but if you don't walk out that door, I'm going to walk out of this one and put you against it."

Her mouth fell open.

First the couch. Now the door. It was as if he had seductive superpowers with his ability to infuse the most mundane household objects with deviant potential. "Or maybe that's what you're waiting for." The promise in his voice was what had her feet moving past the threshold, where she dared one glance back at Youichi, who stood watching her, his expression dark, smile spread wide across his face.

Youichi's palm hit the tile with a wet smack as the smile slid from his lips and he swore heavily.

Tempted as she was, she wouldn't take the risk. Grabbing the soap, he scoured his body with rough strokes, using the task to give himself the time he needed to work through his options. But damn it, none of them were going to give him what he wanted. Mamori coming home with him. Sure, he was fairly certain, even though it went against her general morals, if he offered Mamori no strings, he'd have her beneath him before the water dried from his body. But he didn't want a single night with her. He wasn't after the dog-and-pony show of dating either. Even with someone like Mamori, he didn't want to sink another year into a relationship lacking the authenticity of people who knew they were in it for more than a three or four hour window at a stretch.

He didn't want to see her at her best. Primped and prepared for some night of romance. He didn't want to be waiting for the real to start.

He wanted the real right now.

And he'd had it. Until it spilled through his fingers like a turnover in a football game. Now, no matter how he tried to show her what it had been like, tell her what he'd learned, make her feel the insanity of the connection between them… it wasn't the same. Wasn't enough. She was going to fly away tomorrow. And nothing he did was going to stop her. Jerking the tap off, he rubbed the water from his eyes and shook out his hair.

Then, wrapping a towel around his hips, he readied himself for the goodbye he was certain awaited on the other side of the door. Or more likely down in the living room. But definitely not on the couch. Enough fucking around. He swung the bathroom door open, determined to face the music like a man – and rooted to his spot, stunned by the sight of Mamori, swimming in her giant robe, feet tucked beneath her in the wingback at the far corner of the master suite.

"Okay," she said, nervously wringing her hands. "I'll be your wife."

Mamori was talking, but damned if he understood a word she said after I'll be your wife. In a heartbeat he crossed the room and had her in his arms. Her mouth was still moving when his crushed down, silencing the words he hadn't been able to follow. She could tell him later, when the adrenaline rush deafening him to everything but the roar of victory quieted inside his head. Until then, he would keep her mouth busy with something more productive than talk.

Hands splayed over his chest, she pulled back from him, laughing even as he tried to follow her retreat. "Wait," she pleaded, her hands moving from his chest to frame his jaw. "Wait, Youichi. We need to get a few things straight before we go any further."

Walking them back to the bed, he shook his head. "Later. Postnuptial agreement, whatever, we'll work it out. Tomorrow."

"No, that's not what–" Then, twisting her head around, she looked behind her. "No, Youichi. I'm serious. Not the bed–"

Only, he was already tipping Mamori back onto it. "I know you liked the door idea, but give the bed a chance. You won't be disappointed." And then his mouth was on hers again, his hand following the smooth line of her thigh to her bare hip. Hell, yes, she was arching into him, for him, moaning around the thrust of his tongue, clutching at his shoulders and then his hair. Opening wider to him and following the retreat of his tongue with the light flick of her own.

She was so sexy. She was his.

And he was going to taste every…single…inch of her tonight. His mouth was on her neck, his tongue sliding over the rapid beat of her pulse when Mamori's muffled curse, followed by an urgent wriggle and squirm, had him pulling back to meet her eyes.

"Damn it."

Her face screwed up into a knot of acute frustration, making Youichi pull back even more as, baffled, he watched her scoot from the bed. "Now, Youichi. We need to talk now. Because I can't agree to everything. We need some ground rules."

"Ground rules." He didn't like the sound of that. "Such as?" tightening the belt on her robe, she shifted her weight and squinted at him. "No sex."

Youichi's teeth ground down as he drew a long breath through his nose. "You mean…tonight?"

But even as he asked, he knew the answer. "No. I'm talking about at all. Through the three trial months." Forcing himself to laugh instead of swear, he shook his head. "Forget it, Mamori. This is a real marriage we're trying, and sex is a healthy, normal part of it."

"It's too distracting," she protested. "I couldn't even think straight when you and I were–"her hand waved back and forth through the air between them "–on the bed. And I'm talking about changing the plans for the rest of my life. I need to be able to think." His brow furrowed. "You'll have plenty of time to think. How about I promise not to 'distract' you when we're discussing something important?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure your concession is going to be enough. When we're together…even just a kiss… Youichi, I can't think enough to tell you to stop when my future is on the line." Okay, grinning like a fool probably wasn't sending the right message, but damn, he liked what he was hearing. "You seem to manage it pretty well… and more than once."

"Barely!"

"Have I mentioned how happy I am you married me?"

"Youichi, I'm serious–"

"I'm serious too," he said, following her off the bed and taking her shoulders in his hands. "As far as getting pregnant goes, obviously we'll wait until you're confident this is the life you want. But sex? Not a chance. I'm going to seduce you, Mamori Anezaki."

"I'll say no," she whispered, her eyes already drifting to his mouth.

"Fair warning–" his thumb moved over to the pale pink line where her bottom lip became skin "–if you do, I'll stop." She nodded, closing her eyes when the motion caused him to stroke across that bit of sensitive flesh. So beautiful.

"I know you will."

Her eyes opened, and this time she looked him over from damp head to precariously situated towel to toe and back again, as though steeling herself against temptation. This was his fucking wife! The muscles in her throat moved up and down as she swallowed. Twice. Then those gorgeous blue pools blinked up at him, determination doing its damndest to put in a appearance.

"I can resist you."

Youichi gave in to the slow grin pushing at his lips. "You can try."