Samurai Game (GhostWalkers #10)(70)
Author: Christine Feehan

Azami moistened her lips, her gaze still locked with his. “You’re angry now.”

“Damn right, I am. At you. At me for being so dense that I didn’t even discuss children or protection with you.” He shoved a hand through his hair and regarded her flushed face. “Why would you think you couldn’t have a child?”

She took a breath and let it out. “Whitney said I was useless, a throwaway. What does he want most, Sam? Children. Superbabies. He conducted all sorts of experiments on me and then he threw me away. Doesn’t it stand to reason that he believes I either can’t have a child or that it would be defective?”

Sam opened his mouth to protest but snapped it closed before anything could escape. This was a big deal to her. A huge deal. Whitney had colored her entire image of herself. He’d parented her in her formative years, those vital years, and he’d treated her as if she wasn’t human. He took away her self-esteem, her worth as a human being. To a woman, at least to Azami, having a child obviously meant something important.

He took a deep breath, let it out, and pushed away the rage that churned in his gut. Fury at Whitney, that monster who would dehumanize a child so he could use her for experiments, and even more at himself for pushing her so fast because she’d turned his body into a f**king walking hard-on. What he needed to do was defuse the situation and let both of them calm down a little bit and think things through. To Azami, the subject was obviously very emotional and frightening as well as being significant to her. He was sexually frustrated as well as feeling like a complete selfish idiot.

“Let’s discuss this over tea. I’m not going to be great at it, but you can teach me. I’d like to learn how to properly prepare you a good cup of tea. You drank the tea in the war room, but you didn’t enjoy it. This is an important issue to you, Azami. We need to get it hashed out. Let’s do it over a cup of tea.”

“It would be your baby too,” she declared. “It should be an important issue to you as well. You’re so willing to be with me and you don’t fully know all the risks.” She ducked her head. “I should have disclosed everything right away, as soon as I knew you were serious.”

He had said the right thing. The tension drained from her face, and her desperate, vulnerable expression was gone. She had a point. A baby would be his. His child. He had just assumed it wouldn’t matter to her about children, because, although he wanted some, she would always be his first priority. If she couldn’t have them, or didn’t want them, so be it. He turned to lead her out of the room where their combined scents with the oil weren’t so potent. He needed a little relief himself.

He didn’t want to enjoy the fact that she was there with him, a soft whisper of silk moving through the house he’d built with his own two hands, but he couldn’t deny that just knowing she was with him, arguing or not, gave him great pleasure. He felt her fingers push into the back pocket of his jeans as she followed him down the hall to the spacious kitchen. He didn’t turn around, but his gut settled a little. At least she still wanted that physical connection between them. She hadn’t entirely abandoned the idea that they would spend their lives together.

Once in the kitchen, he filled the kettle and set it to heat on the stove before turning to face her. “I don’t have the best tea, just some teabags. I don’t drink it that often.” As in never, but once in a while Ryland and Lily came to visit and he liked to have tea for Lily.

“I brought tea with me,” she confessed. “I always bring tea with me wherever I go.” She disappeared into the large living room where she’d left a small bag with her things in it.

He loved the sight and scent of her moving around his house. He did have a terrible urge to take those pins from her hair and let it fall around her face naturally, push the shirt from her shoulders, and just put her up on the kitchen table. Dessert would be especially nice.

Sammy!

He laughed, joy flooding him. She was calling him Sammy. That was something. And she sounded as if she was laughing rather than being angry. He’d been broadcasting a little too loud there. At least she couldn’t have any doubts that he found her attractive.

“I like that you came prepared,” he said as she entered the kitchen. “I’m sorry I didn’t think about protection, Azami. I should have.”

Her lashes fluttered. Damn. He loved her lashes, and just that little movement sent heat spiraling through his body. It didn’t take much to get him going around her.

“Teach me to make the tea the way you like it.”

She smiled. “It isn’t about liking the tea, Sam. It is about the preparation. One pours oneself into the tea. You make the bowl of tea from your heart. Each movement is defined, and even the setting of the table is about the one you’re making the tea for. You must give the preparation your complete attention.”

“Show me.” He moved up behind her as she went to the counter, choosing to be just a little closer than necessary, crowding her body just a bit until he felt every breath she took. He lowered his voice and put his lips next to her ear. “Show me how you give the tea preparation your complete attention. What would you do if you were making tea for me?”

“Tea for you, at home, when we are alone, is a private tea. I have only a few things with me to make our tea special, but it will be made with all my heart.”

She looked over her shoulder, the shoulder he was leaning over, to look up at him from beneath her long lashes. His heart—and body—reacted instantly. Electricity crackled between them, little sparks leaping from his skin to hers and back.

“I have given you my heart, Sammy. I don’t know about the rest of me, we must talk first, but my heart you have, such as it is. This is my mistake, not yours. I’m pleased you want me so much. It makes me feel … beautiful. I’ve never felt beautiful before. It is a great gift you’ve given me.”

Her lips were a mere inch from his and he’d be a fool if he ignored that temptation. No one had ever called him a fool. He caught the back of her head in the palm of his hand and lowered his mouth that scant inch to kiss her. She tasted like heaven. His shirt on her was long enough to go down to her knees, adequately covering her, but she wore nothing under it and he was familiar with her body now. He’d tasted nearly every inch of her.

Sam kissed her over and over, losing himself in her, indulging his need, afraid he might never get the chance again to persuade her to stay with him. He wanted her—no, needed her. He’d been perfectly content until they’d shared a mind connection, until she had poured herself into him. She was samurai through and through. Until the doors were closed and they were alone and then she was all woman—his woman.