GhostWalkers 10 - Samurai Game

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’remaking 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 wereclosed and they were alone and then she was all woman—his woman.
    When he lifted his head, her eyes had gone liquid. She smiled at him that little mysterious smile that made his stomach do a slow flip.
    “Go sit down, Sam, and let me do this. I will show you another time, when I have all my things with me.”
    He liked the idea that there would be another time, so he didn’t argue. Toeing around a chair from the table, he straddled it and rested his chin on his hands on the back of the chair, watching her intently.
    She placed a wooden box on the table with a small bow and opened it quite reverently. Inside the box were tea utensils mostly made of ceramic or bamboo. He could tell the instruments were quite old and