"If you're going to see me—" I find the sash at my waist and pull. The dress falls open, slides off my shoulders, pools at my feet. I hook my thumbs in my underwear and push them down too. I stand there bare on the tatami, arms at my sides, chin lifted. "—see me."
His eyes move over me. Hunger, banked but burning. Like he's memorizing.
"Your arms stay free." His voice has gone rougher. "You can move them, touch me, brace yourself. Whatever you need."
"But the rest of me —"
"The rest of you is mine."
Heat floods through me. Not shame.
He positions me in the center of the room, guiding my shoulders back, tilting my chin up. His hands are warm and sure, adjusting me like I'm clay he's shaping.
"This pattern is called Hishi Karada. Diamond body." He moves behind me, and I feel the rope settle between my shoulder blades. "This knot anchors everything."
His fingers work at my upper back, then the rope trails down my spine. He brings both ends around to my front.
"Breathe normally."
I try. It comes out shaky.
He creates the first knot at my sternum. I watch his hands, the way the silk loops and pulls. A vertical line of rope runs down my center, and he ties another knot below my breasts, another at my navel, another at my hips. Each one is an anchor point, placed with exacting care.
"Tell me if anything's too tight."
I shake my head, not trusting my voice.
He works in focused silence, occasionally murmuring something in Japanese. Words I don't understand but feel somehow. The rope separates from each knot, wrapping around my body, crossing at my back, returning to the front.
Each pass requires him to touch me, to reach around my body, to adjust and check. His breath is warm against my shoulder when he leans close. His fingers slide under each segment before moving on, two fingers checking tension, ensuring circulation.
When he steps back, the pattern is complete. Diamonds of red silk frame my torso, running below my collarbone, around my breasts, at my waist, across my lower belly. A final knot at my lower back mirrors the one between my shoulder blades.
"How does that feel?"
"Like being held everywhere at once."
Need breaks across his face. Raw, unguarded. He covers it quickly.
My breathing has changed. Deeper, slower. My nervous system has finally decided it's safe to stop running.
He steps back. His breath goes uneven, barely, but enough to make my skin flush.
"Angelina." The word comes out strained. "Look at me."
I turn. His eyes move over me, taking in the diamonds, the silk, the way the pattern emphasizes and frames. His hands have curled into fists at his sides.
"Fuck." Barely a whisper.
"Is it —"
"You have no idea." He closes the distance between us, hands sliding up my arms. Not touching the rope yet. Just my skin. "You have no idea what you look like right now."
I want to believe him. I don't.
He reads it on my face. Of course he does.
"Come here."