Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 66993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I got into the car and as soon as my butt hit the seat I understood why mainly royalty rode in this vehicle. The leather inside the car felt too luxurious to be real.
Soft as breath.
Cool as moonlight.
It hugged my body so perfectly that I knew I wouldn’t want to leave this car later.
I looked up.
The ceiling sparkled with embedded lights, tiny constellations above my head.
The air smelled expensive. Notes of sandalwood, jasmine, and something smoky I couldn’t place.
He shut the door, turned smoothly and walked to the opposite side of the car with the presents.
I watched him as he opened the other rear door and carefully placed the gifts on the seat further away.
“Ms. Palmer, if you need anything during the ride, just press the gold button to your right.”
I looked to my right and blinked. “Okay. Thanks.”
He closed the door and my attention remained there because on that side wasn’t just a button.
There was a panel embedded into the armrest, trimmed in gold and black enamel. Each button was labeled in delicate kanji and English and beneath the panel was a small touchscreen that lit up.
I brushed my fingers along it.
Options unfurled into a digital scroll: cabin temperature, lighting, music selection, massage seat settings, privacy glass.
Of course the seats massage you.
Beside the panel sat a slim remote.
Hmmm. Should I?
I hovered my finger over the “massage” setting on the panel.
Curiosity won.
I tapped the icon.
Immediately, the seat came alive beneath me—quiet at first, then a soft hum stirred at the base of my spine, warm and rhythmic.
Oh shit.
Skilled electrical fingers coaxed tension from bone and breath. Rolls of pressure moved up the length of my back, kneading slow circles into muscle I hadn’t even realized were tight.
Damn, Kenji. Is this really how you ride around the city?
This wasn’t just a massage seat.
This was a seductive experience.
My thighs tingled. My eyelids fluttered. The stress I’d carried for days melted. Each knot loosened.
Sighing, I let my head fall back against the rest, letting it all wash over me.
This man is so spoiled, and. . .I’m super jealous.
The chauffeur drove us away.
Enjoying my massage, I pressed another button on the screen.
Suddenly a small, curved television came on at the opposite wall.
I grinned.
Why yes. I would love some entertainment with my massage.
A Japanese pop music video played on the TV. Five women danced in stylish clothes. Behind them, the backdrop pulsed with red lanterns swaying in artificial wind. Fog curled around their feet.
I turned the volume up a little.
The music hit hard.
Alright now.
I couldn’t understand what they were saying but the song was bass-heavy and rhythmic.
Even more since the channel was on, I wondered if Kenji loved watching music videos as he drove around Tokyo.
I set the remote control down, checked out the screen again, and pressed on the glowing glass image.
A second later, a silver tray slid out from a hidden compartment in front of me and held a single crystal flute already filled with chilled champagne.
That settles it. I don’t know how many books I will need to sell but I am getting a car like this.
Keeping my balance with the massage, I took the crystal flute from its silver cradle. The chilled stem kissed my fingertips.
This is the life.
I leaned back into the seat.
The leather sighed beneath me.
Outside the vehicle, Tokyo shimmered. Lantern reds, neon golds, and icy blue-whites streaked past in blurs of electric color. Buildings rose in sharp angles and curved glass.
I took a sip of the champagne.
Mmmm.
It was cold, crisp, and delicious, slipping down my throat in a rush of silky bubbles.
My legs stretched out and my shoulders softened.
The stress I’d carried in my spine all day about this date began to unwind, unfurling with every mile the car put between me and reality.
In fact, the massage seat's pressure points found places inside me I didn't know could be touched, sending ripples of electricity across my skin that made me wonder what Kenji's actual touch might do.
The music video faded into another one showing a hot guy with muscles dancing in the middle of a busy street.
I exhaled, slow and deep, letting the luxury wash over me.
This experience is already crazy and the date hasn’t even started.
With champagne on my lips, music in my ears, and gold buttons at my fingertips, I put my view back on the window.
While the city pulsed with motion and desire, I now felt so far away from it, like I had just stepped into a dream.
Because I wasn’t truly in Tokyo anymore.
I was in his world now.
I shouldn’t have, but for a few seconds, I wondered how many other women had sat in this very seat, heading to him with their own gifts and hopes.
A tiny hint of jealousy hit me.
Next, the first chapter of When the Dragon Swallowed the Moon played out in my mind.