Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Could I really do this? Be with a man this dangerous?
Could I love someone who wore death like a second skin?
Could I get used to the taste of gunpowder in the air while I still had his kiss on my lips?
I didn’t know. I really didn’t. But I also knew I wasn’t going anywhere either. Not because I was brave, but because I was his and maybe that terrified me most of all.
I ran my fingers over my thighs, where bruises from his grip would soon bloom. And I didn’t flinch.
I welcomed them.
I relished in the ache he had left in my pussy. I savored the burn in my calves from holding myself so tightly around him.
I was still pulsing inside and my heart was booming, open, and wanting more.
Fuck. . .I dominated him, but he damned sure dominated me too. . .and. . .I want us both to do it to each other again and again until we have no idea who is in control. Meanwhile. . .he may be killing someone on the other side of the door. . .and I don’t want to run away.
This couldn’t have been healthy. It surely wasn’t smart, but it was honest. And, if I were being really honest with myself. . .maybe I’d been made for this.
I wasn’t raised by saints. My mother had loved a man in a suit who ruled a courtroom by day and ran darkness by night. A judge with a God complex and a wallet fat from bribes.
He told the world he stood for the law.
He told my mother and me he stood for God and family.
But behind closed doors, he took orders from the Italian mob, ordered hits, and had girls—young ones—brought to the back of clubs under fake names to do nasty things to him.
He was a wicked man that wore the mask of a saint.
Kenji didn’t wear masks. He wore ink, danger, and a truth so sharp it could slit throats just from him saying it. With me, he had never pretended to be anything other than what he was. And somehow, that made me feel safer.
That was why I wouldn’t run.
This reasoning alone stunned me.
I was the sort of woman who trusted no one. Who read contracts three times and smiled with her mouth closed because too many people had taken my joy and used it against me.
Yet, he made me feel so safe I didn’t even have to question myself.
Outside of the door, a man howled in horror, but that voice didn’t belong to Kenji.
Did the Dragon do that?
I hugged myself.
Yes. . .this is my life. . .
The man screamed some more.
It terrified me but. . .even now, as I heard a body fall right outside that door, I planned to stay on this throne and wait for Kenji because. . .I was his queen.
I’ve lost my mind and I don’t care.
The screaming stopped too suddenly.
My breath caught.
Heavy footsteps approached the door.
Too heavy.
Too slow.
Too unfamiliar.
My blood ran cold. . .because those weren’t Kenji’s steps.