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)
“Yet. . .” Her lashes fluttered, but she didn’t look away. “I can say no.”
A wicked smile spread across my face. “This lovely city that you’re in is mine.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“And everything within my city listens to me. Everyone obeys.”
“Except me.”
“Let us hope we never have to test that.”
“You better hope we don’t have to test that.”
“My Tiger and her very sharp claws.”
“It’s not claws. I just have the right to say no, and you will listen.”
“I will not listen. It’s just your mouth, but. . .” I slipped my gaze down to her breasts. “I will always, obey your body before I ever obey your words. And your body—your pupils, your breath, the way your legs shift when I speak like this—has never once whispered no to me.”
She smirked. “So, you’re a body whisperer now?”
“Yes. And I hear your pussy.”
“She talks to you?”
“No, Tora. She calls to me.” I closed the tiny distance and brushed my lips just barely across her cheek. “And tonight, I will answer her.”
“And it won’t be in your hoe pad.”
I groaned and leaned back in my chair. “It will not, but I must stress that it is an elegant suite—”
“Negative hundred points.” She pointed at me.
I leaned over and kissed the tip of her finger. “Give me those points back.”
“Absolutely not. Now, you will have to earn them back.”
Stunned, I stared at her.
Earn? Negative points? Did she know who she was talking to?
I’d taken a lot in this life—through silence, through blood, through strategy. Fear was a tool. Force, a language. Finesse, the signature I left behind.
But Nyomi. . .
She told me I had to earn her.
No woman had ever told me that. No one had ever made me pause before claiming, before possessing.
Naughty Tora.
I glanced at Hiroko, who lingered in the shadows, smiling like a woman who had seen this kind of power unfold before.
But, how much had Hiroko heard?
Even more important, how much of this had Hiroko taught Nyomi?
There couldn’t have been enough time for Hiroko to teach this much defiance to Nyomi. No. . .I don’t think this is Hiroko’s doing.
That fire in Nyomi’s eyes and strength in her tone wasn’t performance or imitation. This must have already been rooted deep within my Tiger. It was the thing that triggered her to knee me when we first met.
Maybe it was the Bronx in her. That fire-forged grit masked beneath a curvy body.
Or maybe the thing flowing within her was older. Wiser. Something passed down by her grandmother with every wooden spoon and side-eye.
Whatever it was. . .she was making me want to set down the blade. Tame the storm in my chest. Smooth the edges of a life carved by violence.
Just to be worthy of the way she looked at me.
Earn. . .What is she doing to me? What is she saying?
Still, I had to show her that I was the fucking Dragon. I pointed at her. “You will be in my mansion tonight, and no woman has been there. Not one. That must erase the negative points.”
“First of all, I’m keeping score. Not you. Second of all, I will not be in your mansion tonight as I’ve already explained.” She lowered her hand. “But I would like to know something.”
“What?”
“Why won’t you bring women to your mansion? You said it was too quiet."
I tapped a finger against the glass. "I’ve never brought women there because. . .it’s mine.”
“Meaning?”
“That bringing someone there means more than sex or company. It’s. . .sharing."
"And you didn’t want to share yourself with them?"
“Not with them, but. . .” I met her gaze. "with you. . .I do want to share, so give me my points back.”
“Earn them.”
I sneered, but it was playful. “You will be the first woman to walk through my halls. The first to sleep in my bed.”
She swallowed, and I knew she had been unprepared for my confession. “That can’t be true.”
“But it is.”
“How could that be?”
“Because I had other places.”
“Hmmm.” She tilted her head and appeared to be assessing me. “In a way. . .that’s oddly fascinating. Philosophically, it makes sense.”
“What makes sense?”
“You’re not having women coming to your mansion. You probably don’t let people into your space because you don’t want them to see your cracks."
"Or touching them."
"Exactly."
“And more. . .I don’t want them judging the cracks. Whereas. . .I don’t think you would judge them. Maybe that’s why. . .now I only want to share my place with you."
“Hmmm.” Her lips parted just slightly, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to smile or speak.
Soon, the music shifted again—this time to a richer groove, thick with bass and silk.
The waitresses returned, gliding in like ghosts. Each carried a single jet-black bowl and placed them in front of us.
Steam rose from each one.
The smell hit me first—creamy, briny, with something citrus-laced floating beneath the surface.