Next, he slammed the door and stomped into the closet.
Wow. Dramatic much?
I let out a long breath.
From inside the closet, I heard the sounds of Kenji moving—drawers sliding open with more force than necessary, hangers clicking, fabric rustling, a low growl of frustration, then the distinct sound of a zipper.
He was getting dressed.
Finally.
I walked back to the door and opened it slightly, catching the attention of one of the guards. "Could you finish setting up, please?"
The guards moved immediately, probably grateful for permission. They hurried in with chairs and a small table, positioning it near the window where morning light streamed through.
Their movements were quick, efficient, and practiced.
In the hallway, I could see the other guards had wasted no time with their surprises. They'd already opened their bento boxes and were eating the banana bread. Some of them dipped thick slices into the small containers of whipped cream and caramel sauce I'd packed.
One guard closed his eyes as he chewed, and I had to bite back a smile.
Another nodded at me in thanks.
They like it.
God, that felt good.
The closet door opened behind me, and I turned.
Kenji emerged wearing black pants—perfectly tailored, sitting low on his hips—and nothing else.
His chest was still bare, all those tattoos and muscles on full display. His hair was slightly mussed from whatever war he'd waged with his clothing. His eyes found mine immediately, dark and intense.
My breath stuttered.
I honestly wasn't sure which version of him was the sexiest—pants on or pants off.
Both messed with my mind in different ways and made my knees weak. Naked Kenji was lusty power and primal obsession. Partially dressed Kenji was controlled danger with a hint of erotic civilization.
The guards finished arranging the table and chairs, then filed toward the door. They moved around Kenji carefully, and he watched them go with that predatory stillness he did so well.
The door clicked shut.
We were alone.
“Perfect. Let’s eat.” I turned toward the food cart, ready to finally sit down and eat.
Fast, Kenji's hand closed around my arm. “Hold on, Tora.”
What?
He pulled me to him in one smooth motion, spinning me until my body collided with his chest. His other hand cupped the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair.
Then he kissed me.
Intensely.
His mouth claimed mine with a hunger that had nothing to do with breakfast and everything to do with dominance.
