His grey shirt stretched across his chest, still damp from whatever rushed shower he'd taken. The fabric clung to the hard planes of his body and left nothing to my imagination. The edgesof his tattoos crept past his collar and along his forearms— dark ink against golden skin.
His gaze seared me across the room, and the air between us collapsed.
My heart slammed in my chest.
I crossed the dining room before my brain caught up to my legs.
Once near, I hit his chest hard enough to hear the breath leave him, and his arms locked around me—one across my back, the other cradling the base of my head. He crushed me against the solid heat of him so tight my ribs ached.
And I relished in the pain and pleasure of it.
His heartbeat hammered fast against my cheek as if his body hadn't caught up to the fact that the battle was over.
The heat of him soaked through his shirt and into my skin, and every hard ridge of muscle pressed against me.
“Fuck, Kenji. You’re back.” I buried my face in his neck and breathed him in. Under his lush smoky scent, was the faint copper of dried blood beneath the clean soap. He smelled like war and the effort to wash it off.
His voice rumbled through his chest and vibrated against my cheek. "I'm okay, Tora."
I pulled back just enough to see his face. My vision blurred. Warm tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop it. "You’re hurt?"
“But I’m still strong, still standing.” He raised his hand and caught the tears with his thumb. His calloused skin slid warm across my cheekbone. Then, he held my face, and his gaze moved from my eyes to my hair. Those dark irises traced the goddess braids, following the pattern Deja's hands had woven. His jaw loosened. His grip on my waist tightened.
A low groan rolled out of him.
That sound went straight through me, vibrated down my spine, and pooled warm at the base of my stomach.
"Mmmm. Tora, I like your hair." His fingers found one of the braids and he traced it from root to tip.
I smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Oh yes.” Then he gathered a fistful of braids at the base of my neck and gently tugged. Testing it.
I blinked. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing, Tora.” His gaze went dark. A groan rolled out of him so low I felt it in my teeth. "We're going to have some fun tonight."
I sucked my teeth and moved his hand out of my hair. "First of all, I need to apologize."
He tilted his head. “Why?”
"I was supposed to teach you that you are never to touch a Black woman's hair, especially after she gets it done."
He quirked his brows. "Who isn't supposed to touch your hair?"
“You.”
He grinned as if I told a joke.
"It's a whole thing, Kenji."
“Notourthing.” He ran his fingers through the braids again and groaned. The sound was absolutely indecent. "Yes. I like this very much."
He tugged again, and my knees almost buckled. "Perhaps we will keep the stylist on the island until the war is done."
"Oh God."
Kaoru laughed from behind us. “I told you. Two days.”
