Waiting.
And God, he was devastating.
He wore a tuxedo. Black as midnight, cut so precisely it looked painted onto his body.
The jacket hugged the broad expanse of his shoulders, tapered along the narrow line of his waist, and fell in clean lines.
The lapels were satin.
His white dress shirt was crisp beneath, the collar sharp, but he'd left the bow tie undone. In fact, the black silk hung loose around his neck as if Kenji were saying,“Yes, I'll give you the fairy tale. But I'm still the Dragon underneath.”
My thighs clenched.
Damn, baby.
His hair was slicked back from his face, still damp, emphasizing the sharp cut of his cheekbones. The strong line of his jaw. The way his neck met his collar, that slice of tattooed skin visible just above the white fabric.
Diamond cufflinks glinted at his wrists.
His hands were in his pockets—casual, patient—but there was nothing casual about the way he watched me approach.
Those dark eyes tracked my every step.
Hungry.
Possessive.
Ready to devour.
My mouth went dry.
This man.
He was sin wrapped in silk.
Danger draped in designer.
He's the villain in a fairy tale. . .
I smirked.
The one who stole the princess and made her grateful for it.
And God help me. . .my body and I were very grateful.
And even from my distance, I saw him stop breathing for a few seconds.
I finished walking through his empire to reach him. Past even more Dragon markers crouched on rooftops.
And Kenji continued to watch every step.
His eyes never left me. His body had gone completely still—the kind of stillness predators achieved before they struck.
Soon, I reached the clearing by the river.
And Kenji moved. “Tora.”
He crossed to me in two strides, took my hands in his, and just. . .looked. His eyes traced every inch of my face. My braids pinned up simply. The column of my throat. The phoenix gown that shifted and shimmered like a living flame.
