Page 215 of The Dragon 2
But now, standing in the center of this sacred room, half-dressed in sex and power, I felt it.
The Dragon.
Six-foot-two.
Framed in muscle that moved in a threatening rhythm beneath that black designer suit.
His shoulders were too broad for the shadows to cover. His chest strained the fabric. The line of his jaw was hard enough to cut, and his hair—black, too pretty for someone so merciless—framed a face carved by gods who clearly preferred sinners.
There was ink peeking above his collar, reminding me of his connection to the Yakuza and that he ruled Japan’s criminal underworld.
My thighs clenched.
My breath stuttered.
Still. . .I didn’t move.
Oh shit. What am I doing? Am I crazy?
But then our eyes met. . .his alpha expression broke.
Just a little.
Just enough.
Of course, it didn’t fully fall apart—Kenji would never let it—but that alpha expressionfractured.
Like heat splitting marble.
Like a stone face cracking at the corners.
The muscle in his jaw ticked.
His lips parted, just barely, like he was about to say something and forgot how.
His nostrils flared, and a single breath escaped, slow and heavy.
His eyes devoured me. Dark and low-lidded, heavy with want. Hunger lived in them—not the kind that rushed but the kind thatwaited.
Stalked.
Prayed.
There was a flash of heat, yes. But there was awe too. As if he couldn’t believe I was real. As if he’d found something he didn’t know he was starving for until just now. And it wrecked him—quietly, exquisitely, behind the eyes.
My nipples tightened.
His gaze dropped to my exposed thigh, lingered on the garter strap kissing my skin, and then to my heels.
When his eyes came back to mine, they weren’t wide with shock. They werenarrowed—like he was trying not to lose control.
Like he wanted to sin, kneel, disappear between my thighs, and forget the world ever asked him to be a king.
The air sparked with erotic electricity.
I stayed exactly where I was and kept my cape over me. “These are the rules.”
His head tilted, just a little. A flicker of interest—or submission—sparked in his eyes.Still, he said nothing.
