Killian told me only minutes ago he wanted me to have some sort of choice. I’m making this choice. I’m going to stand up to this man.
My body feels hot as I watch a smile fill his face. The smile is anything but joyous. It’s wicked, promising mayhem and chaos in its wake.
What are you doing, Cleo?
“Ah, but aren’t you here to be married off? I heard your father is looking to use your hand in marriage as a bargaining tool for a treaty. The Russian leader in the area has an interested eye on you. Tell me, how do you feel about Russia?”
Haruaki moves closer as he speaks to me until there is only a sliver of space between us. My heart races, but I refuse to show him any fear.
Maybe it’s the fact that my father is only in the next room. Maybe it's that the person in the restroom will be leaving at any moment. Whatever it is, it causes me to step even closer to him, refusing to stand down. He wants me to cower. I won’t give him that satisfaction.
“Russia is gorgeous in the winter. All of that pretty snow. Much prettier than Japan I hear,” I say softly.
He mumbles something in Japanese that I recognize as a curse word as he guides me against the wall. Without touching me, yet feeling every movement of his body, he brings his hand up to ghost along my cheek.
“You like playing with fire. Does danger turn you on? If I reached my hand down into your panties, would I find you wet for me?”
As much as I hate to admit it, his words have the effect he is looking for. Just the thought of him doing exactly as he said has a sudden flush of warmth spreading through my body.
“I’m not scared of you, Haruaki.” My voice is strong as I say the words.
His deep chuckle causes chills to travel throughout my body. He brushes his hand along my throat, barely touching my skin as he says, “I could snap your throat in an instant without even trying. I could wrap my hand around your throat and squeeze until I watch the light blink out of your eyes. I could kill you and then go on with my life without another thought. Scared yet?” He murmurs.
My head becomes dizzy as it conjures the image he described. When his fingers make another pass across my neck, I shiver involuntarily, biting my lip to distract myself from the sensations in my body. I should be afraid, but my body is on edge. It craves his touch. His eyes are drawn to my lips, giving me a moment of reprieve to collect my thoughts.
Steeling my nerves, my shaky voice betrays my facade as I breathe out the word, “Nope.”
He traces his nose up the side of my face until his mouth is at my ear. “Why is that?”
“If you wanted me dead, I would be dead.”
It’s a total guess. I have no idea why I’m taunting the man. I know all about him. The deadliest man in his outfit. I’ve heard my father curse about him more than any other Yakuza. He’s quick to strike and shows no fear or regard for his own safety. That’s what makes him dangerous. He has no sense of self-preservation, meaning he acts without hesitation.
I feel him tense above me as I breathe into his neck. A masculine scent of citrus, bourbon, and smoke covers him.
It’s intoxicating. I feel myself sway closer to him, wanting more of his scent.
His voice washes over me, making me pause.
“Maybe I will go offer dear old daddy a truce for your hand. Would that scare you?” His voice has become husky, as if being close to me has affected him as well.
Swallowing down my fear, I fall back on the one thing that never fails me. My humor.
“That would be wonderful. I wouldn’t have to worry about you hurting me.”
“Did you not just hear me threaten to kill you?” he raises a brow, studying me.
“Oh, I did. I meant sexually. Everyone knows Asians are small in that department. Hell, I might even keep my virginity intact.” I let out a small laugh.
He growls, making my heart skip a beat. My palms start to sweat as I wait for his next move.
He doesn’t disappoint. He moves closer, shoving his erection against my stomach. An erection that disproves every single report that Asians are small. I gulp loudly, telling my lady bits that we cannot, under no circumstances, have this man. They don’t care. Instead, I feel my body quiver with anticipation. Begging for him to touch me. To take me.
Startled by my own feelings, I reach up, pulling his head away from my neck to meet his gaze. I need to know if he feels what I feel.
He moves willingly, his eyes meeting mine. My breaths come faster as I watch his eyes darken as they take my own in. When my tongue comes out to wet my lips, his eyes zero in on them, his own tongue coming out as if he is daring for a taste.
His hand, still resting on my neck, moves up to feather his fingers across my cheek. For a moment, I allow my eyes to close, leaning into the sensation. My skin feels sensitive, each brush of his body against mine feeling like electric currents being sent through my body.
