The Dragon 4 – Tokyo Empire Read Online Kenya Wright

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors: Kenya Wright Advertisement1

Advertisement2

Men like him—with this much power—probably never even thought about things like that. They probably expected their women to be little pets.

Decorative.

Obedient.

Waiting naked at home.

But Kenji saw me as my own individual. With my own passions. My own thoughts. My own purpose.

And that meant everything.

I kissed him.

Deeply.

Romantically.

His lips parted against mine, and I tasted honeyed tea on his tongue.

He groaned low in his chest, and his arms came around me as he breathed me in.

The kiss deepened. His tongue stroked against mine, slow and thorough, like he had all the time in the world and planned to use every second exploring my mouth.

I melted into him, into the heat, strength, and possession.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, I looked up at him. "What do we do now? Should we start talking about finding the spy now?"

He looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like he was so deeply in love it hurt and scared him. "We should, Tora, but. . ."

I raised my eyebrows. “But what?”

"I want my men to continue to rest. I have a feeling Reo has not truly gotten to sleep today."

"No. He's been keeping up with everyone."

"And Hiro. . ."

I bit my lip. "I don't think Hiro has been sleeping much."

Worry flickered in Kenji's eyes. “I don’t think so either.”

"However, I'm hoping, that after breakfast, he'll go to sleep."

"Yeah." Kenji's hand came up to cup my face. "Let's let them rest for now. While it is dangerous that the spy is here on the island, we're still in a strong position. Tokyo is in chaos. The Fox has not called. He’s rattled and too busy hiding, probably wondering why he can’t get in touch with any of his spies that he placed with me. Meanwhile, in Paris the Butcher has not found my spies. He is thinking and plotting, but he can wait.”

“Okay, so then. . .”

“I just want some more quiet time with you today, Tora. Let’s do something alone, just us two."

"Yeah." I leaned into his touch. "Let's spend some time together."

But even as I said it, even as I settled back into his arms, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered a warning.

I hope we don't regret this quiet time. I hope we don't regret pausing the war for love.

Chapter eighteen

Love and Hydration

Kenji

Before I could take Nyomi away on my special surprise date, she insisted that she needed time to do her hair. Apparently, yesterday's water play had "ruined her parts" and "reset her pattern."

I had no idea what either of those things meant, but I nodded like I did—the same way I'd navigated a thousand criminal business negotiations.

Except this time, I wasn't hoping to gain leverage. This time I wanted her to know I would try to understand her world, even the small rituals that were hers alone.

When she smiled and said she would handle it quickly, I should have waited in the other room.

Got dressed myself.

Made calls.

Checked messages.

Pondered war strategy.

Instead, I followed her into the shower because I'd realized I didn't want to spend even that small slice of time away from her.

When had that happened?

When had alone time stopped feeling like freedom and started feeling like deprivation?

We took off our clothes, and I turned on the shower. The steam filled the space within seconds, fogging the glass and softening everything around us.

Grabbing a shampoo bottle, Nyomi stepped under the spray first. Her dark brown skin glistened as water streamed down her back. The scent of her shampoo filled the air—rich and creamy with notes of coconut, shea butter, and a sweetness I couldn’t name.

I stood behind her, completely captivated. The moment she tilted her head back, water poured through her curls in tiny rivulets, each strand absorbing and releasing light.

Fuck. She’s so beautiful. How did I survive all these years without this view?

I'd never shared a shower with a woman before.

Not once.

Sex had always been lusty or transactional. Limited to hotel rooms that never progressed to morning routines. Encounters always ended with departures, not domesticity.

For some odd reason. . .I'd always kept that line drawn.

Yet now I was realizing that sex was one thing, but the intimacy of routine, of witnessing the unguarded moments. . .that was quite another.

I could do this every day.

An urge, raw and primal, pulsed through me, lighting my veins on fire. The sight of her body, the sound of water against her skin, the sweet scent of her shampoo; they all coalesced into a symphony of hot desire that was impossible to ignore.

I reached out, my hands longing to explore the territory of her back, the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips.

The warm wetness of her skin sent a shiver racing down my spine and I couldn't help but marvel at her.


Advertisement3

Advertisement4