Survival instincts my ass… I could sleep in the lion's den and only be disturbed by the sounds of the house coming to life, people moving around downstairs and what sounds like red laughing loudly.
The normality of the sounds isn’t lost on me. I’m not sure what I’d expected today but this isn’t it.
The alluring scent of bacon was also not featured on that list which may or may not have included a drug deal at breakfast and a hit by noon.
Fat was right, I do have a wild imagination.
Fat?
Odd name for someone who doesn;t have a spare inch of it anywhere. He was thicc. Dummy thicc; the memory of his muscled thighs straining the fabric of his sweats would occupy permanent real estate in my head. And speaking of inches… Slapping my hands over my face, I groan in self-disgust.
I’m going to pretend that I’d never seen the outline of his cock. What I’m definitely not going to do is replay how impossibly thick he is when flacid.
Toyomitsu, I remind myself. The woman who’d brought dinner to me had called him that. I sound it mutely. Fitting.
A knock on the door makes me sit up moments before he pops his head in. The respect of privacy is another surprise, albeit a pleasant one. Good to know he isn’t going to barge in like he owns the place, even if he does.
“Good morning,” his voice is rough with sleep.
Did he come straight here after waking up? Shit, how crazy is my hair?
Resisting the urge to check, I greet him softly.
“We’re having breakfast downstairs.”
“We?” Was there some kind of Yakuza gathering being held downstairs? Were they about to decide what they were going to do with me?
“Yes, we,” he reiterates. “I’d appreciate it if you joined us and left whatever mob movie scene is on loop in that little head of yours here.”
God, his smile is fucking everything, making me pause for a moment just to soak it in then he barges into the room and takes a seat on the bed.
“These are Himari’s,” he says, setting down a small pile of clothes and looking a little sheepish. “I didn’t really think this through, not the practical side of it anyway. We’ll get you some stuff online after we’ve eaten.”
I look from him to the clothes and back again. “Uh… thanks.”
“I’ll leave you to it. Meet me downstairs.”
He pats the cover above my thigh before walking to the door, pausing only to look back at me while I try to tear my gaze from where his hand had been a moment ago.
“Be sure to order whatever shampoo you used before you got here. I like the way it smells.”
This son of a bitch,
I glare at the door once he’s closed it like that request wasn’t out of pocket.
Son of a fucking bitch.
Breakfast with him is awkward.
Everyone else has cleared off and there’s nothing taking his attention from me. I can feel his scrutiny, tangible as a caress I’m unable to shrug off.
Is there a polite way to run away from the table without a word?
“You’re not listening to me,” he says and I lift my eyes to his before glancing away.
He isn’t wrong. I’ve been staring at this poached egg like I’ve never seen anything more interesting in my life.
He sighs, running a frustrated hand through his hair, leaving it as dishevelled as I am on the inside. “I can see you’ve made up your mind and I don’t blame you. Himari will help you shop for whatever you need to feel more comfortable here.”
“Thank you,” I mumble at my plate.
Christ why is he being so accommodating?
“You’ve been glaring at that egg like it owes you money. Will you at least try to eat something for me, please?”
He smiles when I take a sullen bite and it makes my insides quiver.
“That’s a good girl.”
Fuck oh fuck. Those four words send a rush of unexpected heat through me. If I’d been standing, my knees would’ve given in,
He seems genuinely pleased as he gives me a small wave before leaving and I… I think, maybe, I like that look on him.
Himari is sweeter when I’m not being a desperate captive hellbent on escaping the man she fondly refers to as Toyomitsu-sama. In fact, she’s half besotted with him and can’t stop harping on about this generosity.
I shop modestly despite my urge to financially cripple him in under thirty minutes. I also would not justify the reasons for adding my favourite shampoo and bodywash to the cart.
It’s for comfort and has absolutely nothing to do with him praising me for good behaviour.
I’m a goddamn feminist.
