Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Baby Jesus was a Baby Alive. I still haven’t the slightest idea why she fell off the stage trying to save him. In retrospect, it might have been she was going senile. Or the cataracts. Anyway, I was five, and my dad said acting in the Christmas play would cure my shyness. That was a lie. Ugh, focus, Ryann!
“I'm sorry, Umito. If Ryoichi murdered his stepfather, I can't trust him or you by association. So . . .”
Bam! The decor cracks over Umito's head, bits of glass crashing around him. I skitter around on the soles of my tennis shoes and make a mad dive for the door.
I open it swiftly and can't tell if my bones are attempting to flee my body as fast as I'm moving. Damn, if my middle school PE teacher could see me now! I pause at the elevators at the end of the hall. The blood in my veins pops like Bang Snaps. My body is literally rattling. You're calling attention to yourself, Ry.
Soft chuckling beckons my attention, and I glance over my shoulder. A white-haired couple—laughing, good, ol' retired laughter—strolls in my direction. A few suite doors past them is . . .
Ryoichi.
Should I involve the man who could easily be someone's great-grandpappy? They've lived a long, fruitful life. Opposing thoughts shift through my psyche as I climb onto the elevator and press the close button.
That settles it. I'll tell one of the workers in the lobby.
The old bitty cuts her eyes at me as her husband jams his hand between the sliding panels at the last possible second. She mutters, “You could've held the door.”
Lady, I'm tryna save your life.
I shift over, giving them a wide birth, again pressing the close button. A war ensues when Mrs. Thang stuffs her finger into the open button on the panel at her side of the elevator.
Ryoichi saunters into the lift, offering me a smug smile while addressing the oblivious couple. “It's refreshing to cross paths with a lovely couple such as yourself. Not in a rush. Not taking any day for granted.”
“No, son, we relish every moment we’re alive,” the husband says.
Seconds later, I'm imprisoned in the elevator as the doors swoosh closed. And even more, I'm held captive by an intense gaze. Heat radiates from Ryoichi's hard body. He hasn't replaced the blazer. My eyes fall over his tailored button-up. I drink in every bulge in his arms. I stare at the pure muscle of his chest and abdomen and how he's smoothed the shirt back into his pants.
Pulse skittering in my throat, I whisper, “You won't hurt them?”
He leans close enough to conceal his hand creeping up to cup my breast. “No.”
“You won't hurt me?”
“Never.”
“Never say never.”
Ryoichi's hand peruses the slope of my breast, then a thumb brushes over my agonized nub. His fingers trail the silk of my collarbone to cradle my neck. “You have my word, Ryann. You may take my life if I betray your faith. I will never hurt you.”
I'm reluctant to speak, but the last question burns straight through me. I gasp. “And-and you'll let me go? Soon?”
“Never.”
“So, not soon. Never let me go? Or . . . I’m sorry. I have this habit of asking too many questions at once.” I chew my lip. “You mean, not soon, right?”
Ambitious eyes scrape over me. “Not. Ever.”
The sound of the drumline in my chest fades as the elevator doors swing open, but I still feel it. My heart beats wildly, damn near out of my chest. The lobby’s abuzz with nightlife. I'm conscious of my every move as I slip out of the elevator behind the retired couple. Mrs. Thang has changed her tune. Perceptive heifa assumes I hadn't held the elevator because I was playing a game with my man.
A sexy, fun game.
One like they'd probably played on some vacay in '86. I wish, lady.
Although the boutique hotel is all wide-open spaces with the ocean breeze sweeping in through from the east, my temperature has risen to a dangerous level. With a carefree smile on his lips, Ryoichi wraps me into his arms. The side of my face is planted against his chest as he captures me in a warm embrace. The steady boom of his heart taunts me to slide a dagger straight through it. If this were a book, I’d have a friggen dagger. No, fake Tatsun’s ass wouldn’t have died. He would’ve saved . . . me. Would save me from an actual murderer. Because I only like my men dark and mysterious in fictional scenarios. Not real life!
Ryoichi's knuckles stroke over the curve of the opposite side of my face. He places a reverent kiss on the crown of my head.
My entire body breaks out in delightful goosebumps, and a shiver runs through me. I say, “Stop that,” with a look.