Page 28 of Secrets & Sake

“You don’t have to pay all the time.”

“It’s a matter of pride.”

“Wasting money on me?”

I hold his gaze. “Taking care of what’s mine.”

Hiro’s cheeks color. Scoffing affectionately, he squeezes my knee beneath the table. “Thanks. I’ll have to pay you back sometime.”

I smirk and lean in. “I can think of a few ways. Like with your mouth around my—”

Hiro kicks me beneath the table, and I chuckle.

We leave the restaurant together, and I drive us to the bathhouse. I turn the music up louder—Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody—and I allow myself to laugh as Hiro sings along. Looks like I’ve successfully made him a Queen fan. I drive us through Tokyo’s neon-streaked streets until we arrive at the bathhouse Namikawa owns. The scents of other wolves in my territory rankles me, and I have to fight back a growl so Hiro doesn’t hear.

We arrive in the changing room. I already see a few of my fellow Namikawa-kai brothers getting ready for the meeting, full-body tattoos on display as they change. I find my usual locker and start stripping down, hanging my clothes inside.

Fully naked, I grab my towel and turn around. Hiro hastily looks away, only half out of his clothes. I have no doubt he was checking out the black wolf tattoo on my back.

“I meant to tell you before, but your tattoos are amazing,” Hiro says softly, sweeping his gaze down the thematic works of art that cover my body from my shoulders to my ankles. “Did it hurt getting them done?”

I’d bitten down on a wooden block and screamed until I thought I’d pass out. “Namikawa insists we all get our tattoos done the old-fashioned way.”

“Why? Isn’t that supposed to be painful?”

“To prove we can endure pain. To prove our devotion.”

“That sounds horrible.” I don’t like the pity in his voice.

“I’ve had worse.” The pain at that time had been the worst pain I’d ever felt. But I’m twenty-eight now, and I’ve been shot, stabbed, bitten, you name it. Looking back, it doesn’t feel like much.

My skin prickles under the weight of his gaze. I turn toward him, and my breath catches. Hiro has wrapped himself in a towel, but I’ve got a great view of his thick thighs and legs. He’s got little freckles and moles dotting his shoulders. The tiles whisper over my bare feet as I prowl closer to him, unable to stay away. Hiro takes a step back and bumps into the lockers. His scent is thick in the air, sweet blossoms spiced with lust. My dick threatens to take an interest, twitching between my thighs. Hiro’s throat works hard when he swallows.

“You can touch them, if you want.”

Hiro’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. Eyes wide in wonder, he runs his hand up my arm. His touch makes my breath catch and raises the little hairs on my arms. I have to curl my fingers so I don’t do something stupid. He circles me, running his fingertips along my skin. I make sure to flex my ass, smirking when he coughs awkwardly behind me.

“I like this one. Why a wolf?”

I barely suppress a shiver as his fingers trace the shape of the wolf’s snarling snout. If he doesn’t stop touching me, I’ll be rock hard in a few seconds.

“Namikawa likes wolves. Ask him yourself.” It was chosen for me. Everyone in the gang has a wolf somewhere on their body to pay tribute to our wolf side, but I can’t tell him that.

His fingers twitch before they settle in the center of my chest, right over the kanji Namikawa carved into my skin when I was eight years old. “What is that? That’s not a tattoo.” He rubs the scar tissue, eyes widening in distress. His shyness disappears as he narrows his eyes. “Eternally bound wolf?” He reads the writing on my chest. “Who the hell did this to you?”

There’s a protective edge to his voice that stirs something within me. Nobody’s wanted to protect me before. As if he could. But still, knowing he feels that way toward me is… different.

“Namikawa.”

Hiro’s wide eyes find my gaze. “Why?”

Even if I could tell him, where do I begin? There’s no point. I brush off his hands and walk around him.

Hiro blinks fast and averts his gaze, eyes fixed determinedly on the wall. “You… you didn’t deserve that.”

I’ve never wanted to touch anyone the way I want to touch him. I want to run my tongue over his clavicle, suck on the warm skin beneath my fingers. Want to bury my nose behind his ear and breathe that cherry blossom aroma deep into my lungs like smoke.

I thought nicotine was my only vice, but if I’m not careful, I could see myself getting addicted to him. To his blushes. To the way he opens up like a flower when I poke and tease him. I’ve never wanted anyone’s hands on my skin more than I crave his touch. It’s like there’s a hook snagged in my chest, pulling me closer, even when my mind’s telling me to run far before I detonate in his face.

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