Page 41 of Her Fearless Ronin

“Lord, have mercy on my soul,” I whispered under my breath. There was an undeniable sense of rightness. Like the missing piece of my life’s puzzle was standing right in front of me.

A wide smile spread across my face as I approached him. The way his eyes roamed over my chosen outfit, his gaze lingering on my chest, hips, and legs, created a warm sensation in my chest.

“Hey,” I greeted him, unable to hide the giddiness I felt as I bounced a little on my feet.

“Hey, yourself,” he replied, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

I couldn’t help but give him a playful once-over, appreciating the way his attire showcased his strong physique. “You clean up nicely,” I teased, stepping closer, resting my hand on the lapel of his jacket.

He chuckled, his eyes never leaving mine. “And you look absolutely breathtaking,” he replied, resting his hand on top of mine. The warmth of his callous fingers was a sweet reminder of his fingers between my legs.

My cheeks flushed at his compliment and my lurid thoughts. I bit my lip to suppress the grin threatening to take over my face. It felt so good to be desired, especially by a man who held such an aura of allure and danger.

I glanced around, half expecting to see his iconic black motorcycle parked nearby. “Where’s the bike?” I asked, my tone playfully disappointed.

Jiro’s grin widened, and he leaned casually against the car beside him. “I thought I’d be a gentleman for the evening.”

I raised an eyebrow, unable to hide my surprise. “A gentleman, huh? Who are you, and what have you done with Jiro?”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Just thought I’d switch things up a bit.”

As much as I appreciated the gesture, there was a part of me that was disappointed not to feel the rumble of his motorcycle beneath me, pressing my body against his. But then again, the idea of spending the evening with him in a more conventional manner was also appealing.

He pushed away from the black Porsche and opened the passenger door for me. As I slid into the car, his hand brushed mine, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. I met his gaze, and there was an intensity in his eyes that made my heart race.

As he closed the car door and walked around to the driver’s side, I couldn’t help but think,He’s lethal, and he’s mine…at least for now.

“You know, as much as I appreciate the gentlemanly act, I don’t want a gentleman. I want Jiro… My Jiro,” I said, my voice carrying a note of playfulness and desire.

I hoped he remembered the raw intimacy we had shared in the shower, the way he had branded himself as mine. It was a possessive claim that had lit fire to something deepwithin me, and I wanted to remind him of that connection.

As he slid into the driver’s seat and our gazes locked, his eyes darkened, a spark of intensity setting off between us. Without a word, he reached out, and his hand found the back of my head, his fingers tangling gently in my hair. His touch sent shivers down my spine, and I could feel the air crackling with tension.

“Be careful what you wish for,” he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper.

Before I could respond, his lips crashed onto mine with a fierce hunger that left me breathless. The kiss was passionate, fiery, and filled with all the alpha dominance that made my heart race and my knees weak. It was as if he was claiming me all over again, reminding me of his possession, his desire, and his unspoken promise.

I melted into the kiss, my fingers instinctively gripping his shirt as I pulled him closer. Time seemed to stand still as we lost ourselves in the moment, our lips and bodies pressed together, further stoking the fire that had been smoldering beneath the surface.

When he finally pulled away, our breaths mingling, I looked into his eyes, my own filled with desire, adoration, and a touch of playful challenge.

“Maybe I should be careful whatIwish for,” I teased, a mischievous smile playing on my lips.

He chuckled, his fingers gently tracing my jawline. “You have no idea.”

I knew that this evening with Jiro was going to be an unforgettable ride, filled with both passion and the unpredictable allure of my yakuza.

As the car came to a halt in front of Chez Jean, one of the most upscale restaurants in town with a notorious six-month waiting list, I was left in awe. How on earth did Jiro manage to secure a reservation here? The place was practically a legend in culinary circles.

“How did you do that?” I couldn’t help but ask, the surprise evident in my voice as he opened his door.

He winked at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’m a man of many secrets.”

He rounded the car and engaged with the doorman, smoothly asking him to step aside. Then he was at my door, opening it with a flourish and extending his hand.

“May I?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness as I accepted his hand. “You deserve the best, Hope Myers,” he remarked, his fingers intertwining with mine, his touch both comforting and electrifying. Bringing my hand to his lips, he pressed a gentle kiss onto my knuckles, sending a shiver down my spine.

As soon as we walked in, the opulence of the restaurant took me by surprise, from the sparkling chandeliers to the plush furnishings that seemed to whisper luxury. The soft murmur of hushed conversations created an intimate ambience, and all the patrons dressed in designer clothing made me feel self-conscious. I looked down at my lilac Converses and winced.

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