Page 157 of The Dragon 2
I smirked.
The way she pivoted with such control made my cock throb even harder.
“Wow.” She cleared her throat again, reached for the last heart-shaped tray, and brought it to us. “This is a mini black-eyed pea cake with bourbon glaze."
I looked at it, and although insanely horny I was excited to try more of her food. “And tell me why you decided to cook me this.”
"My grandma said these brought good luck on New Year’s. However. . .I’m hoping they also bring good luck with this date."
I tried it. Warm. Earthy. Sweet. Rich. Complex. The bourbon slid across my tongue and burned down my throat in the most perfect way. "Tora. . .what are you doing to me?"
"Feeding you."
"No. You’re claiming me. . .with stories. With flavor." I looked at the tray.
Then at her.
Then back at the tray.
The last bite still warmed my tongue, the ghost of bourbon and black-eyed peas lingering. The air smelled of spice and sweetness, of heat, honey, and history told in the language of cast iron and copper. But it was more than that.
Each flavor had been a key.
Each course, a door that I had unassumingly walked through.
While she was letting me taste her childhood, she had also served me her softness, her sweetness, her fire.
And that was when it hit me—the band, the scents, the taste of the food, the texture of it and even her all so visually captivating too.
This is not a meal. It is a seduction.
I blinked.
But she’s not seducing my cock. . .she’s going after my soul.
She watched me with this knowing smile.
Here I was talking dirty to her, licking her fingers and unable to keep my mouth off her skin, while she was giving me a slow, sensory ambush—one I’d never seen coming.
I thought I had seized control, but. . .Nyomi was disarming me with warmth, food, and feminine power.
And. . .I was enjoying it.
Interesting.
There was danger here—no blade in sight, no gun at my back—but the kind of danger that crawled beneath the skin.
Emotional exposure.
Trust.
The terrifying ache of wanting to belong to someone who could break me open with a sweet smile.
Have I been the prey since the meal began? Or did it start when I walked over the threshold?
It didn’t matter what the answer was to those questions because I had no one to protect me from this, not my Roar, Fangs, Claws, nor Eyes.
Goddamn it. No wonder Hiroko stopped clearing her throat. She knew I was trapped.
