Chapter 6

The air in the private dining room of *Kura* was thick, not just with the scent of charred oak and delicate soy reduction, but with a heavy, electric tension that had nothing to do with the conversation. We had moved from the low, plush velvet couch near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline to the plush rug in the center of the room. The chef had been discreetly ushered out by the host, leaving us alone with the dim amber lighting and the scattered remnants of our twelve-course omakase feast. Slices of torched uni, the empty plates, the sake carafe—it was all just backdrop now. The real feast was about to begin. I was still wearing the slip dress he’d helped me into earlier, the silk cool against my skin, hugging my curves in all the right places. He sat before me, one knee raised, his suit jacket discarded, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the strong forearms that had guided me through the meal. His eyes, dark and predatory, raked over my body, lingering on my hips, then lower, right between my legs. I could feel his gaze physically, a heat pressing against my