“Pushy, aren’t you?”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Yes. So I’m warning you I’ll probably be a terrible submissive.”

Shiori grinned. “I have ways of dealing with that.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

“Show up at seven. The guy at the front desk will let you up.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

KNOX entered the lobby of Shiori’s apartment high-rise and headed to the security desk. “I’m Knox Lofgren to see Shiori Hirano. She’s expecting me.”

The armed security guard held out his hand. “Two forms of ID please.”

He opened his wallet and passed over his driver’s license and his military ID.

The guard scanned them both and passed them back. “Follow me.” At the bank of elevators, the guard swiped a keycard to get the doors to open. He stepped inside, used his keycard again, and inserted a small key next to the highest number on the panel. “That will take you up to the penthouse level. If you hit any other floor number, the elevator will stop and bring you back down to the main level.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

“Have a good evening, sir.” He stepped out, the doors closed, and the elevator started going up.

What was with the Black siblings and their need for such extreme measures with security? And their need to live on the top floor? Oh, right. Being Okada heirs gave them a dose of paranoia, thanks to their grandfather’s billions. Access to trust funds meant they didn’t have to compromise and live in a shitty fixer-upper. Ever.

But that wasn’t entirely fair. Ronin had lived modestly for many years. Knox doubted Shiori had lived modestly a day in her adult life.

For the hundredth time, he asked himself what he was doing. Did he really want to become a rich woman’s sexual plaything? Have her calling the shots? She said she wasn’t into humiliation, but what if her idea of humiliation and his were vastly different?

A voice of reason intervened. This is Shiori. You like her. You respect her. You promised her you’d try it one night. If it doesn’t work, you can go back to the way things were.

The elevator doors opened into an entryway. Off to the left was an elaborately carved wooden door. When he reached the door, he saw she’d taped a note:

Welcome, Knox—inside please strip down to your underwear. Wait for me in the living room. I’ve placed two candles in the large window, stand between them in military rest position, looking out at the city view.

No signature. Had that been intentional? She wasn’t Mistress B to him, and yet signing her name didn’t seem formal enough.

He closed his eyes and inhaled, then let out his breath on a slow exhale before he opened the door. Once inside her lair—not cool that was the first word that’d popped into his head—he took stock of the entryway. Not the gilded crown molding and marble he’d expected, but it still screamed money.

Quit gawking; start stripping.

Knox yanked the long-sleeved Henley over his head and folded it, putting it on the bench. Next he ditched his socks and shoes. Last he removed his jeans and folded those too. The habits he’d picked up from his years in the army were hard to shake.

Speaking of shaking. Jesus. He hadn’t been this nervous the first time he’d jumped out of an airplane.

The wood floors were warm beneath his bare feet as he left the foyer and entered the main living area. He allowed a quick glance at the large space with a minimal amount of furniture before his gaze zoomed in on the candles flickering in the window.

Wow. What a view. It was too dark to see the Rockies in the distance, but the lights of Denver spread out as far as the eye could see. He took another quick look off to his left. More windows. Another bunch of furniture in front of a fireplace.

Then Knox faced forward and got into position: feet apart, shoulders back, hands clasped behind him. Normally his head would be up, but he suspected she’d want him looking at the ground.

He tried to calm his mind using the Zen tactics Ronin had taught him, but the thoughts bouncing around in his brain refused to be contained.

What are you doing here, almost naked and waiting for a woman to toy with you? No wonder you call her She-Cat. She’s the predator and you’re the prey.

How long would she make him wait?

Focus on breathing.

That helped.

She approached him from the side, so he saw her in his peripheral vision. He didn’t look at her, but the instant her hand caressed his biceps, his heart started to race.

Shiori continued to touch him. From his wrist to the ball of his shoulder; then her fingertips trailed across his back. She detoured up the back of his neck, pushing her hand through his hair to the top of his scalp and then back down to sweep along the curve of his shoulder and caressing his other arm.