Page 25 of Kotori
"Exactly." His voice holds satisfaction.
"This is why you need instruction. Japanese dress has rules, proportions, specific ways of wearing that enhance beauty.
" His hands move to the ties at my shoulders, fingers working at the simple knots with precision.
"Trust me, kotori. Let me show you how these garments are meant to be worn. "
"Matsumoto-sama."
"Do you trust me?" The question stops me cold. His hands pause in their movement, waiting for my answer.
Do I trust him? This man who's systematically isolated me, replaced my clothes, invaded my privacy, made me dependent on his approval for the smallest things? This man who calls me "little bird" like I'm something he owns?
"I..." I start, then stop. Because the terrifying truth is that part of me does trust him. I trust that he won't hurt me, that he'll take care of me, that following his guidance leads to safety and approval and the kind of security I've never had. "Yes," I whisper, hating myself for the admission.
"Ii ko." The praise sends warmth flooding through me. "Then let me help you."
The ties come undone under his skilled fingers, and the silk juban begins to slide down my shoulders. I grab for it instinctively, trying to hold the fabric in place, but his hands cover mine with gentle firmness.
"Let go, Paige." My name on his lips sounds both like an order and a plea. "Let me see what belongs to me."
Belongs to him. The words make something deep in my core clench with want that terrifies me.
My hands fall away from the silk, and the juban slides down my body. I stand before him wearing nothing but plain cotton underwear, my bare breasts flushed and my breath coming in short gasps.
"Perfect," he breathes, and the raw hunger in his voice makes my nipples tighten in the cool air. "Absolutely perfect."
He circles around me again, but this time his attention feels different—predatory, possessive. When he stops in front of me, his dark eyes burn as they travel slowly down my exposed body before meeting mine with intensity that makes my knees weak.
"Now you understand," he says, his voice rougher than before. "Japanese dress is about revealing beauty, not hiding it. About enhancing what's naturally yours, not forcing you into someone else's vision."
His hand rises to cup my face, thumb tracing along my cheekbone before trailing down to trace the line of my throat. "You're learning to trust me with your body, your comfort, your needs. Soon you'll learn to trust me with everything else."
Everything else. The promise in his voice makes me want things I don't understand and shouldn't crave.
"Kaito," I whisper, not even realizing I've dropped the formal address until his eyes flash with something dark and dangerous.
His hand tightens on my neck, not painful but unmistakably corrective. "What did you call me?"
The sudden shift in his tone makes my stomach drop. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"Kaito-sama," he says quietly, each syllable deliberate. "You will address me properly, kotori. Always."
"Kaito-sama," I repeat, and the correction seems to satisfy something primal in him.
"Better." His grip loosens, becomes possessive rather than punishing. "Say it again."
"Kaito-sama," I breathe, and suddenly he's moving, backing me against the silk-covered wall with controlled power that makes my pulse race.
"Do you know what you do to me, kotori?" His body cages me against the wall, close enough that I can feel his heat but not quite touching. "Standing there, trusting me, saying my name like you are worthy enough to be on a first name basis with me?"
I can't breathe. Can't think. His proximity, his scent, the way he's looking at me like I'm something he wants to devour—it's overwhelming every rational thought I have left.
"I—" I start, but the words die when his thumb traces across my lower lip.
"You what?" His voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries absolute command. "Tell me what you want, Paige."
What I want. The question hangs between us like a challenge. What do I want? To run? To stay? To let him continue this beautiful destruction of everything I thought I knew about myself?
"I don't know," I admit, the words coming out broken.
"I think you do." His hand slides into my hair, fingers tangling in the blonde strands. "I think you've known since the moment you walked into my home."
Then his mouth is on mine, and the world explodes into fire.
This isn't just a kiss. His lips crush against mine with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs and the thoughts from my head. One hand fists in my hair, the other wraps around my waist, pulling me against him with bruising force that makes me gasp into his mouth.
He tastes like power and danger. When his tongue sweeps into my mouth, I make a sound I've never heard from myself before—half moan, half whimper—and he responds with a low growl that vibrates through his chest and into mine.
His teeth graze my lower lip, not quite a bite but a reminder that he could if he wanted to.
My hands are trapped between us, pressed against the hard plane of his chest where I can feel his heart thundering as violently as mine.
I should be pushing him away. Instead, my fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer, surrendering to the storm that is his kiss.
He walks me backward until I hit the wall, pinning me there with his body. One hand slides from my waist to my bare thigh, his touch leaving trails of fire on my skin. I'm dizzy with want, trembling with need I didn't know I was capable of feeling.
The sound seems to unleash something in him. His grip in my hair tightens, his other hand sliding up my bare thigh to my hip, fingers pressing into my flesh, pulling me against the rigid evidence of his desire.
My head falls back, exposing my throat, which he immediately claims with lips and teeth. The sensation of his mouth on my neck sends pleasure straight to my core.
"You're mine," he growls against my throat, the word vibrating against my pulse. "Say it."
"Yours," I gasp, too far gone to feel shame at how quickly I yield. "I'm yours, Kaito-sama."
When he finally breaks the kiss, we're both breathing hard.
His pupils are blown wide, dark with hunger that makes my entire body flush with answering heat.
He doesn't move away, keeping me pinned between his body and the wall, his hand still in my hair, tilting my head back so I have to look up at him.
"That's what you want," he says with absolute certainty, his voice rough and deep. "To stop fighting. To let me take care of you. To surrender everything and trust that I'll keep you safe." He steps back suddenly, leaving me pressed against the wall, barely clothed and undone.
The absence of his warmth makes me want to reach for him, to pull him back, to beg for more.
"Get dressed," he says, his voice controlled while I'm still falling apart. "Wear something suitable. The girls will be finishing their study period soon, and we'll be taking lunch in the garden."
Then he's gone, sliding the door closed behind him, leaving me standing naked and shaking.
I stare at the beautiful fabrics scattered around my feet—layers of artistry that he peeled away, like I was something he had every right to unwrap.
And the most terrifying part is that I let him.
I wanted him to.
Kotori. Little bird in a cage, learning to sing for her master's pleasure.
The door slides open again, and Hayashi enters with my clothes folded neatly in her arms. She surveys the scene of me standing nearly naked with the kimono on the floor. "This way, Williams-san," she says without missing a beat. "The girls will be finishing their studies in fifteen minutes."