Chapter 7

He moved easily through the traffic and we ended up in downtown Los Angeles, all the lights, sounds, and the diversity of the people making my mouth drop. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as though I didn’t know what it was like to be in a busy metropolis. I hung out in Shibuya, Shinjuku and Akiba more times than I could count. But there was something about being in Los Angeles—seeing the road sign saying Sunset Boulevard, gawking at the circular Capitol Records building, espying the Hollywood sign way up in the hills—that made me feel somewhat starstruck. 

“Weird, yeah?” he asked, one hand on the steering wheel, the other drumming a slow beat against his thigh. “You’ve been staring out the window with your mouth open for the past ten minutes.”

“It’s unbelievable,” I murmured. “I’ve only seen these places in movies and TV shows. To think I would see this in real life…I never expected to come to LA.”

“And yet here you are, a country bumpkin in the city,” he said and then laughed at the expression on my face. “Don’t worry. You’re no country bumpkin. I’m just messing with you.”

I slid him a sideways glance. “Mr. Miyano likes to do that.”

He raised a brow in a sardonic manner. “Messing with people? Get out of here.”

I remembered Nobuki’s words a few weeks ago. 

Because I’m twisted, that’s why. 

I gawked at a trio of women wearing low-cut, tight dresses under sequined leather jackets, smoking cigarettes at a street corner. “He said he was twisted.”

Julian clicked his tongue. “Well, he’s no liar. Anyway, let’s not talk about that upright, moral son of a bitch anymore. We’re here.”

Here turned out to be a large one-story building called La Ravel. A long line stretched from the two closed double doors with a podium set up in front. Two men, wearing shirts emblazoned with the word SECURITY on their chests, stood guard. 

He braked to a stop at the curb and a man opened my door, looking very similar to the men at the front of the line but fifty pounds lighter and with the word VALET on his shirt. 

I stepped out and almost got my hand caught in the door as we both tried to close it at the same time. 

Julian exchanged his keys for a small slip of paper and he escorted me to the line, his hand hovering over the small of my back. 

“Where are we?” I asked.

At the front of the line, the sounds of music were obvious and answered my question for me, but Julian was nice enough to assuage my curiosity. 

“An old haunt of mine,” he said and then exchanged high-fives with the security guards, greeting them exuberantly by name. 

Meanwhile, I hovered outside the line, aware of the glances we were getting, some of them not friendly. I didn’t blame them; it looked as though they had been waiting for a while, and if I thought someone was going to cut me in line I would have come down on them as harshly as I could.

“Hey, man, think you can get me and my friend in?” asked Julian brazenly.

The stares turned hostile. 

“Sure, man,” said the one he addressed as Kevin, who clapped Julian on the back with a loud thwack that made me wince. A blow like that would’ve laid me flat on my face, but Julian didn’t budge an inch. 

Except to turn back, a hand outstretched to me.

He raised a brow. “Shall we?”

I hesitantly put my hand in his. The moment my fingers brushed his wide palm, a jolt of electricity went through my body, infusing my entire being in heat that felt even hotter than my flaming red face at all this attention. 

He exchanged farewells and pulled me close. “Let's go.”

I was somewhat hesitant to be pressed against his firm body. I mean, I hit a guy in the face with a frying pan for putting his hand on my butt. 

But I realized it had less to do with his idea of a fun time than keeping me safe when the doors opened. We walked into a swell of people, the sounds of a trance song so loud I could hear the bass practically through my teeth. 

“Hang on.” He pushed a path through for us, moving me behind him so I rode in his wake like a small fish following a shark. 

His hand was warm in mine and I followed him out through the crowd to the other end. A long bar counter was lit up by bright bulbs that made me grimace as my eyes tried to adjust from the crazy swirling lights that turned my world shades of blue, then red, then green, all in the space of seconds. 

Here, away from the crowd, it wasn’t so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. I watched the DJ on the opposite side of the room, a tall man with earphones almost as big as his head, wave a hand in the air while everyone danced at his feet, like a king entertaining his subjects. 

Or was it the other way around? 

Julian stood next to me, his shoulders brushing mine in a strangely intimate way.

“What do you want to drink?”

“Um.” I got an eyeful of all the colorful bottles on the wall in front of us. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Yeah?” he asked, one brow raised, a positively diabolical smile on his lush lips. “Can you drink?”

Not that it was anything to brag about, but I still felt a small rush of pride when I told him about all those shots of shochu I took with my father during the holidays. Normally I wasn’t a drinker, but my dad loved alcohol and my mom didn’t, so when the holidays came, guess who was left holding the proverbial bottle? 

“Damn. Shochu? That stuff will put down a whale.” He whistled. “It’s rare. Most Asian women couldn’t hold their liquor if you gave them a bucket to put it in. How do you drink it?”

“I like it with ice,” I said. 

His smile widened. “Ice in shochu? That’s classy.”

“Thanks.” I laughed. “What do you want to throw at me?”

“Is that a challenge?”

And even though I was dressed conservatively, the way Julian looked at me made me just as desirable, just as beautiful as those hot, sweaty women with their slender bodies and skimpy clothing that I couldn’t imagine wearing out in public. 

The bartenders all moved with steady, practiced purpose, mixing drinks and popping beer bottle tops like they were born to it. Julian waved one of them down and then glanced at me. 

“You ever tried tequila?”

“Heard about it, but never had it.” 

The bartender poured two shot glasses of a golden liquid and passed over a tray with wedges of lemons and limes, along with a shaker of salt. 

He looked at the half-full shot glasses with a practiced eye and then looked at me. “You know how to drink this?”

“I’ve seen it in movies,” I said hesitantly. Why couldn’t I just confidently say yes and then lick my wrist before shaking salt all over it? 

At least, that’s how I thought you took tequila. My memory was a little sketchy on the details. 

“Watch.” 

He raised his hand to his mouth and I watched, transfixed as he licked the space between his index finger and his thumb, his tongue brilliantly red in the bright lights. 

I couldn’t look away, not for all the money in the world. 

And while he was doing it, he didn’t look away from me. 

My mouth went dry and I couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to have that tongue on me.  

He shook out the salt over the moist part of his hand, a thin layer of white coating that part of his skin. 

Suddenly I wanted to grab his hand and bring it to my mouth. I wanted to lick that same spot, to taste that salty flavor against the tang of his skin. I bit my lower lip as he put down the shaker, his eyes still on me, a strange half smile on his face. 

“Your eyes are the size of dinner plates,” he said.

I licked my lips and imitated him, although, unlike him, I kept my gaze down. If I’d kept my eyes on him while I licked my hand he might’ve gotten the wrong idea and thought I was coming onto him or something. 

The problem was I didn’t think it was such a bad idea after all. 

I almost knocked over the salt shaker when I deposited it back on the counter, hands trembling as though I was already deep in my cups. Julian handed me the small shot glass, only letting go when we were both sure I wasn’t going to drop the darn thing on my sneakers. 

He raised his shot glass up in a small salute before throwing the thing down and I followed suit, almost spitting the entire contents back out as the fiery liquid burned a trail down my throat and into my belly. 

We both grabbed a wedge of lime and bit down, the tart juice bursting all over my tongue. 

Wow. 

He put his lime wedge down. I looked at him, with mine still in my mouth. 

His lips kicked up. “Pretty good, yeah?”

I nodded, the flavor of the salt, tequila, and the lime creating a sensation on my tongue, in my stomach, and in my head that I was ready to experience again. 

“Want another?”

I couldn’t nod fast enough and he let out a soft, very sexy-sounding, very bedroom-flavored laugh. He ordered us each another shot glass full of the alcohol that shimmered like melted gold in the dancing strobe lights. 

We did it again. 

And again. 

By the fourth time, I was laughing, giddy, and glad I had chosen to wear sneakers, because if I had opted for heels I would’ve lost my balance by then. 

And by the fifth time, I never took my eyes off Julian as I licked a slow line between my fingers before applying the salt. 

When I put down my fifth lime wedge, he grabbed me by the hand. 

“Come on.”

The music was something low, the vocals high, almost haunting. I followed him into the mass of dancing figures, all of them with their hands held high over their heads, paying homage to the DJ who was bobbing his head to the beat, his eyes invisible behind a pair of dark shades. 

Julian turned in the middle of that worshiping mass and faced me. 

I was glad I wasn’t short. I wanted to be close enough to see him, to see the raw emotions flitting across his handsome face, to be with him, pressed against every inch of him, feeling his muscles move smoothly under my touch as he moved my fingers up to his shoulders. 

His hands settled, hard and warm, on my waist and stayed there, putting me squarely against him. I didn’t need the five shots of tequila to tell me I was having an amazing time. I wanted to do this. All the tequila did was take away my inhibitions that might’ve stopped me from fully enjoying myself, and, God, how I wanted to be held by someone like Julian. 

“You know how to dance?” he asked, his voice next to my ear. 

I shivered and leaned in even closer to him. “All we have to do is sway in place?”

He laughed and something clenched in the pit of my stomach. “You see that in your movies, too?”

“Hey, it’s the only reason I was able to communicate with the people here,” I said. 

“Even though we’ve been talking in Japanese this whole time.”

Someone jostled me in the back and Julian widened his stance, bracing himself for the impact. 

I almost forgot to breathe as his hips pressed into mine. “You know, when I got off the plane, I never imagined meeting someone like you.”

I could almost hear the smile in his voice. “So? What do you think?”

“About?”

“Me.”

Taking a chance, the alcohol turning my blood into fire, I ran my hands over his shoulders and wrapped them around his neck, bringing us that much closer. 

Nothing separated us but our clothes, and in the heat of the club, the humidity was start to make everything…damp. 

At least that’s what I kept on telling myself. “I think…mmm, you are unlike any guy I’ve ever met.”

He pulled back just enough for me to see the confident, debonair smile on his face, his teeth startling white in the lights. “Yeah? So what kind of guys have you been dating?”

“Staid. Proper. Kind of awkward.” I bit my lower lip but the alcohol was turning me honest. “I hit my last date with a frying pan.”

He threw his head back, laughing hard, exposing the corded length of his neck. 

I wondered what it would be like to put my mouth over that pulse just under his ear and lick a long line from his ear, all the way down, down, down. 

Or maybe that was just the alcohol talking. 

Maybe. 

“Seriously? You hit your date with a frying pan?” 

God, I loved his laughter. My own lips twitched in response, even though the memory was one of the most embarrassing moments in my life. 

“What did the bastard try to do?”

My face flushed, although that had nothing to do with downing five shots of tequila. “He touched me inappropriately.”

His eyes widened dramatically, but I could see he was exaggerating. “Where would that inappropriate place be?”

I bit my lip again and worried it between my teeth, too shy to talk about my butt to someone who was almost a stranger. 

Then again, I was pressed so close to him that I felt…a lot of interesting things that would’ve otherwise turned me into a gibbering mess.

I pressed my face into the warm hollow of his neck, more to escape his knowing, teasing gaze. He smelled like something spicy and vanilla and I felt his hands tighten around my hips in response to my deep inhalation. 

“You smell wonderful.”

“I think you’re avoiding the question,” he said. “Where did this poor bastard touch you that you thought was so wildly inappropriate that you had to hit him with a frying pan?”

A helpless giggle left my lips, more because I was embarrassed than anything else. “He put his hand on my butt.”

Julian tsked. “Really? That jerk. Who did he think he was?” 

I just kept giggling, my face still buried in the hollow of his neck, luxuriating in that warm, spicy yet sweet scent. “I don’t even think he did it on purpose. We were cooking in my kitchen and then his hand just kind of brushed my hips. I turned around and smacked him in the head with the skillet.”

“Wow,” he said. “Some poor guy accidentally touches your hips and you bust his head open?”

“I got nervous. My back was to him and, for some reason, the thought he was some kind of pervert rapist went through my mind. In the end, he was the one who called the cops on me.”

He laughed. “So what about now?”

I lifted my face to meet his honest, piercing sapphire blue gaze. “What about now?”

“Well, I mean…” He nodded and pointedly looked down where we were pressed against each other, swaying to the beat that ran through my body with every pulse of the bass. “This is kind of more serious than slightly brushing your butt, isn’t it?”

I felt giddy, heat running through my body, turning my blood into lava, and I leaned against him. “Maybe he should’ve gotten me drunk before everything.”

Julian stiffened and then pulled my hands off his neck. 

I was bereft. Had I said the wrong thing?

He led me off the dance floor, both of us getting jostled every which way. I almost lost my balance as a particularly rowdy dancer sent me barreling into a woman who was almost a foot shorter than I was. 

Leaving behind a sea of outrage and expletives, we ended up near the employee entrance and the bathrooms. 

The lights were better there and he pulled me right under one, his eyes narrow. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my tongue curiously thick. 

He put his hands on my face and peered intently in my eyes. 

My mouth and throat was so dry I could’ve used a drink. No alcohol, though. The tequila was doing weird things to me. 

He pulled away, hands falling to his sides, and let out a breath. 

“Julian?” I started shaking, although I didn’t know why. “Is something wrong?”

He inclined his head to one side. His hair gleamed like golden strands of silk underneath the spinning lights. “Sorry. You kind of freaked me out when you said you were drunk.”

I blinked and put my fingers on my wrist, feeling my pulse sure and steady against my fingertips. “Um, I never said I was drunk.”

“You said you might’ve overlooked his actions if he got you drunk. Like it was the same thing happening with us out there.”

Oh crap. 

I put a hand over my mouth, but the words had already left my lips a long time ago. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Julian.”

He rubbed his chin in a thoughtful manner. “I’m just afraid you’re going to make me out to be the villain in the morning.” 

The drinks must’ve done something to my thinking capacity because I couldn’t quite understand him. “Sorry, call foul?”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I don’t want to take advantage of you while you’re drunk. I mean, that’s just fucking wrong. Like I’m getting my rocks off while some drunk girl rubs herself all over me? That’s not me, Rika.”

I pressed my fingers together, growing more mortified as the seconds rolled past. “I’m a little tipsy, but I’m certainly not drunk. Trust me. I’ve been drinking hard alcohol with my dad since I was fifteen. I know how to drink and I know when to stop.”

His brows furrowed as he considered me. “Well, see, that’s the thing. I don’t think you’re drunk. You don’t look drunk. You’re not wobbling all over the place, your pupils aren’t dilated, and you’re not laughing to yourself like a crazy person.” 

I reached out and touched his arm. The muscles jumped under my fingertips and I snatched my hand away. “Julian, you are such a gentleman.” My smile wobbled like mad because I didn’t know if I wanted to cry or laugh. Cry because I wasn’t back on that dance floor, using drunkenness as an excuse to cling to a god like Julian. Or laugh because here was this guy who radiated sensuality but could still pull off chivalry with the best of them. “I promise. I’m not drunk. I’m sorry. I guess I kind of took advantage of you.”

His brows went up. “You? Take advantage of me?”

My laugh was nervous as I ran a hand through my tousled hair, made all the worse for our passage through the wildly dancing crowd. “I did. I told myself that I was going to let you do whatever you wanted to me because I could’ve just used the tequila as an excuse.” 

The golden brows went up even higher. “Really? Anything?”

“But then I would have blamed it on the alcohol, because how can I admit tomorrow that I did those things with you?” 

My words tumbled over each other because I wasn’t sure what I was trying to say. Was I apologizing? What the hell was I doing? “I mean, I’m not exactly sheltered, Julian, but I’m not this sophisticated person I keep trying to pretend I am. I mean, I’m a nerd. I got into Shokogan Publishing just because I loved to read.”

He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. “You would’ve let me do anything? And then blamed it on the alcohol the next day? That’s messed up.”

I sensed the reproach in his voice and tried to amend my statement. “I’m sorry. Looking back, that was stupid and ill-advised of me.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “That’s how things work in Japan, isn’t it?”

I stared at him, not believing I had heard what I thought I heard. “I’m sorry?”

“The women and maybe even the men there, your whole nation, is sexually suppressed. You think sex is bad. You think promiscuity is something to point fingers at and whisper behind your hands. Right?”

All I could do was blink at him. “I don’t…”

“I was there, wasn’t I?” he said. “I was there for two years and went out with just about every girl who would have me. I know what Japanese girls are like. You all giggle and try to act all aloof and shit, but when it comes down to it, you girls like it, hell, love it when you get fucked. But the next morning arrives and then you’re all tears, acting like I stole your damn virginity.”

He leaned toward me and I struggled not to take a step back. “I don’t—”

“I don’t even blame you,” he said. “I can’t. It’s your society that’s made you into this sexually repressed being. You can’t even just fuck for the sake of fucking because you think people are going to ostracize you. Most of the girls I dated back in college were either with me because I was a foreigner, some kind of trophy to show on their arms while they paraded me around their girlfriends, or they used me for my English…” He paused and then sighed. “Look. Sorry I even got started. I guess—”

“No.” My hands clenched into fists, the corners of my eyes prickling. I was angry, no, pissed. But not at Julian. “No. Please. You’re right. I love my country but in a lot of ways we are still incredibly backward compared to America and people like you. We never fully accept people from other countries. I mean, we’re polite, because that’s how we are, but when it comes down to it, other people from other countries, they’ll never be considered one of ‘us’ and that’s a problem. I know it and I admit it.” My voice hitched. “And I know that…yes, sex is kind of taboo. I mean, you get the women who don’t care what other people think and just do what they want.”

Suddenly, I thought about Haru the Fox from the office and felt another wave of shame almost overwhelm me. “I’m sorry I’m not one of those women. I wish I could be free. I wish I could just have fun. My boss told me that it was my choice to do whatever I wanted outside working hours. I wish I could take you back to my hotel room and just not give a shit. I wish I could wake up in the morning, smile, and act like nothing happened. But I can’t. That’s not me. And I accept that, and I’ll try to change. I’ll try to be a more open person.”

Julian grimaced and put up a hand as though he meant to comfort me. “Rika, I—”

I pushed his hand away. “No. Don’t. Don’t you dare try to say sorry or console me. You’re right. It was underhanded of me to use you and then blame it on alcohol because I was too embarrassed to admit that, yes, sex is good and there’s nothing wrong with enjoying it. But I was raised in a society where no one talks about it and the people who do enjoy it are seen as freaks and perverts, not healthy, normal people, even though it should be the other way around.”

He was quiet and then cocked his head to one side. “So? What happens now?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to smile. I failed miserably, I thought. “Well, I just poured everything out to you. In truth, I’m just a neurotic bookworm who thinks you are incredibly attractive and I don’t even know what to do with myself when you’re around me.” I laughed. The sound was strident, harsh to even my own ears. “Rika Hasegawa in a nutshell.”

He nodded and pushed away from the wall. “I have to admit, when I dragged you here, this conversation was not what I thought was going to happen.”

“Yeah? What did you think was going to happen?”

His lips twitched. “I thought I was going to have to hold the hair out of your face while you puked up half a bowl of Caesar salad into a toilet.”

I scoffed. “I haven’t had a hangover since I left college.”

“You wanna give it a shot?”

I made a face. “Better not. I’ve got an early start tomorrow morning. Mr. Miyano would eat me for breakfast if I showed up hung over to our booth.”

His grin was sizzling hot and I fought back a sigh. “So, since you mentioned that you think I am, as per your words, incredibly attractive, how about I eat you for breakfast?”

Bright, lurid images of his golden head between my thighs ran through my mind. “Um, that is incredibly tempting, but—”

He waved a finger at me. “What did I say about being sexually restrained? If it’s something you want, but you’re not doing it because society tells you it’s wrong, then there’s something wrong with you. Now, if you don’t do it because you don’t want to do it, that’s a different matter. But if you’re pushing aside sex because you’re afraid of what people are going to say…well, fuck ’em, I say.”

I clenched my jaw and tried to calm the rapid beating of the pulse in my head as I thought about all the things he could do to me, to my body. “You are incredibly persuasive.”

He leaned in close, just as close as we were on the dance floor, and by instinct, I put up a hand against his chest. Not because I didn’t want him to touch me, but because years of habit had forced me to act like what society thought a proper unmarried woman should act like. 

He looked down at that hand and then looked at me, his brow raised. “You don’t want this?”

I let out a slow breath. “You’re going to kill me, you know that?”

His brow remained up. “So?”

“I’m not going to say this hasn’t been fun.” I sighed. “But tomorrow is an early start. Honestly, even though I’m used to drinking, throwing down those shots wasn’t the smartest thing I could’ve done.”

He nodded and moved away. I told myself I didn’t miss his body heat against my always cold skin, but then I’d be a liar. 

And for now, just for now, I wanted to be honest. 

“I understand.” He ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. “Shall we call it a night, then?”

Reluctantly, I agreed and followed him out, making sure to skirt around the edge of the dance floor so I didn’t get sucked back in and end up with shoe prints on my backside. 

There was no longer any line to get in and I let Julian exchange goodbyes while the valet pulled the black SUV to the curb. 

Julian opened the door for me, something I found refreshing. “Thank you.”

His eyes fair twinkled. “See? Look what a proper gentleman I am.”

“How you and Mr. Miyano ever became friends I’ll never know,” I said. 

He laughed. “I ask myself that all the time.”

The drive back was strangely, oddly…comfortable. It should have been awkward. After all, Julian had pretty much accused me of being a tease and told me I was a hypocrite. I should’ve been fuming, all but ready to throw everything including the kitchen sink at his good-looking face. 

But I wasn’t, because he hadn’t been wrong. It had been a hard pill to take, to admit I was one hell of a sexually stunted individual, but I couldn’t keep lying to him or me. I owed him more than that. 

We didn’t say anything, and I dozed in my seat, the lights of the other cars lulling me to sleep. He had turned on the radio, some kind of talk show, the DJs talking inhumanly fast. 

When we arrived back at the hotel, Julian had to shake my shoulder. I blinked up at him blearily, my mouth uncomfortably dry, as though I had fallen asleep with candy in my mouth. 

“Come on, let’s get you to your room,” he said, even undoing my belt for me.

I was too sleepy to care. 

“No, it’s fine.” I stifled a yawn that threatened to split my lips. “Please, you don’t have to go through all the effort. I can make it to my room. You’ve already done so much for me.”

He gazed at me from the driver’s side and the look on his face almost took my breath away. 

It had been such a long time since I had someone look at me like that, like I was the only thing that mattered, that I was the beginning and the end to that person’s purpose in life. 

“What if I said I wanted to?” His low voice sent all my nerve endings thrumming. “What if I want to be with you, even if it’s just for another five minutes?”

I hated being a bother, but if he put it like that… “Well, I suppose you could come in for some coffee.” I shot him a sideways glance. “And this time, when I say coffee, I mean coffee. If anything happens, I will not be in any condition to work tomorrow morning and Mr. Miyano will fire me.”

He grinned at me. “Deal.”

It was quite late by the time we made it to the elevators, almost one in the morning. I was not looking forward to getting up in five hours, less than five hours if I decided to take a shower rather than plowing headfirst into bed. 

We rode the elevators up in silence standing next to each other, no contact, each of us looking everywhere else but ourselves. 

The elevators opened and this time he followed me as I walked to the end of the hallway.

Quietly, I riffled through my handbag and slipped in my key card, taking care not to make any unnecessary noise. I didn’t know if Nobuki was back or if he was sleeping, but it seemed important he not catch me out here at one in the morning with his friend. 

I put a finger to my lips as the door beeped twice and then opened. “Shh. I don’t want to wake up Mr. Miyano.”

He smiled and shook his head. “On second thought, I’ll take a rain check on that coffee. Maybe next time.”

“Oh,” I said, nonplussed. 

What was I supposed to do? Just walk in and close to door behind him? Shake his hand? Thank him for an interesting evening? 

“Tha—thank you,” I said hesitantly, because there was never a situation where thanks wouldn’t make things better. “Um, if it wasn’t for you, I would’ve had a pretty miserable night.”

“Yeah, that bastard has a tendency for ruining everyone’s fun,” he replied. “But you know what? When the shit hits the fan, there’s no one I would trust more than that stuck-up prig. For all his distant, haughty behavior, he does care about the people in his circle.”

I believed it. After all, didn’t he get me the medicine last week when I told him I was ill? “I know.”

“Night.” He turned to leave. 

“Wait, Julian.”

I touched his arm and when he turned, a look of surprise on his face, I took a chance and pressed my lips against his. 

He was rigid, his lips still and unmoving against mine, and disappointment filled my every pore. An apology sprang out of my mouth as I moved back. 

But then his arms came around my waist, anchoring me to his rock-hard body, and then he was kissing me back. 

He tasted like tequila and lime and I loved it. His tongue swept along my lower lip, eliciting me to open my mouth and I tasted him just that much deeper. 

God, how long had it been since I felt this way? Since a guy was able to reduce me to a shivering, trembling mass of nerves just with the touch of his lips?

My hands went up and tangled with the hair at the nape of his neck as I drank deep of his tangy, sweet flavor, not willing to stop for anything in the world. 

“Wait,” he whispered, his lips still touching mine. “Just wait a minute.”

I was breathing hard like I had just run a marathon, my heart pounding a million times a second. “Why?”

He swallowed. “We shouldn’t.”

I went cold.

Crap. Had I done the wrong thing?

No. I couldn’t have. He had reacted to my kiss. He kissed me back.

His lips looked swollen and he took a step back, running his fingers over his mouth. “You see that in your movies, too?”

I flushed under his frank gaze. “Maybe. But that’s not why I did it.”

“Why did you?”

I licked my lips and tasted him all over again. “I wanted to thank you. And I want you to know that I appreciate you.”

He laughed. “That’s one hell of a thank you.”

“Apparently not that good of one,” I said. “I mean, you did pull away.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Shit, Rika. If you only knew.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I left my car in the unloading zone. I’d better go before they call a tow truck.”

I nodded numbly. “O—okay.”

“But before I do.” He pressed a short, almost savage kiss to my temple. “There’s more from where that came from. I promise.”

He turned and walked down the hall, leaving me dumbfounded.

My hands curled into fists. I resisted the urge to throw myself at him, to tell him to make me forget, to make me his, but the urge passed as the seconds ticked by. I let myself back in, closing the door securely behind me. 

I stood in front of the mirror, fingers pressed against my mouth as I remembered how his lips had felt against mine. 

I’d read romance books, consumed the better ones. In them, the heroine was always on the verge of swooning when the hero touched her or kissed her. I used to scoff at such a notion that a single kiss could undo a person, but now I was starting to get second thoughts. 

Quickly, I shimmied out of my clothes and took a brief hot shower that was almost enough to wash away any evidence I had ever been touched by a man who set my senses aflame. 

When I crawled into the fluffy bed and the freshly changed linens, I didn’t dream of Nobuki. 

Not one bit.