by Nikki Sloane
“Okay.” Fingertips touched my cheek, slid under my chin, and turned it into his kiss. “I’ll meet you at the United counter at the international terminal at ten.” He pushed open the door and threw me a final look. “Don’t be late. It’ll freak me out.”
I laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”
I left a message on my mother’s voicemail in the morning, letting her know I was headed out on a business trip to Japan for two weeks. She was probably at church. We only communicated through voicemail messages these days, which was fine by me. It was mostly lies anyway. I’d make up stories about my high-powered job that allowed me to live on the Gold Coast and drive a new Jag, and she’d lie about missing me and hoping we could get together. Just as soon as that busy schedule of hers settled down.
I took the CTA out to O’Hare, dragging my enormous suitcase onto the cramped train car that smelled like urine. Passport? Check. iPad? Check. Anxiety? Check and check. I was nervous about the trip, but more about the flight. I fucking hated flying. We’d have to hit the bar as soon as we were through security.
I stood just inside the sliding doors of Terminal Five by the United counter, one hand on my bag and the other worrying the hem of the pale yellow infinity scarf looped around my neck.
10:02 a.m., the clock over the departure schedule said. Where the hell was he? I shed my winter coat and proceeded to shove it inside the already stuffed suitcase.
“Payton.”
My hands froze at his deep voice. I swear, it was like it shot straight between my legs when he said my name. I slowly righted myself and gave him a once-over. Faded jeans and a striped T-shirt that was cut lean and hinted at all the wonderful things going on beneath it. Instead of going dry at the sight of him, my mouth grew damp. Like I was drooling.
What the fuck? Get a grip.
“Hi.” Yeah, my breathy voice wasn’t helping either.
He’d stopped a few feet short of me, and the strap of his laptop bag cut a diagonal between his pecs. The terminal was busy like it usually was, but I barely noticed. The only thing stealing my focus was the urge to kiss him hello. But I couldn’t decide if it was a good idea or not. I wasn’t his girlfriend, and I worried it would send the wrong message. I wanted him to think of this as a friends with benefits type of deal.
He seemed to be evaluating me as much as I was him. Unsure of what was allowed and what wasn’t. I gave up fighting sense and logic. I liked living in the now and dealing with consequences later, so it spilled from my lips.
“You gonna fucking kiss me, or what?”
He didn’t move toward me. The blue eyes heated over a playful smile. “Oh, you’re into that now? What about your rule?”
“You have some weird effect over me.” It was meant to sound off-handed and indifferent, but I think he heard right through it to the meaning that lay beneath the surface.
“Yeah?” The bag he was toting rolled closer to me, until he was only a breath away. “Good.”
He kissed me. Soft and slow, but building with fire at the end, and when he drew back, he lingered so close I wanted him to come back and do it again. That was when I had an inkling I might actually be in over my head.
chapter
TEN
Dominic thought I was kidding when I mentioned I was a nervous flier. At the lounge he watched two screwdrivers disappear into me and then canceled my attempt to score a third.
“Are you trying to get hammered?”
“That’s the plan.”
The soothing words about safety and odds that fell from him while we waited to board did nothing for me. Yeah, I knew I was safe, but that was the rational side of my brain. The irrational side was the one in control right now. It was the one that poured panic into my stomach when I followed Dominic down the jetway.
Shaky hands buckled my seatbelt. “Stop it,” I muttered to myself, willing the tremors to go away.
“Hey.” He took my hand and laced our fingers together. It temporarily disrupted my oncoming panic attack. It forced me to recall our first night together and all the sexy hand-holding. “Can I be honest?”
“Why do you ask that? You always seem to be.” I liked that about him. “What is it?”
“You’re still beautiful when you’re scared out of your mind. Why’d you agree to come with me if you hate this? I mean, you knew we weren’t taking a boat.”
“I’m not scared out of my mind,” I snapped at his backhanded compliment. “I just don’t like this part. I’ll be fine once we’re up and leveled off, and I’m not going to let it stop me from getting what I want.”
He shoved his laptop bag under the seat in front of him with his foot, not releasing my hand. I sat in the window seat and Dominic in the aisle, and I scanned the seats around us. Business class was considerably nicer than economy. Spacious chairs with their own screens. Yes, this was a much better place to die than the cattle-car section behind us.
“Can I do anything to help? Distract you or something?”
I could barely focus on the words. “Um, I guess. With what?”
“I thought maybe we could get to know some more about each other. A crash course–”
“Don’t say that word.”
He nodded, understanding but also kind of amused. Jerk.
“Tell me about yourself.” His hand squeezed mine.
I was buzzing from the screwdrivers and my stomach twisted in knots. I didn’t like talking about myself and I felt too vulnerable right now. “Not much to tell.”
“Come on. If there’s one thing you’re not, it’s boring.” His shifted in his seat, adjusting so his shoulders were angled more my direction. “What’s your family like?”
“My family?” I scowled. Ugh, no. I didn’t want to talk about them.
He looked concerned. “You don’t have family?”
“No, I do.” I straightened my scarf and tried not to listen to the sounds from outside the cabin. It was probably just luggage being loaded, but every mechanical noise or thump from below set me more on edge. “My parents live in Orland Park. Kyle, my older brother, he moved out to New York City a few years ago.”
“What do they do?”
In my altered state, I didn’t edit. “They’re all professional liars.”
“What?”
“Lawyers. I don’t want to talk about them.” I shook off his grip and crossed my arms over my chest. I had to deflect. “Milwaukee, huh?”
Given my defensive body language, he looked okay with switching gears. “Yeah. I’m a middle child. Two sisters, both married and have kids.”
“Are you guys close?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
There was a heavy thud and my seat vibrated. The luggage compartment closing, or maybe the jetway retracting, or the engine falling off the wing. I combed a hand through my hair and bit down on my bottom lip. He was well aware of my nerves. And I think he decided to use it to his advantage.
“How’d you start working at the club?” His voice was low and curious. “You’ve got a degree, and not from some shit school, either.”
I accused him with my eyes and my words. “How the hell do you know that?”
“Logan mentioned it, after the night you guys . . .”
My fear mixed with annoyance. “What exactly did his big mouth tell you?”
“Basics. That you and Evie—”
“You don’t get to call her that. It’s Evelyn.”
“You and Logan both call her Evie. I don’t know her as anything else, so get over it.” I sighed in frustration. Another one of my rules he wanted to disregard. “Anyway,” he continued, “he said you two girls were fooling around when he came home. Do you . . . do that a lot?”
“No. It was a first time for me, for us.” Actually, the only time. “What else did he tell you?”
That subtle color developed over his cheekbones. “You asked if you could join them and she agreed.”
I waited for more, but nothing else came. “That’s it?”
“I don’t really want the details on Logan’s sex life. He said the threeway was insane, like in a good way, but he spent the whole time worried she was going to freak out and he was going to fuck things up with her.”
That wasn’t surprising, but it was the first time I’d heard this. Evie and I didn’t talk about it. Not in a “that never happened” way, more in a “we don’t need to” way. A one-time, relationship-risking experience for all of us, that we luckily made it out of unscathed.
“Did you like it?” He asked it casually, but there was a tiny edge. Oh, he was curious. Such a male.
“Yeah. I don’t have any regrets.” The cabin attendant was shutting the overhead compartments, and every click felt like I was ticking closer to my doom. “This is weird, talking about it. Logan and I . . . he’s your friend.”
Dominic’s face twisted almost into a grimace. “Yeah, I try not to think about that part. Mostly the stuff before he got involved.”
The buzz and fear made my brain sluggish. “You think about me and Evie together?” Despite everything, I kind of laughed. “She’s going to be your best friend’s wife.”
“Sorry, the idea of you with another woman? Way too hot not to think about.”
“It was hot.” Desire pooled in his eyes. Oh my god, maybe I could run with this distraction. I leaned into him, my lips close to his neck. “I don’t know which I liked better, fucking her with my fingers, or with my tongue.”
He exhaled loudly and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“She was dripping wet for me. Her pussy was so warm and soft, and she made these little whimpers when I was going down on her. She screams when she comes.”
He clasped his hands in his lap, so obviously hiding his response. “Fuck, don’t tell me any more right now.”
Right now. Because he wouldn’t mind hearing more later. “You said you wanted to help me.”
“And you find tormenting me helpful?” His dark, annoyed tone was sexy.
“I do. I like watching you like this.”
“Like what?”
I searched for the word, and found it. “Frustrated.”
The aqua shifted into a stormy blue and his jaw set. “I’m going to teach you a lesson when we get to my place.”
I scoffed. “A lesson?”
“Yeah, a lesson in frustration. I’ll teach you all about it, Payton.”
This time it was me who exhaled loudly. He’d gone a year without sex. I might be about to endure a lesson from a master.
Dominic let me dig into his backstory while we rocketed down the runway and sailed into the air. He went to the University of Wisconsin and was Logan’s roommate freshman year. The girl Dominic had dated and who cheated on him, her name was Brook, and they’d met at work his second year at Chase Sports, the massive sports apparel company he still worked for.
He painted a picture of a person sort of like me. Even though he’d done everything to follow a normal life plan—college, a nine-to-five, a steady relationship—he drifted and was restless. Unlike him, I’d embraced my wild side, believing that would solve my restlessness, but I realized working at the club was just a distraction. A temporary fix. Something else was the problem, or missing.
Soon after the fasten seatbelt light went off, the Asian man across the aisle from Dominic was clearly having difficulty getting his monitor to work – I didn’t think he realized it was a touch-screen because he kept hitting the buttons on the armrest.
“Osoreirimasu,” Dominic said. Then showed the man by leaning over and tapping his screen. I’m not sure which one of us was more surprised, the man or me, to hear Japanese come from Dominic’s mouth. The man nodded a thank you.
“What?” Dominic seemed puzzled by my reaction.
Obviously he spoke Japanese. I just hadn’t thought about it. “It caught me off guard, that’s all.” And the language was a weird fit on him. “How much Japanese do you know?”
“I’m not too bad. It’s hard to learn, but I’ve been studying it for a few years now. You speak any other languages?”
“Nope. I only learned a few phrases in Dutch while I was in Amsterdam. Everyone speaks English there.”
We lapsed into silence, and now that I was calm, I guessed Dominic wanted to try to scratch the surface of Payton McCreary again.
“You never answered my question about how you started working at the club.”
“I hit on Joseph one night when I was out with friends. He recruited me.”
“Joseph. Your . . . manager.”
I nodded and picked at my nails. I knew what he wanted. An explanation about why I was the way I was, but how could I give him one when deep down I had no fucking clue myself? “I like sex. Surely that’s not a surprise.”
“No, it’s not,” he gave an amused smile, “and don’t call me Shirley.” The Airplane callback.
“Before, I worked as a customer service rep for a media company. I goddamn hated it. At the club, I got paid to do something I like.”
“How long did you work for Joseph?”
“A little less than a year.”
He fidgeted in his seat, snapping and unsnapping the cover of his iPad.
“Ask it, Dominic.”
He still hesitated. Not wanting to know and yet desperate to. “How many guys have you been with?”
“I don’t keep count. You want the ballpark?” He broke off eye contact. I didn’t know why I cared what he thought. It never bothered me before. I’d dealt with slut-shaming since high school. “I saw one client a night, every Friday and Saturday. I didn’t work every weekend, but most, but sometimes I couldn’t reach a deal with a client. I had some regulars too.”
Dominic’s shoulders tightened. “Less than a hundred.”
“At the club? Yeah. There were some before, you know, my time in high school and college.” I clenched my teeth when I saw the disappointment in his eyes. Like he was embarrassed for me. Acid rose in my stomach. “And what’s your number?”
“Less.”
Obviously less. He hadn’t had any in the last year, during which I’d been a professional. “Don’t put that fucking double-standard on me. Do you know how many guys go trolling the bars for a new girl every weekend? Why is it okay for you guys to rack up numbers, but I’m not allowed to do the same?”
His eyebrows pulled together and he looked like there was a struggle raging inside him. Maybe he knew what I was saying was true, but he still didn’t like it. Oh, well.
“I’m not going to be embarrassed about it. At least I’ve never paid for sex.”
There was that sparkling Payton personality. His back snapped straight and he scowled. I’d hurt him, but he didn’t get to have it both ways.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but you don’t get to judge me for working at the club when you’re the one who walked through the door.”
He blinked oh-so-slowly, and the hurt from his eyes faded. It came out unsteady and hushed. “You’re right.”
That wasn’t what I expected. Most people got angry and defensive when they were called out. All he did was consider my statement, and then accept it. Perhaps with a bit of reluctance, but he accepted it anyway.
“Like you, I didn’t keep count, but I’d guess my number is somewhere around fifty. And not to sound like a cocky piece of shit, but it would be higher if I wasn’t in Tokyo.”
I couldn’t help it. My eyes raked over his body. Oh, yeah.
“Someone mentioned to me once,” he said, his eyes warming a shade, “that I could walk into a bar and women would be willing to drop their panties for me. I’m not sure if I believe her, though. She may or may not be a vampire.”
How did he do that? How did he readjust his emotions so easily? I was worked up, expecting an argument, and he just dissipated everything. Another sign I was in trouble with this one.
Shit, Dominic was dangerous.
chapter
ELEVEN
It was four in the afternoon Tokyo time when we landed, but i
t felt like two in the morning to me. My eyes were heavy and burning for more sleep, but otherwise I was charged and excited. We’d each gotten a decent nap in during the flight.
Japan. I knew nothing of it other than the glamorized version from movies and TV. It was supposed to be the mecca of the cutting edge, fashion and technology. But Dominic said that wasn’t quite true. Parts of Japan had less technology than rural, small-town America did. Cash was still king, not plastic. ATMs were inside the banks, which closed at six. Fax machines were preferred over email.
The airport was beautiful, modern, and bustling with travelers, and after we got through customs and immigration and claimed our luggage, Dominic led me to the counter and bought us train passes.
The station was mostly empty. Beneath our feet, glossy white tiles looked clean enough to eat off of. We waited behind a glass wall for the train. Chicago and Amsterdam’s public transit was nothing like this. The seats on the equally clean rail car were a deep red, stain-free, and plush.
“You tired?” Dominic asked as we rode through a tunnel. The darkness made me yawn.
“A little, but I’m all right. How far is your place?”
“Fifteen minutes on the rail, then a ten minute walk.”
He didn’t seem too tired, either. I wondered if he’d asked because he was working out his ‘lesson plan’ in his head. Halfway through the flight I’d made a mile-high club joke, and he responded by telling me to keep it in my pants until we landed.
The train approached the station, and I got my first look of Tokyo from the ground. The sun had set not long ago, but the lights were on. Gleaming steel buildings stretched to the sky. To be honest, it wasn’t so different from Chicago. Busy and corporate, with taxis and cars pushed up together while trying to navigate the streets, and pedestrians with heads down, buried in their cell phones.
But the signage. Everywhere, and the characters were unrecognizable to my American eyes. Once we stepped off the train and made our way from the impressive station, I began to feel like an alien. We looked like no one else, and the conversations that passed by were shocking. The European languages have some sort of familiarity to English, but not this.