Love In Arms_BWWM Romance

by Erica A. Davis

  With a sigh, she turned her mind to what her mother had said and what Dawn had told her about getting engaged. She had often told herself that she did not have time to form a relationship and she would be short changing any man she entered into a relationship with; but the truth was she needed something special, she never want to settle. She wanted something her mother’d had with her father and she did not believe in accepting second best. She had been approached several times even when she had been in college but they had appeared to be immature and without goals. When she had left college she had started working on her ideas for the store and had brushed away the ones that had come her way without the slightest interest. She always told herself that she was not going to be with a man just because society dictated that she had to have one. She was going to be with one because she had fallen in love and she wanted to be with him.

  *****

  “I thought you were supposed to be helping me,” Kimone commented as she placed a glass angel on a branch of the tree. It was after six on Monday and she had closed the store to decorate her Christmas tree and had been surprised this morning at the coffee shop when Peter had told her he wanted to see what her store was about. He had taken off his obviously expensive coat and jacket and hung them on the coat hanger just inside the door.

  “I am,” he told her with a boyish grin; handing her a green bulb with gold glitters. “You are doing so well by yourself that I am afraid I would just mess up things, not having decorated a Christmas tree before.”

  “Never?” Kimone looked at him in pretend shock. “How did you survive so long without doing so?”

  “Christmas in my home was a big deal,” he told her, ignoring her teasing. “I used to wake up in the middle of the night and go look out for Santa. It’s a big deal in Japan because the children are taught to believe in the tradition of Santa giving presents and not the parents, as it is in this country so I was always thinking that Santa must love me very much to give me so many gifts.” His smile was relaxed and charming and not for the first time did Kimone notice how extremely attractive he was. His dark hair had fallen onto his forehead again and she felt the urge to fix it but it made him look boyishly handsome.

  “I got all the presents I wanted as well because I made a list.” Kimone said with a laugh. She was busy tying red and green bows on some sections of the tree and had stopped to scoop her untidy hair, securing it on top of her head with a piece of string. She had worn black wool pants and a white sweater and only a pair of gold earrings decorated her lobes. Peter thought she looked like a beautiful teenager. “Mom would strike the pretty expensive things off the list and told me that Santa had other children to think about; not just me.”

  “Practical woman,” Peter murmured, watching as she used her teeth to bite off a piece of thread to tie a candy cane on the tree.

  He enjoyed watching her and he had told her he wanted to see what her store looked like, not telling her that he had been trying to find a way to talk to her but this was the only thing he could come up with. He had been going to the coffee shop in the mornings and delighted to see that she was there most times. They would spend the few minutes talking about everything else except what he wanted to say to her. She had finally told him about the lease and about her mother offering to help but she was still hesitating.

  She had finished dealing with the tree and had fixed cups of hot chocolate with some of the delicious pastries her mother had prepared. They were sitting around the small oak table when he spoke up. “I have a proposition to make.” He told her, pushing aside his half empty cup and folding his hands on the table. “I want you to think about it very carefully before answering.”

  “Sounds mysterious,” Kimone said lightly, wondering what he was going to say to her.

  “I am going to suggest something that is going to benefit both of us.” He continued, his liquid dark eyes holding hers.

  “I am listening.”

  “I am extremely wealthy as you know and I want to settle down, also I want to help you with this place and buy the store for you with money left to do whatever additions you might want to make. The title will be in your name only so whatever happens, the store will always be yours. I am therefore asking you to marry me.”

  There was silence for a little while as Kimone tried to process what he had just said to her. A marriage of convenience? But as much as she did not want to think about that aspect of it, what had attracted her was the part where he told her about buying the store for her, the store would be hers for her to do whatever she chose.

  “No pretty Asian girls available?” she said the first thing that came to her mind.

  “You’re stereotyping,” he told her, his heart pounding inside his chest; at least she did not look repulsed by his offer so maybe there was a chance. “You don’t have to answer me without giving it careful consideration and now that I have said it, I want us to talk about anything else.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, grateful that she did not have to give her answer now because if she had it would probably be no, even though she could not stop thinking about the store being hers. Did she want it bad enough to get married to a man she barely knew? Albeit an extremely attractive and very wealthy man.

  He told her about his business and how much he enjoyed the wheeling and dealing of it and even though he had had to get used to being an employer to several thousand men and women; he tried his best to treat them fairly.

  “I can hardly manage to deal with one person working for me let alone thousands,” Kimone said with a tinkling laugh that had him staring at her lips.

  “It gets easier as time passes.” He felt his hands clenched as he realized he wanted so much to kiss her and make love to her that it was like a physical pain inside him.

  He had to leave. He had to do so now before he revealed his inner feelings and spooked her, before she had time to think about what he had said to her. It was almost seven thirty and he knew he had to offer to take her home, even though it was going to be torture for him.

  He took her home and let her off at her apartment and watched as she went inside and secured the door. She never once mentioned what he had proposed and he did not dare bring it up fearing she was going to say no, so he had to sit there beside her in the car and make light casual conversation when all he wanted to do was to pull her close to him.

  *****

  The house had belonged to his parents and it was the house he had grown up in and lived all his life. It had four bedrooms and the only thing he had changed was the bedroom he had taken as his own after his parents’ had died. He had settled on black and red colors and had changed the bed and bought a massive king sized one with a carved headboard. He did not spend a lot of time at home because his company took a lot of his time and when he was not at the office he was either traveling or in meetings somewhere. For the first time and he realized that it had happened since he had met her; he was lonely and the house was too empty. He could just hear her tinkling laughter ringing inside and her petite frame filling each room with her presence; wherever Kimone went, he was sure she drew attention without attempting to do so.

  He took up the picture of his parents’ that was very prominent on the mantel and looked at the two people smiling at him. He looked like his father, Yoshi and Miku Makeida who had been the best parents a boy could ever hope for. He took after his father but had inherited his petite mother’s inner grace and determination. She had always told him never to settle for anything less than love and never allow anyone to make him choose because he was forced to do so. He smiled as he thought what she would have said about Kimone and wished with all his heart that she was here so that she could give her very good advice.

  He put away the framed photo and wandered inside the large ultra modern bathroom. He had gutted one of the bedrooms and extended the small bathroom that was there before and remodeled the room, turning it into one of those that could appear in a house magazine. He had chosen stark colors, black, red and white and
the room was striking with the colors vying against each other. He had found the claw footed tub in a small store that sold antique furnishings and had bought it and had it restored; it now shone with creamy elegance.

  With a deep sigh he shed his clothes and realized that as much as the temperature was freezing cold, he could do well with a cold shower.

  *****

  Kimone made tea. That’s what she did when she had a situation or something bothering her, she made tea. She did not drink all of it because she was not a tea person but she found that making tea put her problems into perspective; so she was making tea and thinking.

  She had wanted to say something to him when he was taking her home but she had not known what to say. She had never thought of marriage and when she did, it had to do with love and all the works, not the clinical and cold arrangement he had told her while they were in the store. He was handsome enough and certainly had more money than she had ever seen in her lifetime, to find a woman easily so why her? After they had gone to the burger place and he had told her who he really was she had gone home and Googled him and had been quite staggered at the amount of holdings his company had. He was a freaking billionaire. So it begged the question, why would he want to marry her?

  She was thrilled at the idea of owning her own store and that kept ringing inside her head but getting married to achieve what she wanted had never entered her mind, she was not that type of person.

  He was very wealthy; not just ordinary have a couple of thousand dollars in the bank but out of her league wealthy and even though she had been brought up not to believe in one person being better than another, she knew the difference having money and not having money meant. With a contemplative sip of her lemon tea she wandered into the tiny living room and switched on the television, mindlessly changing the channel until she found something she half wanted to watch. She was not into watching T.V. but now and then she would watch a romantic comedy or something about businesses or even the home and garden channel.

  He had proposed to her. A business proposal nonetheless but the first proposal she had ever received, she thought wryly. She was lousy at dating and trying to respond when guys talked to her about anything romantic; she would end up asking them about their goals and dreams and the moment would be lost. She was more of a friend type than a girlfriend type. In college she had talked with a lot of guys and even though they had the intention of talking to her about a relationship they would end up being her friend, coming to her for advice or just to chat. She had no idea how to talk to a man romantically because she had never done so.

  She had gotten a proposal of marriage and she had no idea how to answer.

  Chapter 4

  “So let me get this straight. You want us to get married for convenience and you think I fit the bill; so basically I would be getting my store and you would be getting a wife. Aren’t you being shortchanged?” She had told him she wanted to talk to him but not at the coffee shop or at her store and he had told her he would pick her up. He had brought her to his house which she had stood in for a few minutes gaping at the unbelievable luxury and beauty of the place. She did not belong here, she was a simple girl who lived a simple life and would certainly not fit into a wealthy lifestyle. She had not called him or gone to the coffee shop in three days, preferring to avoid him He had not called her either, probably giving her space and time to think.

  They were in his kitchen where he was preparing some sort of rice meal and she was sitting on a padded stool around the marble counter watching as he deftly sliced vegetables. Her tiny apartment could fit into the room and leave a lot of space. He had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his light blue dress shirt and set to work.

  “This is called Japanese rice with salted peanuts and scallions,” he told her not answering straight away. “My parents’ insisted that I learn to cook not only American food but Japanese food as well. I find that I actually enjoying cooking, it relaxes me.” He scooped up a little of the rice and brought it over for her to taste. “What do you think?” he asked as he watched her chewing delicately.

  “It tastes great,” she said with enthusiasm, actually surprised to know that he cooked and did it so well. “I hate to cook,” she told him making a face. “My mother tried but I just did not like the kitchen and still don’t, except for making tea and canned soup.”

  He laughed at the mischievous look on her beautiful face. “Now back to your original question. I won’t be shortchanged, believe me.” He said and did not elaborate, leaving her staring at him curiously.

  She was told to go and freshen up in one of the bathrooms and Kimone found herself lingering and staring at the almost impossible elegance and the shiny taps; it was like something out of a magazine she thought, wiping her hands on the heated towels. Heated towels! For crying out loud!

  The meal was delicious and Kimone found herself accepting seconds. He told her about his parents’ and she could see that he still missed them. “Mom always read to me every night, even when I was a teenager and could read for myself,” he told her with a smile. They were sitting in the living room on a chaise lounge in front of a roaring fire and sipping hot chocolate with marshmallows swimming in the hot liquid. He had pulled the shirt from his waistband and looked very relaxed. His hair falling on his forehead as usual.

  “She sounds like she was a one of a kind mother,” Kimone said softly.

  “She was,” he answered. They sat there in silence, staring at the orange glow of the fire.

  “So what’s your answer Kimone? Shall we do this?” he had turned to face her, his hands hung loosely between his legs.

  “Am I required to cook?” she demanded, her smile peeping through.

  He stared at her and for maybe the hundredth time he felt the pull of attraction he felt for her. He had wanted to call her for the past three days. He had gone to the coffee shop those days hoping to see her. When he hadn’t seen her he panicked, wondering if he had run her off by what he had suggested. Then she had called him and he had felt as if his world was right side up again. He was in love with her but had to play it cool and not spook her. It was killing him to do so.

  “Absolutely not,” he told her softly. Kimone went still at the timbre of his voice and the way he was looking at her. “I want to kiss you,” he told her. “To seal the deal,” he hurried to add, in case she had the slightest suspicion. He reached for her and Kimone did not resist. She had taken off her bulky pink sweater because the room was very warm and had on her white undershirt that molded her breasts lovingly and showed glimpses of her white lace bra. He pulled her onto his lap and she looked at him startled as he lowered his head and reached for her lips.

  “Are you saying yes?” he asked her, his breath fanning her lips and invoking a heat inside her that was not from the fire.

  “Maybe,” she whispered, wanting to feel his mouth on hers.

  He touched his lips to hers, gently at first but when she opened her mouth he went for her tongue. Kimone went rigid as the feeling of pleasure raced through her when he deepened the kiss. She held on to his shoulders and he moved suddenly, making it so that she was half lying with him on top of her.

  His hand trembled as he felt her against him at long last. He had waited for this for so long that he wondered if he was going to blurt out his true feelings. Kimone clung to him, returning the kiss with innocent fervor, never dreaming of the tremendous effect she was having on him. With a groan he reached under her shirt and released her breast from its lace trappings, his fingers moving over the hardened nipple. Kimone gasped against his mouth, her body arching towards his. He moved from her lips and captured the nipple inside his mouth, tasting and savoring, pulling it between his teeth and sucking on it. She screamed. The sensation not one she had ever felt before. He continued feeding on her nipple, loathed to let go but wanting to taste the rest of her. But she pushed him away and for one minute he thought about not stopping but he sat up abruptly, his breathing shallow.

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nbsp; “I have to go,” Kimone muttered, hastily sitting up and fixing her clothes. She was aching in her pubic area and her nipple still had his lips on it. She had wanted him to make love to her, right then and there but she still had not decided what to do.

  “I am not going to apologize,” he told her slowly, standing up when she did. He was as hard as a rock and he knew he was going to have to endure another painful night of unrelieved passion.

  “I don’t want you to,” she surprised him by saying that. “You are clouding my mind right now and I need to think some more.”

  “How long?” he tried to sound casual but he failed drastically, it meant too much to him.

  “A day,” she told him with a smile going over to him. He had taken off his shoes but even so she barely came to his shoulders. “No longer.” She reached up her arms and wrapped them around his neck. “I love the feel of your lips on mine, maybe too much and I have to be level headed about this.” She pressed his head down to hers and his lips met hers again, hungrily, demanding and seeking. It was he who pulled away from her, almost half mad with desire.

  “I’ll take you home,” he told her hoarsely and turning away he went to put on his shoes and his coat.

  They went the entire distance without speaking, only the sound of the car radio muted and playing some sad love song. He made sure she was inside her apartment safely before driving off.

  Kimone sank down onto the old faded settee that felt and looked shabby when compared to what she had seen at his place. Her hand went to her lips, still tender and a little bruised from his kisses. It had felt like something so incredibly wonderful and she had wanted to go all the way. She had felt his erection against her and it had felt impressive. With a sigh she went inside her bedroom. She had made up her mind; she would accept his outrageous offer.