by Aja James
She inhaled deeply as he drove on. Even with the incessant downpour she could pick up his intoxicating scent. And suddenly she wasn’t cold any more as her blood started to simmer on high.
After a short while, or perhaps it was longer and she just didn’t feel it, he stopped the motorcycle in front of what looked to be a used book store. He dismounted in one smooth movement (and Ava wanted to sigh at his feline grace) and helped her clumsily clamber off.
As Ava watched in silence, he raised a manual garage door and pushed the bike inside. She followed him into the small garage while he secured the door again, then shuffled after him as he led the way through another door in the back to a small fenced courtyard and the house that stood behind the book shop.
When they were inside the house and he locked the door behind them, he finally spoke again.
“There’s a shower in the back down the hall. You should have a hot one. Take as long as you like. I’ll make some tea in the meantime.”
“What about you? You’re soaked too,” Ava said, forgetting to appreciate his beauty for a moment as concern for his wellbeing overrode her one-sided attraction.
His lips tipped slightly at one corner again. “Would you like me to join you in the shower? There’s only one.”
Up in flames Ava went. She could probably fry an egg on her face. “I don’t mind…”
Arrgghhh! Social filter! She couldn’t just say whatever popped in her lust-fogged brain first!
“I mean, if you want to…”
She clapped both hands on her mouth in mortification and squeezed her eyes shut, praying the floor would open up beneath her so she could bury her head in the dirt.
She heard a quiet sound that was half snort, half huff. She wouldn’t open her eyes and see him laugh at her. It was humiliating enough already.
“You go ahead without me,” he said in a neutral, polite tone, without any inflection.
But as she turned to shuffle away in the direction he indicated, he added, “this time.”
Implying that next time, he just might join her.
Chapter Three
While Ava scolded herself in his shower for her most recent faux pas, Ryu went through the motions of preparing traditional Japanese tea.
He had hated tea ceremonies when he was a boy, having watched his mother go through the elaborate procedure of preparing, serving and drinking the tea as a prelude to the other services she performed for her clients.
But over the years, since he’d freed himself of his human past, he found the preparation and partaking of tea to be meditative, soothing even. It was a link to a sordid, violent past perhaps, but it was a past that contained a mother, when he was not entirely alone in the world.
“Um, I hope you don’t mind. I hanged my wet things on the towel bars.”
Ryu looked up after putting the final touches on the tea setting to find Ava shifting uncertainly from foot to bare foot, smothered in his bathrobe, wet hair a mess of tangles over her shoulders.
“And I used your bathrobe,” she added rather obviously.
He nodded. “I see. I am rather possessive of that bathrobe. You’d better give it back to me now.”
Her Bambi eyes widened and her mouth formed a small O.
He looked back down without changing expression, except for a tell-tale tilt of his lips.
Ava let out a breath, deciding that he was just teasing. He hadn’t meant for her to strip naked right in front of him to return his bathrobe.
Had he?
“Have a seat,” he invited, kneeling down on the traditional tatami mat and tucking his long legs beneath him.
Ava did likewise without the grace he exuded with ease. The excuse she gave herself was that she was trying not to flash him on her way down in a bathrobe that wasn’t entirely secure around her naked person. It was a very tricky undertaking, for she had many parts, none too small, that needed to remain politely tucked away.
When she finally settled on the floor comfortably, if not elegantly, she said, “Thank you for saving me from the downpour and warming me up.”
He peered at her casually through spiky black lashes, straight and long. “Have I warmed you up? Is there anything else I can do to raise your temperature?”
Ava froze and said ever so articulately, “Uh…”
He looked back down as he carefully poured her tea into a small iron bowl. “We wouldn’t want you to catch cold, after all.”
“I’m pretty hot right now, thanks,” Ava replied hastily. Then added, “I mean comfortable. I’m quite comfortable.”
Belatedly she noticed that he was still in his wet clothes, though his jacket seemed to have kept most of his torso dry. His hair was molded to his scalp and face, bringing his unique combination of features into stark relief.
His disheveled state was the exact antithesis of the immaculate professional he appeared to be on the plane. Now he looked untamed, earthy, elemental.
Dangerous.
“You should take your shower too,” she urged, “you should get out of those sodden clothes.”
He presented her tea arrangement and looked into her eyes.
As he held her gaze, Ava held her breath. Surely she hadn’t stuck her foot in her mouth again, had she? Why was he staring at her and not saying anything? Could he possibly be contemplating fulfilling his implicit promise that he might take a shower with her? How long had they been staring at each other? She was starting to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen…
Finally, after probably just a couple of seconds really, he unfolded his long, lean body and stood.
“Enjoy your tea. Sip it slowly so the flavor and aroma have time to soak in. It’s best that way. There is also some sake on the side if you prefer a faster way to get toasty. I’ll be back shortly.”
Ava released the breath she’d been holding and slouched in relief. The tea bowl was a bit too hot to hold so she downed a small cup of sake in one gulp, hoping the alcohol would soothe her nerves.
Yum. Not bad at all. She much preferred the sake to the tea, never having been a tea person.
Although, Ava wasn’t overly fond of alcoholic beverages either. She didn’t like how most of the drinks tasted, but she did enjoy the dessert flavors like Baileys and Kahlua and Milk. She never got the happy buzz everyone said alcohol induced. Whenever she drank more than she could handle (which was about half a cup) she just felt lethargic and dizzy.
But this sake she could learn to appreciate. It was heated just right and went down smoothly, filling her belly with a tingling warmth.
She looked around the sparsely furnished room with curiosity. A simple but bright overhead paper lantern diffused light and shadows against the shoji screens and fusuma walls which featured serene mountain-scapes with curly clouds specific to Japanese art. In the center sat a table with short legs, upon which rested the tea service her host had generously prepared. She had learned in her Googling today as she toured the city that it was called chabudai.
There were two thin pillows, or zabuton, to sit on, on each side of the table that she was having trouble getting used to. If she sat directly on them and pretzeled her legs, her butt was going to get sore pretty quickly despite its generous padding. If she tucked her legs underneath her, she’d soon lose feeling in them and topple ingloriously onto her face. She knew herself well enough to foresee that inevitability.
She’d never been good at balance and meditation. She was too full of nervous energy to sit still. And with her host’s tantalizing presence, she was even more on edge than usual.
Ava poured and downed another cup of sake.
Slightly better. She could focus again on her perusal of the room. No walls of weapons, she noticed, always a good sign. Though, of course, if he were a serial killer he’d probably hide his instruments of torture rather than display them at large. And she couldn’t see what lay behind a half folded byobu screen in one corner that was painted with similar mountain-scapes.
She looked at the tea and sake settin
g. How long would it take for her to feel adverse reactions if it were poisoned?
She shrugged. Maybe it was the alcohol, and maybe it was her inexplicable trust in her Knight—she felt she was in good hands with Ryu Takamura.
If only he would take her in those beautiful long-fingered hands of his…
“Feel better?”
Ava was in the process of pouring herself another cup of sake when her host reappeared, freshly showered and clothed in a loose black button-less shirt and black trousers.
Ava’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the smooth expanse of satiny-looking golden skin that stretched tautly over sharply defined pectorals and abdominals, revealed by the open shirt.
Her mouth dried up like the Saharan Desert.
Quickly, she drank the sake before the cup slipped from her numbed fingertips. Extremities were the first to go when there was a lack of blood circulation, as was the present case, when all her blood was headed below her waist.
She forcibly shifted her eyeballs away from his person to roll aimlessly around the walls of the room.
He tilted his head slightly when she hadn’t responded to his simple question for a lengthy period.
“Better,” she finally echoed and determinedly looked down at the tea setting.
Ryu sat down at the table and helped himself to some tea.
Minutes ticked by in silence as he savored the warm drink, kept heated by the iron bowl. Used to being alone, Ryu was in no hurry to break the silence, but he realized that perhaps his reticence was making his guest uncomfortable.
Why her comfort mattered to him he did not want to investigate.
“Have you been to Japan before?” he asked innocuously.
In truth, he would prefer not to converse with her. He didn’t want to know anything about her that wasn’t relevant to the mission at stake. At the same time, he also knew that the more he could get a target to open up, the more successful he would be at completing his task.
She looked up but didn’t meet his eyes. Rather, her gaze seemed unfocused somewhere around his right eyebrow.
“No, I’ve always been afraid of trans-oceanic flights. I don’t like flying in general. But I’ve always wanted to visit Japan. I’m a small part Japanese actually.”
Inwardly Ava grimaced. She tended to share more information than was necessary when she was nervous. She really sucked at making small talk. She either talked too much or too little and she never made the “right” sort of comments and responses.
“Really?” he murmured and scanned her leisurely from top to bottom. She assumed he was trying to ascertain whether there was any glimmer of Japanese heritage in her looks.
“I don’t look Asian,” she stated the fact directly.
“No, you do not,” he readily agreed.
Ava’s eyes darted for a fraction of a second to his, then slid back to his eyebrow. She wondered whether his statement held any judgment behind it.
“You look… warm.”
And soft. Inviting. Delicious. But those adjectives remained unsaid.
Ava smiled a little. She supposed there were worse things she could look.
“Japanese women are so dainty and elegant,” she said, just a bit enviously. “Even the tall ones I’ve seen are dainty. So slim and graceful.”
“They remind me of praying mantises.”
The comparison was so startling, Ava looked into his eyes again.
Ryu poured another bowl of tea, held it in one hand and gestured subtly with the other. “All straight lines and sharp angles. Whereas you, on the other hand…”
Ava leaned forward a little, the better to take in a compliment if he was feeling generous.
“…Are like a bumble bee.”
Oh. She sat back again as her face fell, though she immediately tried to make her expression more neutral lest he saw her disappointment.
“Round and furry,” he added salt to her wounds.
Worse and worse! What woman wanted to be called round and furry?! Ava couldn’t conceal her dismay this time as her shoulders hunched and her head bent and her cloud of frizzy, unbrushed hair fell forward to shield her embarrassed face.
What Ryu kept to himself was that he’d always liked bumble bees.
Ever since he was a boy, he’d watch the ones in the small inner garden of the brothel he called home buzz from flower to flower for hours. They were so industrious and friendly. As well as aerodynamic conundrums. How could such tiny, insubstantial wings hold up such heavy loads? He’d chase after them with his palms cupped beneath their flight path in case they suddenly lost their fight with gravity and tumbled to the ground.
“And I am a mouse, am I not?” he reminded her, amused with the memory himself.
Ava’s head shot up again. She was starting to feel like one of those Bobblehead dolls New York cab drivers put on their car dashboards.
“Or was it a horse?”
Ava’s face began to burn. Why did he have to remind her of that? She supposed it made them even for his bumble bee comment about her. But just so he was clear—
“Horses are beautiful,” she said rather defiantly, “you should be flattered. Horses are my favorite animals. They’re noble and brave and hard-working and loyal and…”
“Well-hung,” he finished neutrally.
Mayday! Mayday! Face in flames! About to blow! Ava bit her lower lip as if that would keep her from self-combusting.
“Well they are,” she muttered beneath her breath, looking down again. But not before she glanced hopefully in the direction of his crotch. Alas, it was hidden by the table and his loose trousers. She needed another shot of sake and started to pour herself one.
“How many of those have you had?” he asked, a note of concern in his voice.
“Not enough, apparently,” she said.
“You should take it easy,” he warned, “they are quite potent.”
So is your voice and your smell and your face and your body! She wanted to cry. She needed to either knock herself out so she couldn’t embarrass herself further or get too drunk to care.
He froze and gazed at her intently, his obsidian eyes glittering.
Oh dear lord. Did she say that out loud again?
Ava slapped a hand to her forehead and swiped it none too gently down her face. “Thank you again for rescuing me from the rain and giving me shelter,” she said, determined to wrestle some semblance of control over the conversation. “And a hot shower and your bathrobe and—”
“I do want that back, you know,” he interjected in all seriousness though there was that tell-tale tilt of his lips.
“—very satisfying libation. If you will lend me your phone, I can call a taxi and head back to the hotel now.”
And end this nightmare of mortification.
He considered her for a few quiet moments before he spoke. “It’s after midnight. The storm is still raging outside. You won’t be able to get any rides until morning. You will have to remain here for the time being.”
“I’m sorry to impose,” she said, not bothering to argue, and didn’t sound the least bit sorry. Her tone was still combative. She knew she was being rude and ungracious, but she couldn’t help it. He made her more awkward than any other person she’d ever met.
Intense sexual attraction tended to impair judgment. Combined with alcohol… Ava wished she could just pass out and forget this whole thing.
“Would you mind if I turned in for the night?” She knew she should offer to help clear the table, maybe wash the dishes, but she didn’t trust herself to not be an ass in his presence. She would probably remember him forever, especially after this night, for better or for worse. But he’d always think of her as a bumbling idiot who had verbal diarrhea.
“Bumble bee” was kind of appropriate in this context.
Ryu considered the warm, voluptuous woman in front of him, her cheeks rosy, lioness hair disheveled, bathrobe gaping enough to show some very generous curves.
It was a good thing the table an
d his loose trousers hid his massive erection, a good thing she hadn’t really looked at him since he emerged from the shower because when he came into the room, he’d led with his cockstand. No amount of loose cotton material was going to hide that.
It wasn’t what he wanted.
His body was behaving with a mind of its own. He’d always been able to control it before to do his bidding. If a source of information needed to be fucked for him to get it, he’d order his penis to harden and do its job. Ejaculation was no more than a well-timed full-bodied sneeze, and only when he needed to, only if it was part of the act.
It meant nothing to him beyond the release of bodily fluids. Like blowing your nose.
His reaction now—it was completely involuntary. And no matter how he willed himself to desist, his body wouldn’t cool down.
On the other hand, mission aside, he needed to feed, and he could make sure she was ready and willing. It would not take much persuasion, if any. In return, he could give her his sex and unimaginable pleasure. He’d learned how to give pleasure excessively well. That was obviously all she wanted from him.
And afterwards it would be business as usual. No strings attached.
Except he didn’t trust himself to touch her. Or, worse, for her to touch him. He couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t feel pleasure as well. That sex between them would simply be the purely physical task it had always been for him. She might be able to walk away in a cloud of post-coital bliss and nothing more. But he…
He had a feeling he would hurt.
A lot.
“Come with me, then,” he finally said, getting to his feet and almost held out a hand to her. But then thought better of it.
And if she noticed the baseball bat inside his pants, there was nothing he could do to hide it.
She got up looking anywhere but at him and followed as he took just a few steps to slide aside a fusuma partition, revealing a smaller chamber that was no more than twelve feet on each side.
Ava watched as he unrolled a bundle on the floor, a sort of sleeping bag, and put a cylindrical pillow at one end of it.
“You might have back pains in the morning,” he said, “It takes some getting used to.”