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.”
A One Night Affair (Kissing the Boss Book 2) Page 8
