I grabbed my things and headed for the bath, hoping to clear my mind.
Unless you’d been reading manga and watching anime all your life, you might not know that the Japanese’s use of the bathtub differs, at least when it comes to the ofuro.
When using one of these tubs, you’re supposed to clean yourself before soaking in it. You lather up and rinse in a shower-like vestibule right by the tub, then you soak in the water once your body is perfectly clean.
It reminded me of the way you were supposed to cleanse your hands before you entered a Japanese temple. In Japanese it was called temizu, the word written with the characters symbolizing hand and water.
At the entrance of every temple there was a temizuya, a basin filled with clear water, equipped with wooden ladles. The ritual of purification was necessary before entering a temple; it symbolized cleansing yourself from evil and pollution.
I wasn’t a religious person, but I had to admit that the rituals of Shintoism fascinated me. From the architecture to the iconography and the temizu ritual, everything had stayed the same. There was no aura of modernity when it came to Shintoism.
I undressed and started scrubbing my body, hoping to erase my sinful thoughts from my tumultuous heart.
People always like to say, The heart wants what the heart wants.
Well, I didn’t agree with that. It wasn’t always okay to follow your heart and give in to your heart’s desires, especially when it meant meddling in someone’s relationship.
The heart sometimes needed to just shut the hell up.
I wanted him, but I’d tried my hardest to stay away from him since that night in Seattle. Now that we were in Japan and he’d broken up with his girlfriend…?
Was it because of me?
I didn’t want to be the catalyst of their demise; I lived with enough guilt already.
The warm water of the hand shower washed away the soap, and I focused on my breathing in hopes of calming down my erratic heartbeat. Once I was completely soap-free, I entered the tub.
The water was a bit too hot, but I endured it as if it was my punishment, unable to shake off the feeling of guilt. On top of realizing that I might have been the reason behind their breakup, my brain wouldn’t shut up, reminding me that Amos could finally be mine.
Now you can have him, said a voice inside of me, making me feel even shittier.
I was a crappy person—a selfish, crappy person.
I didn’t deserve to live. I should have been the one pinned by a car that night.
Why did fate want it otherwise?
Maggie was the one who deserved to live, not me.
I rested my head on the edge of the tub and closed my eyes, tears pricking as memories of my friend took over my restless soul.
“Lena, are you in there? I need to talk to you.”
LENA
“Go away. This is not the time, Amos,” I said, loud enough for him to hear me.
My words didn’t discourage him, however, because a second later, he opened the door.
Motherfucker.
I clenched my jaw as I saw the door slide open. The water in the ofuro covered my breasts, but still. With no soap in the water, unlike a bubble bath, you could see right through it.
Fuck it. I had nothing to be ashamed of. He was the asshole in this scenario.
His eyes widened, pausing appreciatively on me before he diverted his gaze elsewhere. How dare he come in here? He needed to get out.
“What the hell are you doing, Amos? I’m in here. Get out.”
The blood rose to my cheeks and I gave him a bitter look, lips pursed in annoyance, but that didn’t stop him.
Instead, he started undressing on the spot. He pulled his t-shirt from the back, exposing his abs in a move so seductive it almost looked rehearsed. If this was a plea to get me to pay attention to him, the fucker got his wish. He ditched his shirt and caught me staring at him.
Unfazed by my scowl, he seemed determined to keep going. It was the first time I had seen him naked. He was lean, but strong. His shoulders were broad, his arms defined. Despite his geek status, he cared about his appearance, and even while we’d been there, he had managed to keep up with his exercise routine. I had seen him go on runs early in the morning and do push-ups outside in the courtyard.
Once I even saw Rika-san gawking at him.
As his eyes met mine again, the corners of his lips curled up in a lazy smile. I was turned on and utterly confused. I didn’t understand what kind of game he was playing.
I wanted no part of it. In fact, I almost wanted to just stand up naked in front of him, just to get away from him.
However, I didn’t move, frozen in place by what was unfolding in front of me.
Unbuckling, to be precise.
Did he think I was going to let him in the ofuro with me?
He’s out of his mind.
Amos proceeded to unbuckle his belt and pull down his jeans. I kept staring, curious to see how far he was going to go with this striptease.
All the way, apparently.
He pulled down his jeans first and hung them up.
His boxer briefs were next, and I got an eyeful of his cock before managing to divert my gaze elsewhere. I stared at the blue tiles on the wall, watching him out of the corner of my eye.
He hung his clothes next to my robe.
“You know, you’re not supposed to come in here clothed. You’re doing this wrong.”
“You’re right. I’ll come in naked next time,” he replied without missing a beat.
“You should leave, Amos,” I said, hoping my voice would not betray me. My heart pounded against my ribcage, and a familiar ache spread in my lower belly.
I shot him an angry look, but outrage and enthrallment went hand in hand.
Seeing him naked almost made me forget why I had gone in there to begin with.
He doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore.
What I wanted, what I longed for could happen right then.
Amos sat down on one of the small stools and proceeded to lather himself up. I tried not to look at his body, but I failed. I stared at him as he kept his eyes closed and shampooed his hair.
His long legs stretched out in front of him as he covered his skin with foamy soap bubbles. I didn’t take my eyes off him as he lathered up his skin and his strong arms. There was a faint line across his biceps, where his t-shirt sleeves usually fell. He brushed his hair back as he rinsed it. With his hair wet and slicked back, he looked different than usual, his masculine profile more visible.
I sat in the warm water, attempting to appear impassive while watching him. Rivulets of water fell down his face, drops falling from his chin, and I once again fought the impulse to leave the room.
“I’m in here taking a bath, in case you haven’t noticed,” I said in a bitter tone.
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” he said, opening his eyes briefly, shooting me another appreciative glance. His voice was gravelly, but his tone was playful. He closed his eyes, lips curled in a wicked smile.
I suddenly pictured him like a big bad wolf ready to eat me.
Maybe because I wanted him to.
Still, I wasn’t ready to give in just yet. I wasn’t through sparring with him.
“Seriously? Come on, get the fuck out.”
His brown eyes gave me a teasing look. He smiled again, looking imperturbable. It was summer, and still bright outside. The light in the room made his eyes look a greenish brown.
It was such a strange, peculiar hue, but so fitting for him. The color of his eyes was like the color of some Japanese ceramic—not quite brown, not green.
Something in between.
My thoughts prompted the question in my head. What about the something between us? What was going to happen?
Amos had certainly entered the room with some kind of plan.
What was his angle?
“Don’t be stingy, Lena,” he teased, waking me from my daydream. “There’s room for both of us. The ofuro
is meant to be shared, you know.”
He might have been right about there being enough room for both of us—I had seen plenty of movies and even anime where an entire family would bathe together—but Amos and I? We didn’t belong in the ofuro together.
“No fucking way,” I muttered through gritted teeth.
“Come on, Lena. There’s plenty of room. I’m not even looking at you.” He gave me a quick once-over. “I mean, I could. I do want to,” he teased.
I snorted. “You are, in fact, looking at me, shithead. You just did.”
“I didn’t see you look away when I undressed,” he responded.
“It’s your own fault for undressing in front of me. Why should I look away?”
“Fair enough.” He shrugged before turning the water of the little showerhead on and rinsing his body. Once again, I was distracted by the rivulets of water running along his naked skin.
He opened his eyes, his long eyelashes still dripping with water.
“I’m not saying I’m mad about it. I want you to look at me, but I know I’m overstepping, so I promise you I’m not going to touch you and I’m not going to look at you…unless you want me to.”
“Ha!” I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at him. I loathed his easy smile. The ache in my chest warned me I was in big, big trouble.
The wolf was going to eat me up, all right. He hadn’t even touched me, and he already had me in the palm of his hand.
He turned off the water and rubbed his hair with a small towel to remove the excess moisture.
My mouth went dry, and I licked my lips. When he turned my way, his eyes met mine then drifted to my lips.
“I promise I’m going to be good, and I will not look at you below your neck, though I don’t care if you want to look at me.” A sweet smile stretched across his face as if he were trying to make me feel comfortable, but he was actually achieving the complete opposite.
He knew I’d been ogling him, and he wanted me to look at him some more.
A voice in my mind told me to not fall for it, but his bright, amused eyes were all too inviting. It was obvious he wanted me to look.
He stood, and I didn’t avert my gaze. I followed every movement as he hung up the towel around his neck. I stared at his firm ass and then my eyes traveled up to his back and shoulders. When he turned around, my eyes met his, and I did not shy away. I kept my gaze on him, taking in his broad chest, his defined but barely there abs, all the way down to his cock.
No, I’m not going anywhere. I wasn’t the intruder. I was going to stay put. He wouldn’t win. He had no power over me.
I watched him step into the tub, his private parts at my eye level. I felt my cheeks redden, but I was determined to not look away.
He sat down on the opposite edge of the tub. It was circular, approximately eight feet in diameter, so there was a decent distance between us. The water was still warm, and he hummed as he rested his head against the edge of the tub.
I had been playing along, but I resented seeing him so relaxed. How could he be so nonchalant about being naked together? How dare he interrupt my alone time just to shove his big dick in my face?
I’d told myself I wasn’t leaving, but enough was enough. I didn’t have anything to prove.
I grabbed the edge of the tub and lifted myself up.
His eyes flew open and his gaze traveled up my body, his mouth ajar. When his eyes met mine, there was a certain expression I hadn’t noticed earlier. He’d burst into the room with defiance and cockiness, but now his eyes were filled with worry.
“Don’t go,” he said, his voice tender in a way I hadn’t heard from him before.
He reached for my hand and pulled me back.
A small smile stretched on his face, and a deep breath flared through his nostrils.
I didn’t know what to think.
I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t know what I should want.
All I knew and all I could think was that I did want him—so, so badly. I was completely turned on by him, his body, the uncanny way he seemed to tease me and push all my buttons.
He held my hand, looking up to me with hazy eyes full of lust and need.
I saw him swallow as his gaze traveled down my body, pausing at every curve.
I felt desirable, beautiful.
Powerful.
“You said you weren’t going to look,” I reprimanded him.
His disarming smile was all it took for the butterflies to make a reappearance in my stomach.
“I’m a weak man, Lena. I want to keep my promise, but you’re too beautiful not to look at. Stay here with me. Please?”
Brows furrowed, I stared at his face, waiting for my innate badassness to come to the rescue and help me leave, but the bitch called in sick.
My resolve wavered, and I stopped pulling away from Amos’ hand.
He took that as a yes, and he immediately brought me down on him.
Water splashed everywhere, and in a matter of seconds, I found myself straddling him, one of his hands on my ass, pressing me against his erection.
Son of a bitch.
We were skin to skin, my breasts squeezed against his chest, his other hand cradling my head, our lips barely brushing.
No, no, my mind said.
It was too close, too soon, too fast.
It was a mistake, but I wanted it too much to run away from it, from him. I wanted to feel his hands, his breath on my skin. My insides coiled at the thought of giving in and surrendering to him completely.
I liked to think I had enough self-respect to not let him manipulate the situation in his favor.
He leaned in for a kiss, and I pulled back.
He opened his eyes and found me staring at him. Brows pulled together, he searched my eyes for approval, but I shook my head.
“Was this your plan all along?” I asked.
“What? What plan?”
“This, Amos,” I said, gesturing at the evidence. “Was this your plan all along? To get me to straddle you in a tub—which, by the way, is not made for kinky stuff.”
He laughed, and I hated how much I reveled in the sound of it.
“You’re cute when you say ‘kinky.’” He smiled but I glared at him.
“And you’re an asshole.”
“You’re probably right,” he replied, as if my words humored him.
He leaned in, attempting another kiss—and this time I let him.
Soft, warm, inviting. They felt just as good as I remembered them. He had barely touched me, and my head was already spinning, the anticipation killing me.
He parted my lips with his tongue, and I granted him access. I couldn’t say no to him, as much as I wanted to preserve myself.
I was as weak as he’d confessed to be, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with this, not with all of it, at least.
His tongue danced around mine, the taste, the feel of him just as good as I remembered. I had held on to the memory of his kiss for so long, and I felt my chest explode with emotions I wasn’t equipped to handle.
Despite the warm water, my skin was covered in goose bumps, his kiss, his touch sending shivers down my spine as the arousal in my lower belly intensified, propelled by the friction of his erection.
My will was crumbling, my body coming undone, but my mind kept shouting questions that needed to be addressed.
I brought one of my hands underwater and circled his cock with my fingers, giving it a squeeze. My touch was gentle at first. Amos moaned in my mouth, devouring it even more forcefully. One of his hands reached down between my lips, but I moved it away.
I was the one in control, and I needed answers.
I deliberately started stroking him a bit harder than I should have and he broke the kiss, letting out a small hiss, confusion clouding his face.
“Ouch! Lena, be gentle.”
“You owe me an explanation, Amos.”
“About what?” he asked. “What is there to talk about?”
&nbs
p; Typical men. I cocked one eyebrow at him, and he sighed.
“Does it have to be now?” he asked, frustrated.
“Yes, it has to be now,” I said, giving his cock another couple of strong strokes that brought him to the edge of pleasure and pain.
“Oh fuck!” he mouthed, biting his bottom lip. He grabbed one of my breasts and squeezed my nipple, hard.
“Ouch! You fucker!” I slapped him on the arm, water splashing all around us.
“You started it!” he rebuked.
“I need you to tell me what happened.” My voice was firm, but I was losing my patience.
“We broke up,” he said with a shrug.
“No shit, Sherlock. Why?”
“Don’t you know why?” he asked with an air of defiance.
“No, I don’t. I’m not in the habit of meddling in other people’s business.”
“True. Are you done assaulting my cock, now?” he asked defensively.
“Not quite,” I said, keeping a grip on it but giving it a gentle stroke this time.
His eyes softened, and he exhaled a deep breath. He reached between my lips again, and I swatted his hand away. We glared at each other for a few seconds. He licked his lips, and I had to fight the impulse to kiss him.
“Will you let me touch you if I answer your questions?”
“Yes,” I replied in my best seductive tone, teasing him by playing with one of my nipples. I saw him swallow, and I loved that I had that kind of power over him.
“Ask away,” he said, resigned, stretching his arms along the rim of the tub.
“Why did you two break up?”
“We weren’t in love anymore. We hadn’t been for a while,” he replied, sounding sincere.
“Was it mutual?”
“No. I broke up with her. I should have done it sooner.”
“You know the last thing I should let you do is get in my pants when you just broke up with your girlfriend, right?”
“You’re not wearing any pants,” he said with an adorable smirk.
“Careful, mister. I wouldn’t push it if I were you. My hand is still around your cock.”
He sighed, but then his lips curved into a smile.
“You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Andrews,” he teased. “But you’re wrong about something.”
The Art of Us Page 17
