Akira Tong for Christmas (12 page)

“Because,” he began between breaths. “Aki is a girl’s name.” He broke out in hysterical laughter, pulling me on top of him. It was hard to be offended with the amazing feel and sound of his joy this close-up.

“Well, what the hell? What am I supposed to call you for short?” He snickered into my shoulder. “Akira is too long?”

I chewed my lip, refusing to join him, tempting as it was. “I just like nicknames. What the hell is short for Akira? Ak?” I said it like a gag, and Akira lost it, hugging me tight to him. I finally gave in to laughing with him.

Through tears, he finally managed, “You can surely call me
anything
you want during sex. I honestly don’t care.”

I giggled. “Even Ak?” I gagged.

He lost it again until I was laughing too. “Okay,” he said. “Except that.” He kissed me all over my face. “That would definitely screw with my groove.”

I giggled and pressed my leg between both of his. “Wouldn’t want that.” Akira’s phone rang, and he groaned. Dragging himself off the bed, he glanced at the number and growled. “Father.” He took a deep breath and answered. “Yes.” He turned and presented me with his gorgeous backside and spoke Japanese. I smiled at the sound. Amazing. Gosh, he was so smart to know two languages so perfectly like that. Uh-oh, he sounded mad. “Fine, see you then.” He shook his head and tossed the phone on the floor. He turned, and I took in the front view, having a hard time caring about a damned thing but how devilishly and painfully sexy he was. I bit my lower lip, then met his gaze with raised brows. “Surely it’s not that bad.”

“He wants you to come to dinner.”

I jerked up. “Why?”

“Two birds with one stone, of course. Not only do you know the city, but you’re an American woman and therefore a prime source of inside information into the American female psyche of fashion.” I sucked in a panicked breath. I knew none of that. “Aki?”

“It’s fine. You’ll be fine.”

I shook my head. “No, no, I won’t.”

He climbed on the bed and lay next to me. “Yes, you will.”

“I have to confess something.”

His brows narrowed, and my heart raced.

“Remember…when I asked about if your brother, uh…helped a friend who was sick? With his work?”

He slid his forefinger along my cheek. “I already know.”

“Know what?”

“What you’re doing for your sister.” He placed those lips exactly over my nipple and suckled it.

I struggled to think past the pleasure and shock of him knowing. “How?”

“Mmm.” His tongue swirled around the tall bud. “You’re hypothetical scenario about the brothers wasn’t exactly subtle. Plus I overheard part of your conversation in the bathroom with her.” My mouth opened, but I couldn’t decide what to feel. Seemed like I should be angry, but that wasn’t working. Especially with him laving my nipple till it tingled in my clit. “How…much did you hear?”

“Enough.” He flicked the tip. “Enough to know how amazing you are. How much you hated lying to me.” He raised his head with a sexy grin. “How you thought my feet were beautiful, and that I hated you, even naked.”

I choked on my shock. “Aki!”

He grinned until those chocolate eyes danced. “I can’t tell you how happy that made me, by the way.” Any ill feelings or shame I tried to feel melted with that. I let my fingertips slide over his jaw. “I’m so sorry I lied to you.”

He leaned and went back to nibbling my nipple. “Mmm, I know you are.” My breaths increased with his sexual persistence. “I don’t really know anything about the city. Or fashion.”

“You’re very damn convincing. I’ll help.”

A tiny moan escaped me, and I forced out the words. “And fashion? What the hell do I know about that?”

“You dress fine. Just your honest opinion as a woman is all he wants.”

“I didn’t pick my clothes! This was all selected
for me
. I’m a country girl. I usually wear jeans and T-shirts.”

He opened his mouth wide, and my whole nipple disappeared inside delicious warmth. “Mmm.” His jaw worked as he sucked for several seconds, like eating my tit was the only damned thing important to him. It popped out of his mouth. “You look amazing in jeans.” Panic built despite his confidence and because of his nonchalance about it all.

“You’ll be fine. Don’t worry. We’ll wing it.”

I squealed my severe doubt about that.

“You’ve been doing it pretty well all this time. How bad could you possibly do?” I sucked in a breath at his words. They were a premonition of failure for sure.

Chapter Eleven

“How do I look?” I asked on our way out.

He locked me in his gaze. “Beautiful.”

I sighed. “I mean to other people. Are you sure this dress is enough? Or too much? I mean it’s red.

Doesn’t that, like, convey slut?”

He smiled. “Japanese love red, every shade.”

“Does my lipstick match it?”

“If I look at your lips one more time, you won’t have any lipstick left when I’m done.” I grinned and resisted the heat snaking in my belly. “And my hair?” I bit my lower lip.

“Sarah, I swear, stop being so irresistible. I beg you. Now come on, my father hates lateness.”

“Oh, then hurry!” I shooed him forward, but he merely held the door for me. I passed through and squealed when he spanked my butt, hardly able to wait to get him to myself after dinner.

* * * *

The restaurant was so damned fancy. My guts knotted as I followed Akira at a respectable distance to the private room where his father, brother, and supposed fiancée were all sitting and chatting and sipping.

His brother was the first to spot us and immediately got up for a greeting. But it was as though he had eyes only for me. He presented his killer smile before kissing my hand. I resisted the urge to pull away, not wanting another man’s lips ever touching me. I smiled pleasantly at the father and fiancée, being sure to add a slight bow. Okay, several, like a dreadful stutter.

Akira pulled out a chair for me that would put me on his left between him and his father, and Nobu pulled out the chair on his right that would put me between Akira and him. Uhh. I glanced at the two chairs, and the father gestured I should sit between the brothers. I nodded, smiled, and bowed, partly relieved, partly terrified. Good Lord, help me.

I sat, smiled some more, and nodded at Nobu while straining not to look at Akira, sure I’d give my feelings for him away.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous in red. You could be Marilyn Monroe’s daughter. I’m not kidding.” Nobu sounded entirely genuine, even amazed.

I fought not to snort. “Goodness, thank you. I’ve never been told that one before.” Desperate to get the spotlight off me, I turned to the girl sitting so elegantly across the table, hair half up, exposing her absolutely perfect face—I mean not an imperfect angle on her. “Hardly a Miss Universe. Tell me, what does it feel like being the most beautiful woman on the entire planet?” I said, not having to force my enthusiasm. Flattery was my strong point. I loved making people feel good, and I hated being the center of attention. But I also hated putting that attention on Akira’s supposed fiancée.

“Ah, yes, she is a rare beauty, isn’t she, Akira?” Nobu leaned to peer at Akira.

“Absolutely.” His warm answer sent a stab of jealousy through me. Ugh.

At his one word, said goddess lifted long lashes—fake?—and stared at Akira, shiny red lips tilted provocatively at the edges. She truly was gorgeous. I couldn’t stop watching her in her spaghetti-strapped, glittering white gown. She was an angel. Breathtaking. And staring at Akira.

“Have you ordered?” Akira asked his father.

“Yes. I expect the meal here very soon. Tell me, Akira, what you have learned about New York?

Are you finding our research accurate?”

“Yes, Father, this is the heart of America. The business is sure to succeed with New York its central location.” Akira’s answer was so monotone.

“I cannot wait to live here,” Kat said to Akira.

“I think I might live here as well,” Nobu said.

I glanced at him and found his seductive stare leveled on me, thick with sexual intentions. I cleared my throat. “It is a wonderful city, thriving with opportunity.” I reached for my water and sipped.

“You live here?” Kat asked.

“Oh, actually, no. I work all over America, but New York is one of my favorite places.”

“Where do you like to be when you’re not working?” Nobu asked.

“Well, South. I live in the South. Much warmer there. Hot, actually.”

“What part of the South?” Kat asked.

Shit, how much did these people know of America? “Mississippi. Biloxi, Mississippi.”

“I hear the beaches are decent there.” This from Nobu.

“Oh, nothing like the neighboring beaches of Florida. Beautiful there. You must take some time while here to visit. Warm your bones a little.”

Nobu gave a husky chuckle. “Mmm, I could sure stand to warm my bones. I’ve had enough cold for the year already.”

The food arrived finally, and the waiter unloaded a feast for twenty onto the table. Smelled delicious.

I studied everybody in my periphery. Kat, the father, Akira all sat like noble human statues. Nobu squeezed lemon in his water before suggesting, “I was hoping we could all enjoy the suite’s private hot tub after dinner. What do you say, Father? Kat? Akira?” He looked at me last. “Sarah?” His tone softened.

I swallowed. God, not another hot tub event. “Oh. I, uh…”

“Yes,” the father said. “We can discuss fashion trends across America. Miss Shelby will have inside information for us.”

Decision made. Okay. “Yes, of course.” I chanced a glance at Akira and caught a tic in his jaw.

Didn’t think he’d be too happy about that.

“Good. I’ve been wanting to try out my new swimwear,” Kat purred.

Oh, boy. Nice. Real nice.

“She’s lovely in everything,” Nobu said.

The father agreed with grunts and nods. Kat watched Akira, and I stole a glance at him as well.

“Yes.” His eyes bored into the center of the table. “Are we ready to eat?”

“I’m starving,” I said. “The food smells amazing. I have to admit, I don’t get authentic Japanese food nearly as much as I’d like.” I peeked at Kat. Uh-oh, she didn’t seem too happy.

“I’ll have to cook for you,” Nobu said.

Akira gave a light snort.

“What!” Nobu peered around me. He chuckled and turned his heavy stare back to me. “My big brother is jealous that I always scored higher in our cooking classes.” I smiled. “I think it’s wonderful that you guys took cooking classes. Really. American men could learn some things from you two.” I nodded.

The father grunted his agreement with pride.

“I think Akira is the better cook,” Kat sang. “He makes the best
tonkatsu
and miso soup.” Nobu argued, “Kat, your opinion doesn’t count. You’ve been biased since the day you met Akira.” She blushed and lowered her eyes prettily. Nauseating.

The waiter was at my chair now, setting five plates before me, all artistically filled to perfection with delicious food. My mouth watered. Until I got a good look at one of the small plates. Bleached brains tucked in greenery?

Waters were replaced with something that resembled wine. I nodded and thanked the waiter, hoping that was okay since nobody else seemed to think it necessary.

Everybody spoke Japanese, nodded, then picked up their chopsticks. I regarded mine. They’d provided forks, but I kind of knew how to use chopsticks. Dare I chance it? I already felt like a sore thumb, and to be the only one eating with a fork… I lifted the chopsticks, stealing glances at what Akira did, following suit. I had no clue what half the stuff on my plate was, but that was the least of my concerns. Except for that one dish.

Just get through the damned dinner without spilling
. I picked at things on my plate that were easy to eat with chopsticks. I’d simply be full before having to manage the rice. I took a hefty bite of what looked like salad with green sauce over the top. Five chews in and my mouth erupted in flames. “Oh,” I whispered, trying to chew faster to get it down, but the more I chewed, the hotter it got. “Oh,” more loudly. I reached for my wine and chased it down. But it was like gas to the flames. “Goodness,” I choked, eyes watering as I drank more.

“That’s wasabi leaves and wasabi dressing,” Nobu said, like
didn’t you know?
“Akira, you should have told her it was hot if she didn’t know.”

I chanced a glance at Akira, fanning my face and nodding, trying to say I knew, but I’d not seen wasabi in leaf form before. Akira barked some words in Japanese to the waiter, and he hurried over with a glass of water. I guzzled half of it.

“Bring milk,” Nobu ordered the distressed waiter.

I finally gasped and coughed a few more times. “I am so sorry.” The words rasped like a dying man’s. “I didn’t know about the wasabi leaves.” Shit, my eyes were watering. Was my makeup running as well? Oh my God, so stupid. I took a napkin and dabbed carefully at my face, grateful I hadn’t put on foundation. Better not be black on the napkin. I’d made sure to use the waterproof mascara after what had happened the last time. Then it hit me. I was tipsy. I’d guzzled that damned wine. Just what I needed, to trip on my feet on the way out.

The father chuckled. Then laughed full out. Kat giggled too, and then Nobu. I smiled, trying not to feel like the butt of a joke. Akira remained quiet.

“You must try the
shirako
,” Kat cooed, smiling at me.

“Shirako?”

She pointed to the one dish I’d vowed to avoid.

I regarded it. “Hoo, I’m nearing full with all that drink.”

She took a bite of hers and mmmed over it. The father said some things in Japanese to her, nodding and smiling as if she were some food-divining goddess.

I cleared the remnants of my last disaster from my throat. “I’m sure I can fit one bite.” Akira’s foot kicked my ankle, and I glanced at him. His brows were narrowed. Was it hot too? She didn’t act like it was hot. Or disgusting.

“One has to acquire a taste for shirako.” Akira said this as he went back to eating.

If taste was all that was wrong with it, I could manage. And would. I attempted to tweeze one of the white pieces only to find it was slippery and not joined as I’d thought. More like overstuffed white maggots nestled neatly in leaves. I made my sticks like a spatula and focused on keeping my upper lip down and shoveled a modest blob of the stuff onto the tip. Six inches into the journey from plate to mouth, it plopped on the table. I squeaked. “Shucks.” I tried again, this time making it to my mouth. The second it hit my tongue, I almost gagged at the feel. It was nearly tasteless till I chewed. Those slimy worms burst in my mouth and filled it with an odd fishy flavor in toe-cheesy butter. I chewed faster, making constant humming noises, trying to think of a happy place.