No Ordinary Love (3 page)

Swallowing, I edged away and tried to rush off with Zo as he left the office. But I wasn't so lucky. Mr. Sato seized my arm and gently pulled me. “Not you, Tora.”

I should’ve listened to Zo earlier and stuck with the smaller spots.

Everyone departed without any words of protest. Zo, being the brave man he was, fast-walked out of there as if his life depended on it. All the suited men that lined the walls marched out and didn’t even glance my way.

“Mr. Sato, should I shut the door?” Jun placed his hand on the knob and waited for a response.

Ignoring him, Mr. Sato continued to sear me with his gaze. My skin heated. My heart beat so fast I thought it would detonate. I knew he wouldn’t kill me. I believed he wouldn’t rape or hurt me. There were too many witnesses. And I had my rights as an American.

Right? He can't just kill me?

But I had no idea what Mr. Sato wanted. Hot or not, I didn’t like him so close. Especially when he assumed he could command me like his men or touch me like a lover.

The door slammed and with it left my quick escape.

Chapter 3

NYOMI

“Is there something wrong, Mr. Sato?” I risked a glance at him.

“Call me Kenji, and yes, there's something wrong. You can’t do the study here or anywhere else.”

I gritted my teeth. “Why not?”

“You’re stunning.”

I blushed again, but shook the girly giddiness away. “Kenji, I really need to do this study. If not here, then somewhere else.”

“Do you have a boyfriend or husband?” He glanced at my bare ring finger.

“No, and why can’t I observe other soaplands?”

“I’ve already told you why. You’re captivating, unique, and sexy.” He tucked a few curls behind my ear and let his fingers linger on my face before moving his hand away. “I thought you would be ugly.”

“Why would I be ugly?”

“Jun looked your name up. He told me you published your first and only non-fiction book at sixteen.”

“Good research, but that still doesn't answer my question.”

“Was the book good?” he asked.

“It was an international bestseller.”

“What was it about?”

“My father.”

“Interesting.” He smiled. “I bet your father is proud of you and the book.”

“Actually, my father despises me for putting the book out, but that doesn't really matter right now, since he's behind bars.” I stepped back.

“Yet, you still can't seem to replace the recorder that he bought for you?”

“Yes, because it has sentimental value.”

“You’re complicated.”

“I’m a writer that wants to do a story on your place.”

He frowned. “Why haven't you put out any more books?”

Who cares? What is this guy playing at?

Unease plopped down in my stomach. “I've had a hard time finding a topic that will be as successful as the first.”

“And then you considered soaplands?”

“Well, soaplands as well as all of Tokyo's underground sex industry. In fact, this soapland is going to help me paint the whole story.”

“No. It will not.”

I raised one finger. “Jun gave me permission.”

“Jun has no authority here. Compared to me, he's as powerful as a janitor. I thought you'd be unattractive. If he'd told me otherwise, I would've never met with you.”

“Excuse me?” I held my hands out to the side. “Why in the hell would putting a book out make me unattractive?”

“Female success at such a young age suggests that she's more focused on other things instead of looks. She's not ugly, just not radiating sex. That's the woman that can walk through here and simply observe. You're not that woman.” He dragged his gaze over my body. “You're something else entirely.”

“I can stop … radiating sex.” I touched my chest. “I mean really. I've spent my life being unsexy.”

“I'm still saying no, Tora.”

My freaking name isn’t Tora.

I counted to ten and then said, “Fine, I'll just do my observations somewhere else.”

“No.” He grinned like I’d told him a cute little joke. “You can’t do the study anywhere else. Not everyone is going to be as nice as me. They’ll see you as a commodity. You may end up in an awkward position or even one hazardous to your health. I have enough responsibilities. I'm not adding ‘keeping an American girl safe’ to my list.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I bet you can, but you’re no longer allowed to walk around Kabukichō District.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You don’t command the whole district.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Don’t I? Maybe next time you should figure out who you’re talking to before meeting with them.” He guided his gaze down my body again. “However, I’m glad I saw you first.”

Hunger glazed over his eyes. I felt naked and stepped away until my back pressed against the door. He closed the distance. Any other time, I might’ve been repulsed, slapped his face, or even screamed out curses to urge him to get away. Instead, my insides clenched with need. He reeked of power and menace, and I loved that he wanted me.

Get a hold of your stupid hormones.

I formed my hands into fists. My Japanese culture books said nothing about what to do when a sexy asshole didn’t respect my space.

“This Zo, why aren't you with him?” he asked.

“That's none of your business.” I sighed. “Is there a reason why you’re so close?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, I’m told that Japanese men who press up on women against their will are
chikan
? Is that what you are?” I asked.

“Do I look like a pervert that gropes people in subway trains?” He placed his hands on the door behind me and further trapped my body in his vicinity. “I’d like to suggest another option besides you coming to learn about my club.”

I inched to the left. “What is it?”

“Let me take you somewhere to eat. Maybe we can go dancing?”

“And how will going out with you help my book?”

“Completing the book is your goal, not mine.”

“Then what’s your aim in taking me out?”

“To be inside you as soon as possible.”

My lips parted as he moved closer, pressing his body into mine. My nipples hardened. Dear God, why did they stiffen under the pressure of his solid frame smoothed against mine? “Okay. You need to move, Mr. Sato.”

“Call me, Kenji?”

“You’re too close, Kenji.”

“You’re lucky I don’t have the time tonight to pull off those jeans.”

My mouth dropped open. I recovered quickly. “I’m going to knee you, if you don’t give me space.”

He laughed. “I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before.”

“Well, there’s always a first for everything.” I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him a little. “Are you going to move?”

“No. I’m going to see if you taste as sweet as you smell.” He moved in to plant a kiss on my mouth. I turned to escape that mouth. It didn’t save me. He landed a soft kiss on my skin, brushed his lips in a circle over my cheek, and gently bit. The area where he bit tingled with pleasure. Shivering, I gasped and arched my body into him.

Goodness. Get a hold of yourself.

He sucked a little and released my flesh. “You still need me to move?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“I won’t.” He set his hands on my waist. “I have things to do, but I’m free later. What time should I pick you up? Where are you staying now? What’s your number?”

My nerves flared on edge. I had no control of the situation. Kenji crowded my senses—his citrus cologne swirled around my head over and over, his hard body molded into mine, those soft lips explored my neck, his breathing hummed with mine, and all I could see was that gorgeous face, begging me for my number.

What am I doing?

I freaked out and kneed him hard in his groin. He grunted. “Chikusho!” He stumbled back, holding his crotch with both hands. “Chikusho!”

I wasted no time asking him anything else, yanked open the door, and hurried away in a sort of oh-my-God-I-just-kneed-a-possible-gangster skip. In the hallway, his men exchanged uncomfortable glances but they didn’t make a move.

Where the hell is Zo? Damn it!

“Chikusho!” Kenji loudly shrieked behind me.

Shit. I should go back to get the recorder. What? No, dumb ass. Run!

Behind me, his men rushed into the office. I shifted my skip to a run, rounded the corner into the lounge, and scanned the area for Zo. My heart boomed in my ears. Tons of half-naked women gathered around many different men—some balding and wrinkled, others young and decorated in designer suits. A few glanced my way. One stuck his tongue out and wagged it in a circular motion. Another motioned for me to come to his lap.

“Nyomi?” Zo stepped out of an area that must’ve been a bathroom. I couldn’t think of what else it could be.

“Let’s go.” I hooked my arm around his and towed him along.

“What happened?”

“Hurry.”

“Fuck. What did you do?” Zo’s face turned a shade of red. “Did you say something disrespectful?”

“Nope. I didn’t exactly say anything.”

We scurried past two huge, black guards. I glanced over my shoulder. Besides chatting women and groping men, nobody was behind us. Kenji and his goons weren’t running after us.

Good.

“If you didn’t say anything disrespectful then why are we running out of here?” Zo pushed through the double doors. The cool night air hit my skin. I still didn’t let out a relieved breath, even as colorful light glittered on the buildings around me, and it appeared we might be safe.

“I kind of kneed him,” I said.

“What?” Shrieking, Zo targeted me with his gaze. “Kind of kneed him or kneed him?”

“Kneed him.”

“Fuck!” Zo raced away, holding my hand in a fierce grip and dragging me through the red-light district at a madman's pace.

Chapter 4

KENJI

Maybe I went too far.

Lightning seared my balls. The last time I’d been kneed I was in grade school and had punched the aggressor in the eye. The school didn’t expel me. Not one disciplinary action came my way. Everyone knew my family. They knew what would come and understood that my uncles maintained better memories than any other. Regardless, that didn’t stop the pain in my center from growing.

She said she would knee me, and she did. I’ll have to remember her threats are real.

I clutched myself like a bruised pervert. How sad that one American girl could do something that no other had ever executed.

She made me feel.

In this numb situation I called my life, emotions were prizes, to be guarded and reminisced upon. Most women remained predictable. I understood their next moves before the actions ever entered their brains.

Not this one. She surprised me.

I’d been right to name her tiger. She was my exact opposite—courageous in the face of evil, hopeful within darkness, and running away fast when it was time for her to be prey. I had no options for bravery.

How lucky you are, little one.

I did what I was told with bowed body and downtrodden eyes. Although bedridden, my father gripped the reins that surrounded my neck and refused to let go. I was my father’s avatar in all things that counted. My life transformed to his, my dreams only wisps of smoke, evaporating into gray skies.

And then I met this one.

Tora.

Her rich caramel skin enticed me. Her bold personality trapped my mind. She took pride in the fact that she'd made her father mad. Hot courage beat in her heart. If I had one ounce of her bravery, I wouldn’t have been in my present situation.

Naughty Tora. I’m intrigued by what’s inside you, but what’s on the outside trapped me immediately.

Her body was one of a sleek beast that longed to be stroked—harmonious and muscled where most women would be soft or firm. If I had to write a haiku on her frame alone, it wouldn’t be one compared to flowers or delicate things. Those three poetic lines would have claws and heat, deadly eyes and the promise of passion with the bite of scorching flames. Her lips had snared my attention. Those curves made my cock sit up in my pants. She had curls for days, long, slinky black ones that bobbed when she moved her head quickly to make a point. And she’d made several arguments to save her precious book.

She wants to write about Tokyo’s sex industry. What a dangerous topic, Little Tora.

To reveal my world would be to paint a huge target on her back. There was a reason why the red-light district didn’t maintain transparency. Yakuza ran my people, but only with traditions firmly in place. One of the biggest cultural influences was privacy. What the Japanese did within their secret walls could not have light shed upon it. Our people did not openly admit to engaging in such things—masturbation and fetishes, odd sexual titillation and prostitution.

It would be easier for her to write a book on the Yakuza!

A laugh escaped my parted lips as the pain in my groin subsided to sensual thumping. My Tora had done more than hurt my loins. She’d triggered excitement in my core.

Leaning against my desk, I looked up and spotted Jun stumbling into my office with a blank expression.

“What was her full name?” I asked.

Jun’s fat face tinted to pink. “Are you okay? I didn't know that she would act so out of control and hurt—”

“What is her name?”

“N-Nyomi Palmer.”

“Find out as much as you can about her, including where she is staying right now.”

I've always wanted to tangle with a tiger.

People called me Dragon. I’d earned the nickname through brute force. It was luck. My first kill was a pedophile that had been caught doing things to kids in my old neighborhood. I had to hurt him. With each picture of a dead child, the urge to destroy him rocked my core. Plus, father believed it was time to show his men that I’d finally replaced him, that I was truly the boss.