No Ordinary Love by Kenya Wright Page B

He participated in a FIFA World Cup tournament and in the Olympics. However, the best part of my internet search was discovering the Calvin Klein underwear ad campaign he did three years ago. Kenji wasn’t huge, but like I assumed, sculpted muscles layered his abs and chest. His thighs swelled with strength. The black boxer briefs he wore could barely hide the bulge tucked within. Upon seeing those pictures, I’d made the hot photo my screen saver and drooled over it the rest of the night.
    Regardless, Kenji’s retirement had been five years ago, making him thirty. He looked youthful, but his eyes held an old understanding that only a rough life could bring.
    What happened to make your eyes look so dark? In the ads and soccer pictures they’d been bright and hopeful.
    “Tora, did you find out who I am?”
    The word “Dragon” sat on the tip of my tongue, but Zo had forbid me to speak it in front of Kenji.
    “Yes. I did my research.” I flicked my thumb against my index finger over and over. “I know who you are.”
    “Good.” He stayed behind me.
    Tensing, I continued to face forward, unable to get enough courage to turn around. For some reason, he just knocked me out of my game and placed us on a new playing field, one I was unprepared for. Still behind me, he captured my waist with both hands and did nothing else. My nerves flared. What is he doing? Will I have to knee this crazy man again? Before I could ask him myself, he loudly inhaled and groaned. My insides melted from the sound.
    “You’re like an enchantress. Everything about you makes my body react.” He released my waist and got in front of me. “How long will you be in Tokyo?”
    “Three and a half weeks.”
    “That’s not enough time.”
    I leaned my head to the side. “For what?”
    “For everything I want to do to you.” His gaze journeyed all over me. There was no place untouched.
    My pulse sped up. “I’m—”
    “In your letter you said that you would meet me tonight, but not for a date. Let’s make one thing clear right now.” He seized my waist again and molded his body against mine. “This is a date, Little Tora. On this subject, there won’t be any compromises.”
    I opened my mouth to speak. He leaned in for a kiss, dipped his tongue between my lips, and enveloped me with his presence—his fingers massaging my waist, his tongue playing with mine, that citrus scent pouring over me, and the taste of ginger candy on his tongue. Mmmm. He swallowed my whimper of pleasure, slipped those hands over the curve of my behind, and gently squeezed. I couldn’t think or see, escape or control my hormones. All I could do was hold on for the ride.
    When he pulled back, he whispered, “Stay for two months at least.”
    Holy fuck! Did I just kiss him?
    “No.” I blinked a few times, gaining control of myself. “I’m only going to be here until the end of the month. No longer.” I stepped back. “And don't ever kiss me like that again, unless you'd like to date my knee.”
    That made him laugh, instead of jump back and flee.
    “I'm sorry. I'll behave.” He held his hands up, but I got the feeling that it was more to mock me. “Consider extending your trip, please. Don’t give me an answer now. Just think about it. I like you.”
    “You don’t even know me.”
    “I will.” He left me there flabbergasted, went to my chair, and pulled it out for me. “Please, sit down. I want to talk about this compromise with touching. Good idea.”
    “Wait.” I waved my hand. “It’s not a compromise on touching. I didn’t say that in my letter. I said a compromise on going to other soaplands.”
    “You won’t go to any other soaplands.” Chuckling, he tapped the chair. “Please, sit.”
    “Look. I came to Tokyo to write a book about the underground sex industry.” I sat down and he tucked me in, more like a dad would to his kid than a gentleman to his lover. “How am I going to do that if you’re banning me from the red-light