Wasabi Heat (4 page)

It all unfolded in slow motion, but his logical mind knew and understood it happened much faster. He shifted to shield Nadia before Asuka could attack.

She threw the glass in Nadia‟s direction, but it caught him instead. “Uncle!” Asuka shrieked. “No!”

Nadia flinched as droplets sprayed in her direction. “What the hell?”

The cold wine saturated his shirt, but Zen didn‟t really feel it. His anger had fired too hot for him to feel anything.

“How dare you?” he said firmly. He didn‟t yell because customers remained in the lobby. Thankfully, Asuka had done this close to the front of the now closed restaurant, and not further back where the customers could see. “Are you insane?”

Asuka‟s face showed a mix of shock and horror. “I meant it for her! That black trash!”

Beside him, Nadia‟s usually soft voice, hardened. “Trash? Who the hell are you calling trash?” “You are the only black person here.”

“Apologize, Asuka!” Zen barked.

“She is not one of us!” Asuka spat, chest heaving, glass still clutched in her hand. “This is wrong!” “You bring great dishonor on us,” Zen said, stopping Nadia‟s halt forward by using his arm to stop

her.

“It is
you
who bring dishonor onto us!” Asuka shrieked.

Zen did not want to argue with her. Clearly the girl had lost all control of her emotions and airing her hatred did nothing but dishonor them.

“I listen to my heart and it is my only compass,” he said gently. Angry at her possible attack, he wanted to slap his niece into next week, but he did not want to frighten Nadia or his remaining customers.

“Then you are misled!”

“Enough!” came the sharp rebuke in Japanese from the rear of the register banks.

The sharp corners of his cold grin pinched a little at Ichiro‟s voice. He studied Asuka‟s face that shone from the fall of her tousled hair. His niece‟s wild eyes faded into the deep scowl of disapproval. Asuka‟s outraged spewed from a depth of self-hatred.

“You have disrespected me for the last time,” Zen said. His suit did not matter nearly as much as Nadia‟s most unhappy face. That made him even more furious. “You shame me and your father.”

“I think you‟re made a huge mistake in dating her!” Asuka barked, shaking her finger at Nadia. “Listen,” Nadia said, rounding with her finger pointed and quickly becoming a fist. “You don‟t

know me. This isn‟t any of your damn business.”

“Apologize to her,” Zen ordered Asuka. “I am not asking you.” “No,” Asuka said. She crossed her arms in a huff.

Nadia laughed, but it sounded bitter as dried leaves. “All the times I tipped you extra, beyond the typical 10 percent. That‟s one damn color your ass likes—green.”

Zen pulled Nadia close to him, careful to avoid the wine stain on the left side of his torso. He squeezed her close to him, leaned down and said, “Please wait for me outside. I will but a few minutes more.”

Nadia gave him the cutest look, very feisty and bold—like wasabi. He knew then that her answer would not be
yes.
Somehow her refusal to run, to face the ugliness that Asuka presented, made him fall more in love with her.

“I‟m going to hear everything she‟s got to say,” Nadia said. “No matter how ugly.”

“She is finished bringing dishonor to me and her family,” Zen said coolly. To Ichiro, he said, “Ask Terri and Merci to close tonight in Asuka‟s place. I will meet with them tomorrow at eleven to discuss their promotions and new responsibility.”

“Merci and Terri aren‟t Japanese!” Asuka cried, tugging on her hair in rage. “I‟m ready,” Nadia said.

Zen nodded, turning away from Asuka. She had come very close to ruining his happiness. He met Ichiro‟s eyes. “She is finished tonight. She shames you and your house.”

“I see.” Ichiro said gravely and bowed. “It will be done.”

Zen put his hand on the small of Nadia‟s back, leaving his anger at Asuka behind. Nadia, with her head high, walked beside him. She did not back down or follow business, drank sake and ate sushi as much as he did, and Nadia even liked karaoke. Superficial on the surface, yes, but a basis and foundation

to build something more. He and Nadia had a bud. The beginning of a beautiful flower, earth, and seed intertwined.

Nadia‟s rich earthiness and his seed. He mentally pictured their life together, as it should be. He grinned.

As it should be.

“Follow me,” he said softly. He guided her to the tank. His large ebony Cadillac Escalade. “This is yours?” she asked, awe making her voice barely a whisper.

“Yes,” he replied, allowing the rush of pride to show in his tone. It had not been boastful or even him trying to impress her that he had the vehicle. He liked traveling in style and in comfort. In Japan, everything is so small and compact. He liked Nadia‟s response to it and it pleasured him that she liked it.

“It‟s gorgeous!” she exclaimed.

Zen opened the passenger door. “Not nearly as gorgeous as you, Nadia-san.” Nadia stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

Her warm words brushed his face, as she stepped on the ledge to climb into the vehicle. It made his already weeping phallus stir. Gracefully, she slid into the supple leather seat. He watched her smooth cocoa legs cross seductively. Zen wanted to rub his hands along her curvy legs. He even pictured his lips tasting her skin. Would she cry out? Grab his shoulders? Beg for more?

Nadia caught his look. “I‟m glad you approve.”

With his heart buoying in his chest, Zen shut her door and hurried to the driver‟s side, and he got in and started the SUV. He tossed his jacket to the backseats. Backing out of the spot, he glimpsed the restaurant‟s sign wink out and the last patrons spilled out of the front door.

“Will my car be okay?” Nadia asked from the interior shadows.

“Are you kidding? After what Asuka said and did Ichiro will not allow her to mess with your vehicle.”

Nadia smiled, highlighted by the streetlights shining in through the window. Outside the evening went by in a blur, a whirlwind of colors, sounds, and scents. Zen inhaled and all he could smell was her. She had been the song playing in the background of his subconscious for months. Now, Nadia turned up now—louder and more beautiful.

“I am sorry for Asuka‟s behavior.”

“I don‟t get her,” Nadia said, relaxing into the seat. “She called me Nadia-san, which means friend, right?”

“Yes.”

“But she hates me.”

“She does not hate you. She hates that you are not Japanese,” Zen said quietly. “I do not care what she or my brother thinks or believes. I meant what I said before. My heart is my compass, and it points to you, Nadia.”

“Does it?” she asked, her voice husky. “How long, Zen?”

“Since our first lunch meeting in May,” he confessed. Idling in the parking lot outside Wasabi Sushi, Zen‟s knuckles curved around the steering wheel.

Nadia gasped. “It‟s October.”

“Yes.” He swallowed. Hopefully she did not think him a stalker or worse. “I was enchanted by you from that meeting. I got to know you more and what I saw intrigued me.”

“Intrigued,” she said. “I‟ve been called a lot of things, but intriguing, never.”

He smiled. “Where would you like to go? There is a great wine bar downtown. It is quiet.” Nadia ran her hand through her hair, and leaned back into the seat. “I have wine at my house.” Zen grew still. “Nadia…”

“Make a right here, and head down toward downtown.”

He did as she said with his heart thundering in his chest. She reached for his right hand, and intertwined their hands together. Her touch, soft, warm, and tender, rendered him speechless. Japanese women he had dated prior were often coy and cold. Not so with Nadia. She wanted him too. No words were needed to tell him.

Her actions more than told him, he was not the only one intrigued.

“
It doesn't bud if you don't seed
.”

--Japanese Proverb

Nadia‟s fingers kept trembling as she tried to get her key into the lock of her front door. Her condo‟s short porch forced Zen to stand a breath behind her. Not that she minded his closeness, she didn‟t. With every breath, she inhaled his scent, something masculine with hints of sushi. She liked sushi and she liked him.

The wind began to play with her stray locks of hair. She tucked them behind her ears and blew out the nervousness. It rained around them, but the tiny square porch only gave so much protection.

Finally! The door opened and she turned the knob. The rush of vanilla and juniper rushed forward and she grinned, almost as an involuntary impulse. She dropped her Coach® purse on the entranceway mahogany bureau.

“This is it. My casa,” Nadia said. Sharing her home with Zen filled her with both anxiety and pleasure. She wanted to know what he thought, but she also fretted about what he would think about her Japanese décor.

She turned on one of the Japanese paper lanterns.

“Wow,” Zen said. He appeared to take in everything. “This—this is fantastic. I love the doors.”

Nadia blushed. She had traditional Japanese Shoji doors and curtains installed. The color scheme of red, black, and white had been carried through every room of the condo. Zen walked around the room, seemingly lost in the artifacts she‟d accumulated over the years.

She relaxed when he turned to her, his eyes bright with approval—and lust.

He stood just shy of touching her, and said, “Your home is beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with me. I would like to share something with you.”

His thick wave of ebony hair fell forward as he bent down toward her. Nadia smirked, a brief moment before he kissed her.

The kiss was gentle, his hands brushed her face softly, cupping her cheeks and bringing her closer to him. She pressed herself impatiently into the significant curve of his torso—hard and firm. He worked out, she could tell. His tongue broke through her lips the same way he‟d managed to get through her emotional walls—slowly, seductively and with such skill, she didn‟t realize he‟d breached her lips until her tongue bumped his.

Moaning in regret as he broke their kiss, Nadia understood how he‟d made her walls came down. “Thank you for sharing,” she said with a small smile.

Zen smiled too. “You are welcome. Though the pleasure is all mine.” He stepped back from her. “I do not want to get this on you.”

“You want to clean up? You can shower here, if you want. I have a large tee-shirt that will fit you.

We may be able to save the shirt if we get it in the wash.”

She didn‟t know why she said that, but Zen nodded, and with swift fingers unbuttoned his shirt.

He stripped out it.

“If you would not mind, I do not want to be an inconvenience,” he said.

Nadia heard him speak, but she couldn‟t respond right away. Her mind had short-circuited in view of Zen‟s lithe arms and torso. The ivory tee-shirt fit him like a second skin. The cotton material skimmed over stone hard biceps, down to rock hard pectorals, and slipped over the six-pack abdomen. Pebbled nipples poke through the material and Nadia wanted to reach out and pinch them. With his hair free, slightly tousled, and dressed only in a tight tee-shirt and black dress pants only, Zen set the pulse in her throat to racing.

She blinked and took the shirt without responding. Hurrying to the laundry room, she started the gentle cycle and splashed a special treatment on the wine stains on the shirt. Behind her Zen‟s body heat mingled with her own.

When his lips brushed her earlobe, Nadia‟s nipples tightened. His hands skated around her waist, and laced together in the front. He nibbled on her ear and she threw her head back in ecstasy. She pushed her ass back into him, and in response, Zen pushed forward. The thick and very hard phallus hinted at the pleasure he silently promised to give her rubbing against her bottom.

“Yes,” she moaned.

She shut the washing machine, and hoisted herself on top of it, forcing Zen to release his hold on her. On the washer, she hitched her skirt up to her thighs, scooted forward, and reached for him again. He came forward, and wrapped his arms around her again. He kissed her. Nadia wound her hand into his thick hair. She arched her back, and wrapped her other hand around his tee-shirt.

The kiss deepened and her pussy quivered in need. Too long, she‟d been without a man, but what made her glisten with want rested in the man she wanted to love. Him. Zen. She wanted to know what it felt to be completely intertwined with the man of her fantasies.

Despite his family‟s disapproval, Zen still was here, in her house, and she in his arms. That spoke to more than a passing curiosity. This man wanted her, and she, she wanted him too.

So many surprises revealed this night. She awaited his other surprises with baited breath.

***

Nadia smelled like soy and fish. In fact, the hints of shea butter only added to the strong feeling of home. His mother had been a dishwasher at a restaurant in Japan and she used shea butter for her extremely dry hands. The combination of all the things of his youth, sushi, sake, and shea butter reminded him of home. Nadia was
home.
The worldly buzz faded when she smiled at him or when the smokiness in her eyes centered him. She tasted like everything he loved about Japanese cuisine. He pulled back from the kiss.

Now that he had kissed her, had tasted her flavor, Nadia‟s passion rushed out—like uncorking a bottle of red wine with a pop. He loved it and he wanted to drink it all in.

He slowly unbuttoned her blouse. She shrugged out of it, revealing the sleek black lace bra that barely contained her diamond hard nipples. If she only knew how wonderful she looked, her eyes glazed in passion, her skin glowing from his kisses, and her lips parted as she panted. He had been given a gift.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against her throat. “Stop saying that,” she groaned. “You have me, Zen.”

“My English is not great,” he said and planted a kiss on her throat. “I do not know another word that expresses what I feel.”

“This is good enough,” she said, and thrust her breasts forward. “Kiss my nipples.”

Zen‟s thumbs swept over her hardened nipples beneath the lace. Nadia hissed in pleasure. He inclined his head and blew heat on her peaks. She shuddered. But when he wrapped his mouth around the delightful buds, she shrieked. It made his cock bob in agreement. Seated on the washing machine, Nadia was eye level with him. He reached behind her, and freed her breasts from the bra. Cupping one of them, he palmed one and nibbled on the other.