DRAWN (10 page)

“Uh, yeah.” Apart from wanting to gag my mom, I guess it’s all good.

State of the art is all I can think of to describe the Himuras’ kitchen when I join Yuki at the worktable. The Himuras’ “oven” is more like an oversized Mac, with more buttons than a TV remote control. There’s also a range of other equipment that makes me think of Morgan Freeman’s not-so-secret lab in Batman.

You got to hand it to the Japs. They always know how to make you feel caveman-primitive.

The kitchen’s walls are made of black marble tiles, all the cabinets have doors of shiny stainless steel, and all the workstations are immovable with their granite countertops. Everything seemed designed to withstand a…culinary robbery, I guess?

“She’s okay that you’re staying over for dinner?”

Seeing that he’s about to make salad, I take the newly washed Romaine lettuce and start hand-tearing it into strips. “Yeah. She’s not really the controlling type. She’s pretty cool, actually.”
Just a little nutty
, but I choose to keep that to myself out of family loyalty.

“Good.”

Yuki suddenly smiles.

I smile back at him.

“But first things first.”

          His innocent-sounding tone immediately puts my back up. By now, I know Yuki is anything
but
innocent. “What?”

          He washes his hands and wipes them dry with the dish towel hanging from one of the wall-mounted hooks, my gaze following his every move. Then he pulls something out of his pocket.

         
Bloody hell.

          Yuki smiles and dangles my underwear in front of me like a prize I have to catch. “I think it’s time I give this back to you.”

I try to snatch the tiny white scrap of lace out of his hold but he immediately raises his hand, effectively keeping it out of reach.

          “Unfair!” I try to jump for it, but it’s impossible.

          “I just want to help you wear it,
senpai
,” he says with his patented innocent smile.

          His words just make me blush harder. “NO!” I glare at him. “Over-my-dead-body no!”

          “A toy’s not supposed to say no,
senpai
,” he says laughingly.

          I keep jumping even though I know it’s impossible. “Will you just give it back?”

          “
Senpai
, I have to tell you that the more you jump, the more I see what
this
is supposed to hide.”

          I stop moving. Completely.

          Yuki grins. “Kidding,
senpai
.”

          “You---”

          “A compromise, senpai,” he says even as I sputter. “I’ll give it back if you let me help you wear it.”

          It’s the best offer I can get, and we both know it.

I gnash my teeth. It’s either that or hurl the nastiest English cuss words at him. “You really get off making me uncomfortable, don’t you?”

          “Yup.” He hunches down. “Now, be a good little toy and come closer,
senpai
.”

          My legs have suddenly turned to jelly as I take the few steps that will have me standing in front of him.

          I shakily place one hand on his shoulder, having to balance myself as I lift one leg at a time to step into my undies.

          Yuki is silent as he slowly pulls my underwear up.

          He doesn’t look, but I can feel his breath fanning my skin, blazing a path that runs all the way up to my thighs.

          I close my eyes, half in mortification, half in out-of-my-mind pleasure as a now-familiar throbbing sensation envelops my body.     

I sneak a look at Yuki as I feel my underwear snapping into place, just in time to catch him grimacing in absolute sexual pain. It’s my first time to see him like that and a giggle escapes me, my own tension partially relieved by the knowledge that Yuki’s just as affected as I am. Sometimes, I just really can’t tell.

Yuki’s head snaps up.

Oh, shite.

“Having fun,
senpai
?” His eyes aren’t gleaming now. It’s glittering, which is a bad sign, I think.

“N-now, Yuki---
aaah
!”

Yuki’s head has disappeared inside my shorter-than-short school skirt.

I bite my lip hard, every cell inside my body jumping in anticipation.

Then I feel it, a slight grazing that’s like his---teeth?

“Bloody---aah!” Yuki has bitten the inner side of my thighs, just a hairbreadth’s away from where my lace panty ends.

A millennium – or maybe it’s just a few seconds, it’s hard to say right now with my head absolutely reeling – later, Yuki’s head reappears and he looks up at me, his angel’s smile playing on his lips.

He’s so beautiful I want to draw his expression so I’ll never forget it.

“Like it,
senpai
?”

Bloody sod. His hands are still gently clasping my legs, which are trembling like a newborn baby’s. Of course I bloody like it.

“
Senpai
?”

“P…piss off.”

          Yuki straightens to his full height with a grin. “Want to help me with mine,
senpai
?”

          I stare at him in horror. “Umm…I…”

          Yuki laughs. “I’m just kidding.” He nods towards the oven. “The chicken may come out any moment. Can you take it out? I need a minute to change.”

          “Sure.”

          Chicken cordon bleu and Caesar salad on the side turns dinner into a delicious affair. As he hands me the dip for the chicken, Yuki asks me what my mom said earlier on the phone to make me mad.

“My mom wants to meet you,” I grumble.

Yuki blinks. “Ah.”

He looks so uncomfortable, I say quickly, “You don’t have to.” Actually, I don’t want him to. If he does, I’m willing to bet that the outcome would be something ridiculously embarrassing, for me.

“It’s not proper to refuse,” he tells me, but he sounds more like he’s talking to himself.

“Really, it’s no big deal.”

Yuki shakes his head. “It is – or at least it is in our side of the world.”

“Oh? Like, how serious?” Since this is his first time to speak anything about his background, I’m eager to hear more. Aside from having a professional interest in Japanese culture, I just want to know more about Yuki. He’s a lot more fascinating than I can ever be and I’m secretly bemused as to why he didn’t seem to have figured that out yet.

“If we were in Japan,” Yuki explains, “and I meet your parents, it usually means I’m your boyfriend.”

“And vice-versa?”

“Yup.”

I think about that for a moment. “Your mom…?”

“She’s Russian. She doesn’t count.”

I smile in relief.

Yuki raises a brow. “Should I be insulted you don’t want people to think you’re my girlfriend,
senpai
?”

“Oh, it’s not that,” I deny right away, aghast at what he’s thinking. He must think I’m all ego. No girl in her right mind would ever refuse to date a god. “It’s just…I wouldn’t want to complicate things, you know?”

Yuki gazes at me contemplatively, head propped up on one hand while he licks his spoon clean. “Complications, huh?”

“Uhh, yeah.” I try not to make it obvious I’m memorizing every little thing about his current pose. I am so going to draw this later, too.

His sudden smile is blinding. “That’s good,
senpai
. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Yuki drives me home an hour later, and I’m kinda down that he hasn’t kissed me, not even once, between dinner and the ride to my home.

He walks me to our front door. “I’ll text you if we can meet tomorrow, okay,
senpai
?”

I’m about to nod when I realize what tomorrow is. “Uhh…I don’t think I have time tomorrow.”

He raises a brow. “Oh?”

“I have something to do.”

“A date?”

I frown, his question reminding me about Lace’s text message, which I still haven’t replied to. “It’s not,” I say finally.

“Then what is it?”

I squeeze my eyes shut so that he won’t be able to use his baby blues to persuade me. “I have an…appointment with the dentist.”

“
Senpai
,” he says warningly.

“I just won’t make it to school tomorrow, okay?”

I open my eyes when he doesn’t speak.

Yuki’s lips are compressed in a thin line. “I don’t like being made a fool of.”

“And I’m not.” I shake my head impatiently. “I can
never
be as manipulative as you.”

“You’d be surprised,” he murmurs.

I don’t understand what that means and I don’t bother pretending I do. I shake my head again. “Whatever. Good night, Yuki. Thanks for the---” I really should have expected it, I really should, but I didn’t and – honestly – I’m sort of glad I didn’t.

Being caught unexpected by a kiss is just the best feeling, ever.

Yuki’s kiss is rougher than everything he’s given me, but not to the point that it hurts. It’s just
raw
and it becomes even more so as he holds my wrists down when I try to pull him close.

Yeeargh.

He’s so good at this.

Yuki pulls away. He’s not smiling, but I know he’s as, umm, happy as I am when I see the familiar gleam in his eyes.

“Good night,
senpai
.”

“Good night.” I stay there, watching him walk back to his car.

I catch my breath when he turns just as he reaches for his door handle. “Oh, and
senpai
?”

“Uhh, yeah?” Is he going to kiss me again? I totally want him to kiss me again.

“No more late-night videos, okay?”

It takes me a split second before I understand what he’s saying.

“Piss off,” I snarl.

He laughingly gets inside his car. “See you tomorrow,
senpai
.”

No, he won’t.

And that’s fine because it helps me put things in perspective.

The alarm clock cuts my wet dream short.

          Yeeargh!

          Bloody stupid alarm---

          I pale at the time.

          It’s seven-fifteen already?

I shower in a hurry, knowing I have minutes to spare if I want to make it to the meeting on time. I grab all my drawings, including the new ones I’ve worked on last night, and dump them into my tote bag as I dash out of my room.

Jace Stanford is already waiting when I rush out of the house. He’s leaning against the side of his silver Mercedes Benz convertible, dark hair gel-styled to perfection, designer sunglasses covering his gaze and dressed in his usual preppy outfit. Jace is not beautiful the way Yuki is, but he always looks like he’s stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. For Jace, catwalk-worthy clothes are his way of hiding the little-known fact he’s a true-blue geek at heart.

Jace makes a show of checking his watch.

“Oh, shut up.” I quickly get inside his car.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jace protests as he closes my door for me.

Over two and a half hours later, Jace and I agree that splitting the valet parking fee between us would be worth not having Shelley bite our heads off. What we didn’t count was the queues to the elevators.

“You have got to be---”

Jace grabs my hand and drags me to the fire exit. “Move your butt, Chariot!”

We get to Shelley Bram’s office just a few seconds shy of ten o’clock.

“We’re
not
late,” I say brightly, trying not to huff as I do. For my workout-challenged body, running all five flights of stairs to her office is an Olympic event.

“You cut it quite close, though.” She looks at the crystal clock on the wall pointedly.

“Actually,” Jace begins.

Shelley’s almost-black eyes narrow. “Sit.”

          Jace and I take the closest of the executive leather seats right away, backs straight and feet on the ground.

The boardroom of Shelley’s agency is expansive, with walls covered by stenciled wallpaper in cream complemented by a thick ivory carpet. Across the huge mahogany conference table, heavy red brocade curtains are drawn to the sides to reveal a small charming balcony and Miami’s panoramic cityscape.

Unfortunately, Jace and I never really get the time to enjoy the stunning views or even the plush surroundings. Shelley is our literary agent, which basically means she sells our works on commission. Whenever we attend industry events to rub elbows with who’s who in publishing, she likes to say that she’s like a mom to us. Maybe when she gets hitched, she’ll realize that moms don’t mean slave drivers.