“Not possible. No way you could improve upon perfection.”
“Wanna bet?”
He rolled away from her, leaning toward the nightstand closest to him. When he reclaimed his position next to her, he handed her a square velvet box. The kind of velvet box that usually housed expensive jewelry. The thought of what could be inside this box had cold fear spilling inside her. It was only the lifetime of keeping her emotions buried from the rest of the world that allowed her to school her features.
Suppressing the shudder that threatened to spread through her, Oshun turned to Masaki, hoping the look of expectancy he wore didn't mean what she feared.
“What is this?”
“I believe in English, the word you're looking for is…gift. Typically, you have to open it to see what's inside.”
Oshun sighed deeply and rolled her eyes.
“You know you're an asshole, right?”
He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “I know you have a pretty little asshole that I plan on burying myself in once we've both recovered from our last round.” He pointed to the still unopened box in her hand. “Stop stalling. Open it.”
She felt the puckered skin of her rosebud contract at his words, and a slight pulse of electricity zipped through her clit. It didn't matter how he wanted to have sex with her, her body was always excited by his propositions.
Stay focused, Oshun. This isn't the time.
She opened the box, afraid of what it held, and was slightly relieved when she saw two keys resting on the cushioned bed instead of an engagement ring.
“I'm confused,” she said with a shaky smile on her face. “What are these for?”
“They open my front door. This is my corny way of asking you to move in with me.”
“Mas.” The seriousness of her tone drained the light and easy atmosphere their lovemaking had created. She watched him tense up, pulling himself to a sitting position against the headboard.
“What, Oshun? You can save the “It's too soon” crap you're about to spew at me. We've spent nearly every day together over the last three months. You spend three to four nights a week sleeping in my bed, and the rest of the week I'm in yours. We already live together. All I'm asking is to make it official. So, if you're going to say no, at least don't insult my intelligence with a lie.”
And there it was again, the one topic that always seemed to shake whatever peace they found in each other's presence. Oshun closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. It was fast becoming her conditioned response whenever Masaki brought up the topic of commitment.
“Mas, us spending nights together is totally different than us moving in together. I can't do that.”
“You trying to tell me you're not there, you're not ready?”
She shook her head. Emotionally she was more than ready to make that commitment to him. Unfortunately, logic kept reminding her why it couldn’t be. Her life wouldn't allow for the type of connection Mas seemed to be pushing toward more and more.
“Mas, you're so special to me. You know that. But, I've told you from the beginning I wasn't looking for a relationship. My life doesn't allow for it.”
“What the fuck does that even mean, Oshun?”
He quickly swung his legs over the side of the bed, stalking to the dresser and rummaging for a pair of underwear inside. He stepped into a pair of black boxer briefs, and turned to her with his arms crossed against his chest. Standing there in the middle of the room, his full six-feet height seemed more ominous than usual.
The sharp slant of his eyes became more pronounced as his heavy gaze focused on her. His broad chest rose and fell in fast movements, his full-sleeve tattooed arms flexed with power, revealing carved, lean muscles. In that moment, she could see who he was so clearly. Japanese, strong, powerful, confident, and sexy as all fucking hell.
“You're a waitress at a club, Oshun. Single, with no kids, or dependents that I know of. I mean, that's about the simplest life I can imagine. What the hell is really holding you back?”
She cringed at the harshness in his voice. She’d led him to believe her life was simple. He could never know otherwise. Keeping that in mind, she didn't hold the insult he'd just hurled at her against him. She knew it came from a place of frustration. He was frustrated she kept pulling away from him. But more importantly, he was frustrated about not being able to understand her reasoning.
She shifted in the bed, pulling herself up against the headboard, and covered her exposed body with the sheet. When they were naked, Masaki controlled the scene. That was a fact she’d accepted with much difficulty. Gearing up to have what could prove to be their biggest argument to date, she needed to maintain what little power she could.
“It's like you said, “that you know of.” You don't know me, Masaki. And the truth is, I can't really afford to let you know me. I told you that night in the club I wasn't looking for forever. I wanted to have some fun, and that was all.”
He ran his fingers angrily through the tapered dark waves on his head, then dropped his hands to the cut vee of his hips.
“Are you fucking someone else? Is that what this is about, keeping your options open?”
