Chapter 3

Firestorm

The hotel wasn’t in a residential area and the street smelled of car exhaust from the evening commute— neither Akemi nor the man she’d come to visit were part of it. She adjusted the hem of her violet halter top—the one Mitchell always joked made him hard—while staring at the crumpled flyer in her hand. Mitchell liked running his hand along her bare back, playing at the fabric pulled taut, working his hand under it, undoing the tie there.

Mitchell had talked about Nelson for years. “The man who taught me everything,” he’d say, only half-joking, grinning after another tedious ESL lesson. But when Akemi met Nelson at the screening, she hadn’t expected this—the way his fingers lingered on hers when he handed her the flyer, or the slow, deliberate way his eyes traced the curve of her spine as she pretended not to notice.

Now, standing outside his hotel room, she hesitated only a second before knocking. She thought of running away, but the door swung open before her knuckles could connect a third time. Nelson leaned against the frame, sleeves rolled up, a pencil tucked behind his ear. He’d been working on remarks he’d give at the screening that night.

“You’re here.” His voice was quieter than she remembered. He wasn’t young.

“You’re busy.”

“Come in,” he said, faking annoyance at her behavior—coming and then not wanting to stay. She should make up her mind, his irritated laugh said. It was true he didn’t have much time for distractions. His schedule was busy on the four-day film tour. But for this, he’d make time.

Akemi stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind her. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Nelson smirked, tossing the pencil onto the dresser. “No. You really shouldn’t.”

The first kiss was a revelation—his hands gripping her hips, hers clawing at the back of his shirt. She tasted tea and something reckless, something hungry. His mouth moved to her collarbone, teeth scraping skin as she gasped.

It was herbal tea, grass extract or something. Along with his artwork, Nelson was an advocate of healthy living, a sort of guru of the benefits, spiritual and otherwise, of a natural lifestyle—including sex, no doubt. All that hadn’t interested Akemi.

“You’re really on fire,” he laughed, loosening the halter top. Untying it in back took a moment. He couldn’t see the knot or what his hands were doing. The sequined light-purple fabric clung for a moment before falling, leaving her bare except for the jeans Mitchell had said more than once were his favorites.

She dropped to her knees before he could stop her, fingers working his belt with a hunger she’d forgotten. The moment his cock sprang free, she took him into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks as he groaned. He was thicker than Mitchell, hotter, the pulse of him urgent against her tongue. Nelson cursed, twisting a hand in her hair as she sucked him deeper, gurgling in a way that made his thighs tense.