Grounded (Up in the Air #3)(90)

We thanked him and began to wander that way. James had an arm wrapped around my waist, holding me close, uncaring of the heat and humidity.

“We’ll have to do the fish market tomorrow morning,” James said. “It’s worth it. Best sushi in the world.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the time of the day, or the day of the week, but the lovely gardens were nearly deserted, only the occasional painter capturing one of the park’s landmarks visible. The beauty of the well-maintained gardens stood in stark contrast to the skyscrapers of the adjacent Shiodome district. We circled the large park leisurely, stopping often to enjoy views of the scenic garden, and the waters of the bay beside it.

“Let me know if you see something that you just have to paint,” James told me, as we passed another artist. “I can have supplies brought right away, if you’re so inclined. This place seems to inspire artists.”

I smiled at him, loving that he tried so hard to understand me. I had just been thinking that I’d like to spend a morning painting here.

“You’re so sweet,” I told him.

He smiled, and it was as un-sweet as it could be. “I was just plotting where I would f**k you here. You have strange ideas about sweet.”

I laughed. I had a feeling that seeing the world with James would give me strange ideas about a lot of things. “How do you propose we do that?”

His eyes smoldered at me. “You let me worry about that. There’s a teahouse set on a tiny island in the center of the gardens. How would you like to attend a traditional Japanese tea ceremony?”

I was delighted by the idea. “I’d love nothing more. Except perhaps your other plans.”

He winked at me, giving me a roguish smile. “There’s no reason we can’t do both.”

The teahouse was quaint but I found it incredibly beautiful, the open windows with a view of the gardens like a frame for a perfect picture. We sat cross-legged on a tan bamboo mat while an ageless looking Japanese woman went through the painstaking and elegant ritual. I watched with rapt attention, fascinated with every detail, because every detail was so perfectly orchestrated. The simplest motions became art as the practiced woman moved fluidly through the ritual, the arms of her light pink kimono barely rippling as her arms moved.

James bowed low to her when she presented him with his tea, spouting off a fluent stream of Japanese that I couldn’t begin to follow, but he was obviously praising her.

I felt a completely unreasonable wave of jealousy. I tamped it down, knowing that it was insane. But his praise directed at anyone but myself made me feel covetous of it.

The woman flushed at his praise, making her pale beauty even more pronounced.

I bowed low to her as she presented the tea to me, stumbling over my Japanese thank you. The woman was the epitome of grace, which made me feel a little clumsy just looking at her.

The woman left us alone after the drawn-out ritual was over, giving us the teahouse to ourselves. I knew that deferential privacy was the James Cavendish effect.

I gave James a sidelong look, still sipping my tea. He was watching me, and the look on his face made me squirm. He wore a slight smile, but his eyes had gone full on Dom.

“It made you jealous, just having me watch her do the tea ceremony, didn’t it? You’re that possessive of my affections now.”

I wrinkled my nose, wishing that he couldn’t read me quite so well. It was embarrassing to me that he knew just how unreasonably jealous I could be. I nodded. There was no point in hiding it, since he’d seen it clearly.

“She’s beautiful, and you were fascinated by her,” I said, as though I couldn’t hold the words in. “Did you want her?” I asked, knowing it was a stupid question. I didn’t want to know if he did, and I didn’t want him to lie, so it was just masochistic to ask.

His eyes softened just a tad. “No, Love. The thought didn’t even cross my mind. It did occur to me, though, that I would love for you to learn to do that. The thought of you serving me with such restraint is intoxicating…”

“I could never do it like her. She’s perfect.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth just so. “I wouldn’t want you to do it like her. I’d want you to do it like yourself. What do you say? Would you like a kimono and some tea ceremony lessons?”

I nodded with no hesitation. “I’d love that.”

He smiled, reaching a hand up to cup the back of my head. He moved into me. “We’ll devote a morning to it, then.”

He kissed me, then pushed me to the floor, moving roughly on top of me. He ground his hard erection into me, still fully clothed, while he ravished my mouth. He showed none of his finesse as he gripped my hips and moved against me, biting hard on my lower lip. It was as though he wanted to be as savage as possible, a perfect contrast to our refined surroundings.

He pulled away, sitting up to watch me. His pretty mouth was a little mean as he smiled at me, running a hand through his hair.

“Stand up and take off your clothes. Every scrap,” Mr. Cavendish told me.

I glanced around, a little shocked at the prospect, when I should be far beyond the point of shocking. Perhaps it was the perfect manners of everyone we’d run into, but it seemed a little wrong to do something so crass in the serene teahouse. Plus, there were open windows everywhere, and a good chance that we would be seen or heard.