“I need to use it,” she said, her voice grim.
“Then do what I tell you.”
She was having to spend far too much time doing what he told her to do, but now was no time for a mutiny. She wasn’t used to being ordered around—she’d been living on her own in an adult world for so many years because of her freakish mind, and she’d never liked being told what to do.
The building was square and anonymous, and while she’d managed to become conversational in Japanese in record time, she’d barely attempted to learn kanji. That would take years of study, even for her usually lightning-fast brain. They were in luck—the only person they passed heading down the narrow hallway was someone so blind drunk she could have been wearing a prom dress and he wouldn’t have noticed.
It looked like some science-fiction beehive. Reno stopped before one column of capsules and slid the door up, exposing a small, narrow bed. There was a light overhead, a small shelf and what looked like a TV screen set into the wall.
“All the comforts of home,” she said.
“Climb in.”
Not that she had any choice. She could hear the faint snores from the capsules surrounding hers, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t wake up. She climbed up into the capsule, stretching out.
A moment later he followed her.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked. Or tried to. He slammed his hand over her mouth to silence her, and his face was next to hers, his body plastered full-length against hers in the tiny space.
“You didn’t think I was going to let you go anywhere alone, did you? You would have had more room in a love hotel, but you were too squeamish, so this is what you get, with me included. At least it’s too small to do much more than sleep, even if you’re feeling kinky. And you don’t strike me as the kinky sort.”
There was nothing she could say. For one thing, his hand still covered her mouth, silencing her. For another, she felt assaulted, overwhelmed by his presence in the tiny capsule, his long legs against hers, his chest too close, his mouth…his mouth…“Are you going to behave?” he asked, his voice silken.
After a moment she nodded, glaring at him, and he moved his hand. “Smart girl,” he said.
She wasn’t feeling particularly smart at that moment. She was feeling trapped, claustrophobic, hot and turned on, much as she hated to admit it. And there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it.
“You can take off my jacket now,” he said.
“I’m not taking anything else off.”
He ignored her. She tried to move far enough away from him to reach the zipper, but the plastic wall was right there, he was crammed in front of her, and in order to get her hand up she would have to jab him with her elbow.
Which seemed like a good idea. He must have been expecting it, because he didn’t flinch, annoying her further. She unzipped the jacket, trying to wiggle out of it, but wiggling against Reno’s hard, hot body was a big mistake, and she froze, the jacket half on and half off.
He put his hands on her. Or course he would, pushing the jacket down her arms and off her, tossing it toward their feet. Before she realized what he was doing he’d caught the hem of her sweatshirt and began pulling that off, too, and fighting it would only bring him closer. At this point he was going to do what he wanted—skinny though he was, he seemed huge in the narrow plastic coffin and far too strong. The space was made for an average-size Japanese man, not for two people almost six feet tall.
She let the sweatshirt go the way of the jacket, waiting for him to just try touching the fly of her jeans, but he seemed to have stripped her enough. Another disheartening reminder of just how resistible she was.
He managed to sit up in the cramped space, barely, and looked at her. “Do you need to use the toilet? I’ll stand guard for you.”
It wasn’t as if she could tell him no. She nodded, and he slid out of the capsule with annoying grace, holding up a hand to stop her while he checked the corridor. Then he nodded, and she slid after him.
The toilet room was neat and utilitarian, with dividers between each urinal. Japanese men must be more modest than Western men. And she was not going to think about that.
She slipped into the stall and shut the door behind her, doing her business quickly. Listening with annoyance as Reno calmly did the same in the outer room.
He was leaning in the open doorway, waiting for her when she finally emerged. He gave her enough time to wash her hands before he hustled her back to the capsule, and to her relief he didn’t immediately follow her into the cramped space.
“I’ll be right back,”
he said, pulling the shade down after her.
She let out her pent-up breath. Maybe he wasn’t really planning to sleep with her—it would be just like him to torment her like that when he’d already secured his own capsule. Asshole. She leaned back against the plastic wall, closing her eyes, trying to make the stress wash away from her. It encased her like a straightjacket.
The door slid up again, and Reno tossed something toward her. A thin cotton outfit that looked like a cross between surgeon’s scrubs and baby doll pajamas. “Put it on.”
He didn’t give her time to argue, sliding the door down again. She considered arguing, then began unbuttoning her shirt.