But he was already staring at the computer screen again, dismissing her as easily as if she’d been a one-night stand.
Of which he probably had many, she thought. And she wasn’t going to be one of them. She wasn’t into masochism, and a night in bed with Reno wouldn’t be something she could just shrug off. Not to mention the family repercussions.
He was a snake. And she wasn’t getting anywhere near him again if she could help it. He could save her life, though why he felt it was his responsibility was beyond her, and then she wouldn’t have to see him again. Or at least, not until Summer and Taka had babies, and even then she could probably avoid him, given his dislike of American women.
The outfit was even worse than she’d imagined. First, a black lace thong that she was tempted to ignore. White, lace-trimmed bloomers. Fishnet stockings with a black lace garter belt. Billowing black skirts trimmed with lace, a corset and fingerless black lace gloves, charmingly accented with a little apron and a bonnet. She looked like a deranged French maid crossed with Morticia Addams. The shoes were the final touch.
“I’m not wearing them,” she said, storming out of the bathroom in her new rig, still in bare feet.
He didn’t bother to turn around. “They’re the only clothes Kyo could come up with. Don’t tell me they don’t fit.”
“The clothes fit. So do the shoes, but I’m not wearing them. They’re four-inch platform heels—if I don’t fall over and kill myself, I’ll still look like a basketball player.”
He turned then, his eyes drifting down over her absurd body. There was way too much leg showing, with the garters and the fishnet and the bloomers peeking out from beneath the ruffles, and the corset made her boobs look distressingly prominent. She stuck out her chin, just daring him to laugh.
He was wise enough not to. The corner of his mouth jerked for a second, in the faintest beginning of a smile, but he managed to look somber. “Maybe I can find some sandals,” he said. “Won’t go with the outfit, though.”
“I’m not that interested in accessorizing right now. I just need something I can walk in. And how the hell did your friend find shoes like that in my size? I have big feet.”
“Where I found the clothes. In a shop made for josohumisha.”
“What?” she echoed.
“Cross-dressers,” he said. “I thought if we put enough makeup on you you could pass for a man.”
She threw the shoes at him. He caught one before it hit his head, the other knocked his picture off the shelf. He rose, slowly, moving toward her with sinuous menace, and if Jilly had been any kind of coward, she would have backed up.
“I told you not to hit me again,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.
She wasn’t going to react. “I didn’t hit you. You caught it.”
“The intent was there.”
Okay, so she took a step back. A couple, as a matter of fact. But he just kept on coming, and the studio apartment was very small, and he was very big and there was nowhere to run.
She ended up against the wall, trapped, and he put his hands on either side of her, keeping her there. “Don’t tempt me,” he said in a low growl.
But she was tired of being bullied. “Go ahead and strangle me if you want to so damned badly.”
There was an odd light in his eyes as they looked into hers, and she realized he’d taken out his contacts. She was looking into dark brown eyes, with no artifice between them. “That’s not what you’re tempting me to do, Ji-chan,” he said.
He brought his body up against hers, hip to hip, belly to belly, his hard chest against her corseted torso, and it was like a strange, hot embrace, with his hands still against the wall, trapping her there. She looked into his eyes, hoping he thought she was fearless, but she could feel her mouth tremble slightly, and she couldn’t keep it still.
Her heart was pounding, as well, hard and fast. And she could feel his heart, hard and fast, too, and she wondered what the hell was going on.
And then he kissed her.
12
It wasn’t the kind of kiss she’d expected. For two years she’d thought about what it would be like to kiss Reno, for two years she’d imagined something out of a romance novel.
The reality was a shock. His open mouth covered hers, and he slowly, deliberately, ground his pelvis against her.
They were the same height. She could feel the explicit bulge of him through his pants, through the layers of her petticoats, and his mouth was hard, almost brutal. He was kissing her as if he hated her, and she put up her hands and shoved, hard.
He was immovable. He lifted his head, though, and her mouth felt bruised, swollen.
“Why are you kissing me?” Her voice was husky, and she could feel inexplicable tears form in her eyes. She blinked them away, angry.