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down toward her. Nadia smirked, a brief moment before he kissed her.
    The kiss was gentle, his hands brushed her face softly, cupping her cheeks and bringing her closer to him. She pressed herself impatiently into the significant curve of his torso—hard and firm. He worked out, she could tell. His tongue broke through her lips the same way he‟d managed to get through her emotional walls—slowly, seductively and with such skill, she didn‟t realize he‟d breached her lips until her tongue bumped his.
    Moaning in regret as he broke their kiss, Nadia understood how he‟d made her walls came down. “Thank you for sharing,” she said with a small smile.
    Zen smiled too. “You are welcome. Though the pleasure is all mine.” He stepped back from her. “I do not want to get this on you.”
    “You want to clean up? You can shower here, if you want. I have a large tee-shirt that will fit you.
    We may be able to save the shirt if we get it in the wash.”
    She didn‟t know why she said that, but Zen nodded, and with swift fingers unbuttoned his shirt.
    He stripped out it.
    “If you would not mind, I do not want to be an inconvenience,” he said.
    Nadia heard him speak, but she couldn‟t respond right away. Her mind had short-circuited in view of Zen‟s lithe arms and torso. The ivory tee-shirt fit him like a second skin. The cotton material skimmed over stone hard biceps, down to rock hard pectorals, and slipped over the six-pack abdomen. Pebbled nipples poke through the material and Nadia wanted to reach out and pinch them. With his hair free, slightly tousled, and dressed only in a tight tee-shirt and black dress pants only, Zen set the pulse in her throat to racing.
    She blinked and took the shirt without responding. Hurrying to the laundry room, she started the gentle cycle and splashed a special treatment on the wine stains on the shirt. Behind her Zen‟s body heat mingled with her own.
    When his lips brushed her earlobe, Nadia‟s nipples tightened. His hands skated around her waist, and laced together in the front. He nibbled on her ear and she threw her head back in ecstasy. She pushed her ass back into him, and in response, Zen pushed forward. The thick and very hard phallus hinted at the pleasure he silently promised to give her rubbing against her bottom.
    “Yes,” she moaned.
    She shut the washing machine, and hoisted herself on top of it, forcing Zen to release his hold on her. On the washer, she hitched her skirt up to her thighs, scooted forward, and reached for him again. He came forward, and wrapped his arms around her again. He kissed her. Nadia wound her hand into his thick hair. She arched her back, and wrapped her other hand around his tee-shirt.
    The kiss deepened and her pussy quivered in need. Too long, she‟d been without a man, but what made her glisten with want rested in the man she wanted to love. Him. Zen. She wanted to know what it felt to be completely intertwined with the man of her fantasies.
    Despite his family‟s disapproval, Zen still was here, in her house, and she in his arms. That spoke to more than a passing curiosity. This man wanted her, and she, she wanted him too.
    So many surprises revealed this night. She awaited his other surprises with baited breath.
    ***
    Nadia smelled like soy and fish. In fact, the hints of shea butter only added to the strong feeling of home. His mother had been a dishwasher at a restaurant in Japan and she used shea butter for her extremely dry hands. The combination of all the things of his youth, sushi, sake, and shea butter reminded him of home. Nadia was home. The worldly buzz faded when she smiled at him or when the smokiness in her eyes centered him. She tasted like everything he loved about Japanese cuisine. He pulled back from the kiss.
    Now that he had kissed her, had tasted her flavor, Nadia‟s passion rushed out—like uncorking a bottle of red wine with a pop. He loved it and he wanted to drink it all in.
    He slowly unbuttoned her