Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 7

man come to be connected with one as vile as Barrett? When he'd agreed to meet with Barrett's emissary, he thought Barrett would send someone as disgusting and ignorant as himself, not a young beauty who seemed almost desperate to show respect.
    However, he suspected there was more to Addison than what appeared. The lovely surface could be meant as a distraction, and the secrets Addison had could be deadly, but he was willing to take the risk. It was likely the only way he'd uncover further schemes from Barrett. And more than that, he wanted Addison.
    Kazuhiro took a deep breath, his voice leaving him in a low rumble. "Jonathon." He tested the name on his tongue. Addison had requested he call him by his given name. He refrained, as it seemed too intimate, especially in front of his men. He knew, though, Westerners were often more casual in such regards. It was a mark of trust, of friendship, to call one by their given name. He wondered if he should make the concession and use Addison's given name, since Addison had worked so hard to follow his ways.
    A smile rose to Kazuhiro's lips. He'd spoken true when he told Addison…Jonathon…that he found his attempts charming. And he appreciated his efforts. All the foreign men he'd met had no interest in learning Japanese ways. They expected the people, the entire country for that matter, to concede to them and do things their way. But just as when one is a guest in another's home and one must abide by the owner's rules, so it should be when in a country. One should respect the laws and the people. Not expect them to change and make allowances for them.
    His smile faded. Change was going to happen to Japan. Even if all the outsiders left, their presence would always be felt. It was just as when the Dutch first came to Japan so many long years ago and were granted the right to trade here. Even their very limited, very restricted presence effected change.
    Kazuhiro pushed to his feet, water cascading off his body as he stepped out of the bath. He needed to stop his thoughts before they darkened his mood. He wouldn't allow that to happen. Not when Jonathon was waiting for him.
    Allowing Jonathon's name to float through his mind vanquished his dark thoughts. He felt eager to go to him. Once he had him in the privacy of his chambers, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop from touching him. Jonathon had almost broken his control that afternoon. Had the messenger not arrived, he knew he would've taken him.
    The way Jonathon's golden hair captured the sunlight made him want to run his fingers through it, to feel if it was as silken as it looked. But of all the beautiful attributes Jonathon had, it was his eyes that enchanted him. When he looked in them, their light blue reminded him of every spring day he'd ever lived, and a sense of calm came over him.
    Kazuhiro pulled on his kimono and took up the obi, deciding to forego his loincloth as he wouldn't be wearing it long. Not if Jonathon was as anxious for him.
    He left the bath, striding quickly toward his chambers. Stepping in, he found the servants had followed his orders and had set the low table with food. The scents of fresh, steamy rice, grilled fish, pickled radish and other vegetables came to him, but didn't stir his appetite. His body was focused on only one thing. He glanced toward his bedchamber, and through the open double doors, he saw his futon laid out.
    He moved toward the doors that were open to the garden, feeling the warm night air wash over him. He leaned against the frame, looking out to the garden. Kazuhiro forced himself to be still and quiet, when what he wanted was to pace off his anxious energy. Each motion he made brushed the silk of his kimono against his cock, and it only added to his desire to have it buried in Jonathon's soft hole.
    A tentative knock sounded on his outer door.
    Kazuhiro glanced toward the door and called, "Enter."
    The door slid open. The lantern threw a warm glow over Jonathon. He wore only a white shirt, tight brown trousers, and his feet were bare. It seemed he'd also decided to wear as few clothes as possible.
    A smile came to Kazuhiro's lips. What a beautiful vision it would be to see his golden-haired lover in Japanese clothes. He would have to be sure to buy him a kimono, if for nothing else than his own pleasure.
    As Jonathon slid the door closed, Kazuhiro started toward him. They met in the room's center. Kazuhiro saw Jonathon's gaze flick to the right at the futon. He grinned