Khai realized he could leave. Quan would take care of her and drive her home. Maybe after spending time with Quan, she’d want to pack up her things and switch brothers and houses. That worked out nicely for Khai. He couldn’t form a full-scale addiction to her if she was gone.
Setting his jaw, he marched to the front doors of the restaurant and pressed his hands to the metal handle. But his arms refused to push.
What if she didn’t want to dance? What if she wanted to go home right now? It didn’t make sense for Quan to take her when Khai was going there. That would be inefficient.
He turned around, planning to head up there and brave the music long enough to assure himself she was happy and tell her he was going home.
But there she was, at the bottom of the stairs, her hand resting on the railing.
So beautiful. And here. She’d come to find him again. No one ever looked for him. They all knew he wanted to be alone. Except it wasn’t always that way. Sometimes he was alone out of habit. Sometimes it took effort to distract himself from the growing emptiness inside.
“Are you leaving?” she asked in a small voice.
“I was going to tell you.” He heard the words as if from a distance, like someone else had spoken them. “If you want to dance, you should stay.”
“Do you want me to dance?” She didn’t say the words, but they hung in the air between them: without you.
He swallowed past a lump in his throat. “If it makes you happy.”
She took a step toward him. “What if I want to dance with you?”
“I don’t dance.”
“Can you try?” She took another step toward him. “For me?”
His chest constricted. “I can’t.” He’d never danced in his life. He’d be terrible at it and injure her and humiliate himself. Not to mention the loud music. He couldn’t function with those earsplitting decibels. Another reason why Quan was the better man. “If you want to stay, I know Quan will be glad to take you home.”
“You want me . . . and him . . . to dance?” Her eyebrows drew together. “Is that right?”
“If you want to.” And it was true. If that was what she wanted, he wanted her to have it, even if it made his chest feel like it was getting trampled on.
Several moments passed before she said, “I understand.” Then she smiled, but tears trickled down her face. She swiped them away, took a deep breath, and smiled wider before turning around.
He’d made her cry.
“Esme . . .”
She ignored him and walked back to the stairs. She was going to find Quan. She was going to be perfectly happy.
Without him.
Something inside of him snapped, and the rational part of his mind blinked off. A foreign part of him took control. His skin went fever hot. Blood roared in his ears. He was aware of his feet taking him across the room, saw his hand wrapping around her arm, pulling so she faced him.
Those tears.
They shattered him. He brushed the saline away with his thumbs.
“I’m okay,” she whispered. “Don’t worry. I—”
He took her mouth, pressing his lips to hers as the feel of her shocked through his system. Soft. Silk. Sweet. Esme. When he realized she’d gone stiff, he started to pull back in horror. What had he been think—
She softened against him, kissing him back, and that was it. His thoughts burned away. Something else rose from the ashes, something he’d kept chained up so long it was all fierceness and animal hunger. He stroked his tongue over her lips, and when she sighed and parted her lips, savage victory swept through him. He claimed her lips, claimed her mouth, claimed the liquid heat inside that tasted of vanilla and strawberries and woman.
* * *
• • •
Esme melted beneath the intensity of Kh?i’s kiss. She’d never been kissed like this, like he’d die if he stopped. His motions were tentative at first, as if he was learning her, but he gained confidence quickly. Each aching press of his lips, each dominating sweep of his tongue, weakened her more.