The Bride Test (The Kiss Quotient 2)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Khai drove home in a state of madness. His heartbeat was so out of control it was a wonder he didn’t get into ten car accidents. The condom in his pocket burned against his thigh.

He was going to have sex with Esme.

Sex.

With Esme.

Even in the midst of this fever, he recognized the fact that he shouldn’t do it. He should stay away from her. Girl loves boy loves girl. What if she fell in love with him? He couldn’t—

No, he told himself firmly. He could. She’d clearly stated she didn’t expect anything, and he trusted her to know her own mind. As for himself and his fear of addiction, he’d manage. He’d gone too far to stop now. He wanted this too much. Besides, grown people did this all the time. His brother did this all the time, as evidenced by his reliable supply of prophylactics.

After Khai parked outside his place, they walked to the front door together. They’d done this countless times, but everything felt different tonight, surreal somehow. The air smelled sweeter even though the night-blooming jasmine had always grown here. How come he’d never heard the chirping of the crickets like this or noticed the stars as they blinked through the tree canopy?

As he unlocked the door, Esme hugged his paperback book to her chest, watching him from under her lashes. She wet her lips, and the desire to kiss her hit so hard his stomach muscles flexed. He tried to regulate his breathing, tried to calm the rush of his blood, tried to restore his usual functional state, but then he remembered he was allowed to kiss her.

Anytime. He. Wanted.

He pinned her to the door and claimed her lips, groaning as she softened and returned his kiss. He always expected her to turn him away, but she never did. It was a heady thing, her acceptance. What else would she let him do?

With one last parting kiss on her mouth, he trailed his lips down her neck. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d left a mark there. Deep caveman satisfaction unfurled inside of him, and he didn’t question it. He kissed the spot in greeting. When she tipped her head to the side, offering herself to him silently, he gave in to instincts he didn’t understand and scraped his teeth across her sensitive skin. Her breath broke, and he saw the goose bumps stand up on her arm. He’d done that.

So soft, so responsive to him, just for him. For now.

Holding his breath, he did what he’d been yearning to do forever. He cupped her full breasts in his palms. And she let him. His thumbs registered the hard points of her nipples through her dress, and he stroked her, exhaling shakily when her eyes went hazy and she bit her bottom lip. He was ninety percent sure she liked that.

What else did she like? Could he make her feel as good as he felt right now? He was determined to try. He needed to please her. He needed that more than anything.

His mouth found hers again, and his mind went fuzzy. She overwhelmed his senses, made it impossible to think. There was only her strawberry taste, the silk of her skin, the curves filling his palms, and the softness that pressed against him every time his hips rocked into her.

Between kisses, she whispered, “Bed. Kh?i. Now.”

Bed.

Sex.

Esme.

His body hardened to the point of pain, and he released her lips and pressed his forehead to hers, taking a moment to cool down and relearn how to use his brain. People told him he was smart. He should be able to figure out how to get them to a bed. It was a regular mundane task. It shouldn’t seem so impossible. Break it into steps.

He opened the door, giving himself an extra point when he remembered to put his keys in his pocket, and then picked her up.

She laughed as he carried her into the house. “I can walk. I’m better.”

“I like holding you.”

Her eyes met his. Her lips didn’t curve, but he felt like she was smiling. She was silent the rest of the way to his room. After he placed her in the center of his bed, she sat up, put his book on his nightstand, and slipped the high-heeled shoes off her feet, letting them drop to the shag carpet. Her necklace and other jewelry came off next. Then she curled her legs beneath her and watched him with heated eyes.

After a moment, he realized she was waiting. For him.

He took his shoes off—something he’d never done in his bedroom because he did it at the front door. He’d probably left a trail of street grime through his house. Before that could disturb him too much, he shook his head, shrugged out of his suit coat, and sat on the bed. Without meaning to, he’d put an arm’s length between them, a safe distance.

She considered that empty space for a second before she looked him in the eyes, grabbed hold of her dress, and pulled it over her head, completely obliterating him.

In a split second, she redefined perfection for him. His standards aligned to her exact proportions and measurements. No one else would ever live up to her.

Beautiful woman, beautiful sculpted breasts and dusky nipples, beautiful thighs. She wore the same white cotton panties from the night of the first wedding. He could tell by the little bow at the waistband. Either that, or she had several just like it. Did women buy underwear in packs of six like men did? The image of six white panties with six little white bows flashed in his mind.