The Bride Test (20 page)

K
hai 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. Khải. 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 bed-room 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.

That little bow fascinated him. He wanted to touch it. And her legs, her skin, all of her. Her breasts, definitely her breasts.

“Your turn.” The husky edge to her voice had an almost tactile quality, and the hairs on his body stood on end.

His mouth was too dry to form words, so he nodded. He felt like he was shaking, but his hands were steady as he undid his tie and unfastened the buttons of his shirt. It was the look on her face, the way she watched every movement. To him, his body was just ... his body, this thing he lived inside of. Seeing himself from her eyes was a new experience.

When he took his shirt off, her lips parted on a quick draw of breath. When he removed his pants, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, her gaze roamed over him. His skin heated everywhere she looked, his chest, his arms, his belly, his legs.

She swept a hand through her long hair and bit a fingertip, and the air gusted from his lungs. Unable to resist any longer, he got to his knees and edged closer, closer. Half an arm’s length. A quarter. Their bodies pressed together, skin to skin for the first time.

He’d grappled with men. That was a deliberate, non-light kind of touching, and acceptable. He knew what it was like to have someone against him— two matched planes bruising and punishing, one slip and he ended up in a choke hold.

This was nothing like that. Esme didn’t smell like gym socks and man sweat, and her curves fit into his hollows, soft to hard, smooth to rough, the perfect debit to his credit. It hardly made sense when she was so much smaller than he was. He could overpower her in two seconds. But he never wanted to do that.

Her hot breath heated his neck, and he tipped her head back so he could see her face. Slumberous green eyes gazed at him, and her parted red lips seared away whatever remnants of resistance he might have had. He took her mouth, stroked his tongue deep, and she kissed him back just as fiercely.

He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He touched her everywhere as he mapped out her body in his mind. The ripe curves of her ass, the smooth glide of her back, her breasts. He groaned as her stiff nipples grazed against the centers of his palms. They seemed to be crying for his mouth, and before he knew it, he was sucking a hardened tip, rolling it against his tongue, crushing her to the bed, lost in her. Her legs parted to make room for his hips, and he shuddered as he rocked against her. Friction, her smell, the murmuring sounds she made, pure heaven.

“Now, Khải.”

He didn’t understand the words. He couldn’t stop rubbing himself against her.

“Khải,” she said on a gasp.
“Now.”

He pulled away, and her nipple popped from his mouth, wet, glistening. The sight was so erotic he had to look away before he could collect his thoughts. “What now?” he asked in an unrecognizable sandpaper voice.

Her lips opened, but words didn’t come. Her chest heaved on quick breaths, making her breasts move in the most alluring way, and down by her sides, her hands opened and closed, opened and closed, like she was grasping for something that wasn’t there.

Finally, she said, “Condom.”

Everything clicked into place.

He climbed off the bed and retrieved the lone condom from his pants pocket. Watching her, he eased his boxers down so his cock sprang out. When her eyes darkened and the tip of her tongue licked over her upper lip, a surge of raw lust almost knocked him to his knees. He yanked his boxers all the way down and stepped out of them before easing onto the bed beside her.

The foil crinkled as he opened it, and he rolled the lubricated latex over his hypersensitive length. Finished, he let his hands drop to his sides.

It was time, but he hardly knew where to take things next. He’d always thought there’d be an inner voice telling him what to do. Humans had been mating for thousands of years. It came to them naturally, instinctively. But all Khai heard was his own breathing. He was going to fuck this up.

Eyes steady on his, she bit her bottom lip and removed her panties with a subtle lift of her hips. She kept her legs pressed together, but the cloud of curls between her thighs caught his attention. He swallowed hard. She was naked, gloriously naked.

“Come here,” she said.

His body obeyed on its own, edging between her knees and covering her, lining them up just right. The lure of her lips was too much, and he kissed her with a touch of desperation. When he rolled his hips, his cock slid over her, and the tip lodged inside of her. Just the tip. He went flame hot everywhere, his back, the base of his skull, his scalp.

This was happening. Him and Esme. Together.

He kissed her deeper as he pushed in slowly. Each inch changed him, broke him down and put him back together again, until he finally seated himself inside her completely, and she threw her head back and moaned.

For a moment, he was too overwhelmed to move.
He’d pleased her
. He’d never dreamed it would be so easy to satisfy a woman. He smoothed the hair away from her face, kissed her lips, awash in tenderness and new sensation. There was nothing like being inside Esme. She was tight, fitting him like they were custom-made for each other, hot, soft.

When her hips lifted, pushing him in farther, pleasure sizzled through him, and those instincts he’d thought he didn’t have fired to life. He pulled out and thrust back into her with a harsh groan, out, in, faster. Holy fuck, sex was good. Sex was
fantastic
, ten thousand times better than jacking off in the shower, a million times, a billion.

And he knew it was because he was with Esme. She made everything different. He was so glad she was his first.

E
sme bunched the blankets in her hands as she fought against the need to touch Khải. His face was drawn like he was in pain. She wanted to soothe him, and then she wanted to stroke him all over. He was magnificent, all powerful muscle and hard lines.

It was good, so good, and even though he hadn’t once touched her where she needed, she was achingly close. She arched her back and writhed against him, trying to find the perfect angle, but her motions only enflamed him.

His thrusts picked up speed and grew shallower, and his mouth fell open as he pushed in sharply and locked their hips together for the span of several heartbeats. Lungs heaving, he kissed her on the temple. Then he pulled out, climbed off the bed, and disappeared into the bathroom.

She sagged against the bed in disbelief. That was it? Surely, he had to be coming back soon. Her sex ached for him to return and finish what he’d begun.

The shower started.

She sat upright and stared at the door to the bathroom as her skin went cold. He was really done. He’d enjoyed himself, and now he was showering her off. It hadn’t even been a minute since he’d finished. Her lips were still wet from his kisses.

Tears threatened, but she choked them back. She didn’t know how long she sat there staring at the bathroom door. It could have been hours or seconds, but she eventually jumped off his bed, gathered her things, and plopped them on the floor in her room. After she perched on the couch, she wrapped her arms around herself tight. She’d wanted to be with him, and now she had. Her curiosity was satisfied. She’d told him she didn’t expect anything, and that was what he’d given her. Nothing.

Hurt and anger spiraled through her. She focused on the anger.

When the shower turned off, she marched into the bathroom. He looked up in the middle of toweling himself. After an awkward second, he lifted the towel from his thigh and dried his hair, exposing his beautiful naked body. Defined muscle in his arms that bunched as he rubbed at his head, broad shoulders, firm belly,
that
part of him, strong legs. Everything perfect to her eyes, but not meant for her. He grinned at her, the kind with dimples, but the smile faded when she stared at him stonily.

She plodded into the shower stall and stabbed at the buttons. What was wrong with her that his smile still melted her? She had no self-respect at all. When she scrubbed between her legs, her sensitive flesh throbbed with need. He’d kissed and touched her until she was wild for him and then abandoned her. Again.

He would always be leaving her. Because she wasn’t what he wanted. She’d known this, but she’d thrown herself at him anyway.

Foolish, foolish girl.

As the water washed over her and heat sank into her skin, she swore everything stopped here. No more. No more secret hoping, no more seducing, no more caring about him. She was done. She wasn’t rich, classy, or smart, but she wasn’t something you could use once and toss away. She had value. You couldn’t see it in the clothes she wore or the abbreviations after her name or hear it in the way she spoke, but she
felt
it, even if she didn’t entirely understand where it came from. It pounded inside her chest, big and strong and bright. She deserved better than this.