The Bride Test (The Kiss Quotient #2)(51)

Khai kicked at a spot of dirt on the concrete as he waited. It sounded like he wasn’t the only one who’d had an eventful night. He didn’t think Quan’s date would be ignoring and avoiding him all day, though.

The front door swung open, revealing Quan in nothing but tattoos and an old pair of jeans. “Hey.”

For a moment, Khai was so distracted by Quan’s tattoos he forgot why he’d come. “When did you get those new ones? Do you have plans for that bare patch?”

Quan scratched at the swirling calligraphy on his right side that melded with the Japanese-style art on his left. “Gonna leave it blank. Too much of a good thing and all.”

“You don’t think you already crossed the ‘too much’ line?” Khai asked.

“Shut up, you. My ass is still bare. Come on in.”

Khai entered the building, and they rode up the elevator together.

“So what is it?” Quan asked as the numbers on the digital display climbed. “You never visit me.”

Khai stretched his fingers out again before relaxing them. “I had sex last night. With Esme.”

A giant smirk stretched over his brother’s mouth. “Your first time, right?”

Khai nodded curtly. He’d never told anyone he was a virgin, but of course Quan, with all his excellent people intuition, had known.

“Good job, little brother.” Quan held a fist out, and Khai bumped it with his own out of pure habit. Then he felt ridiculous.

“You don’t mind? I know you said you were interested, and I—”

“No, I don’t mind,” Quan said with a small laugh. “You’re my brother. I’ll always pick you first. Plus, I like her for you. I’m glad you went for it.”

Khai filled his chest with a big breath, relieved he hadn’t ruined anything with his brother through his indecisiveness but also strangely proud Esme had chosen him over Quan. If Khai were a woman, he’d pick Quan, no competition. “She’s acting weird now, and I don’t know what to do.”

“You mean like she’s getting clingy and you want her to stop? That happens sometimes. You gotta let them down gently. What I do is—”

“No, it’s not that.” He wouldn’t mind clinging. That would be better than what was going on right now. “I think she’s mad at me, but I can’t figure out what’s wrong. She won’t tell me.”

Quan’s eyebrows rose. “When did she start acting weird?”

“I think …” He looked to the side as he searched his memories. “I think right after we, uh, after the sex.”

Quan’s eyebrows rose even further before his expression went blank. “Maybe that’s it, then. Did she, you know, did she like it?”

“Yeah, that part was easy.”

“Really,” Quan said in a dry tone. “Your first time out the gate.”

“Yeah.”

Quan gave Khai a skeptical look. “What are you, the King Midas of Orgasms? I’ve been perfecting my craft since eighth grade, and sometimes I still don’t know what I’m doing down there. Women are complicated.”

“What craft? It’s sex. You put bodies together, and shit happens. It’s like the nature channel.” He did bad on the emotional front, but he’d gotten this part right, dammit.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve figured out the problem,” Quan said.

Khai shoved his hands into his pockets. “Tell me, then.” He was ninety-nine percent certain Quan was wrong.

“How do you know she came?”

The elevator dinged, and as they walked down a narrow hallway toward Quan’s place, Khai cleared his throat. “She made sounds. Those kinds of sounds.” Really good sounds.

“Anything else?” Quan stopped at his door and turned the key in the lock.

“What else is there?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, come in and sit down.” Quan opened the door to his bachelor pad.

Khai stepped inside carefully, half convinced he’d find sperm on the walls, but it was mostly neat. There was definitely no sperm. That he could see. If you analyzed the black leather couches closely, who knew what you’d find. He didn’t take his shoes off before he followed Quan to his kitchen.

“Have a seat. I need to fix my hangover.” Quan puttered around his modern kitchen, breaking eggs into a blender and adding orange juice. Once he’d blended the mixture to a froth, he poured it into an old giant Slurpee cup and joined Khai at the kitchen table. “Want some?” He held it out toward Khai.

Khai grimaced. “No, thanks. Don’t you have Advil?”

“Nah, ran out.” Quan chugged half of his concoction, set the cup down, and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Okay, back to the sex. My guess is she didn’t orgasm.”

“What are the symptoms for orgasm?”

Quan burst out laughing and drank more of his orange hangover cure. “Only you would talk about orgasming like it was a sickness.”

Khai drummed his fingers on the table. “Can you just get on with it?”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Quan took a deep breath before he chuckled, shook his head, and scratched at the morning scruff on his jaw. “First, she—wait, wouldn’t it be awesome if Michael were here? He’s a pro at this shit. I know, let’s call him.”