The Bride Test (The Kiss Quotient #2)(54)

He smiled slightly. “I had to drive around a little, but I found them in San Jose.”

“All day?” she asked.

“No, not all day.” He ducked his head and laughed a little. Was it her, or did his cheeks redden? “I did some reading.” He removed his glasses and stuck them on the coffee table.

“Thank you,” she said, more touched than she cared to admit, but then she noticed the box inside the second plastic bag. She knew what kind of box that was.

Her eyes went round. If he thought she was having sex with him again after last night, he had a few things to learn. These fruits were coming with her to her room, and she hoped he got ants all over his house. She’d secretly feed them and lure them to his bedroom, so they bit him in his sleep.

Just as she lifted the bowl and bag and unfolded her legs so she could get up, he looked at her directly and said, “I’m sorry.”

The words were so unexpected she didn’t know what to do. She stared at him without blinking.

“I screwed up last night. I didn’t realize—I didn’t know—” He made a frustrated sound and looked down at his knees. “I swear I practiced this, but it’s not coming out right.” His eyes met hers again, determined now. “Last night was my first time.”

She shook her head, not understanding.

“My first time. Ever. With a woman. With anyone.”

“You never … ?” she said before her throat dried up.

“I know it’s not a great excuse. I should have prepared ahead of time to make sure I did right by you, but …” His expression softened. “I’m glad it was you.”

She didn’t know how to respond. She’d never dreamed she’d be anyone’s first, and being this guarded man’s first meant something.

“I suppose that’s a selfish thing to say, considering you didn’t like it,” he said, grimacing slightly. “Will you give me another chance? Let me make it up to you?”

She parted her lips to speak, but nothing came out.

“Or have I screwed things up too badly?” When she still couldn’t bring herself to reply, his chest deflated. His lips curved with an almost-there smile, no dimples, and he averted his eyes and came up onto his knees. “I’m going to go to the office. I’ll see—”

“If I give you another chance, what will you do?” she asked.

His eyes searched hers before they dropped to her lips and darkened. “More kissing. A lot more kissing.”

“And then?”

“More touching.”

She shivered as his gaze tracked over her body. “Who gets to touch? Only you?”

His brow creased. “You can touch me if you want.”

“Anywhere?”

He was halfway through a nod when he said, “Except for one place.”

“Your face.”

“Ha, no. You can touch me there. You already have.”

“Then, where?” she asked.

A thinking expression crossed his face. “It’s not important unless you decide to give me another chance. Are you?”

She worried the inside of her lip before she said, “Maybe.”

“How can I help you decide?”

She set her fruit aside and rose to her knees so they were nearly at eye level. “Kiss me like the first time.”

For a suspended moment, he went completely motionless. Then his arms were wrapping around her, drawing her close, his hands tipping her head back. Their lips crushed together, and she gasped as heat arrowed through her. He gentled immediately, like he was afraid to hurt her, and the kisses turned slow, drugging.

She grabbed handfuls of his shirt as she struggled not to touch him, and he pulled back, saying, “Sorry, did I—”

“More.”

He kissed her like she was his whole world, and if she weren’t already kneeling, she would have collapsed to the floor. Grasping at his shirt, she returned each aching press of lips, each stroke of tongue.

They kissed until they were straining against each other on the floor, lips swollen and breathless, and then they kissed more, each lost in the other. When his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her pants, however, she snapped out of her daze, and her entire body tensed. She broke the kiss as a wave of inexplicable panic turned her skin cold.

“What is it?” he asked. His cheeks were flushed, but his eyes watched her with confusion and concern. “Have you changed your mind?”

She shook her head quickly. She wanted this, him. But that was the problem. She’d wanted him from the start, had opened herself up to him over and over, and what had that gotten her?

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

His face creased with something that looked like pain. “Of me?”

She shook her head again. “No, I’m scared you’ll push me away again when I touch you wrong, scared you’ll leave me again.” Against her will, her eyes watered, and tears spilled over. She turned her face away from him and swiped at her eyes with the back of a sleeve, embarrassed now. Even to her own ears, she sounded pathetic.

He cupped her cheek and gently urged her to look at him. “I won’t,” he said in a rough voice. “At least, I’ll try not to.”

She nodded and attempted to smile in response, but it felt off. “I’ll try not to” didn’t sound very convincing.