The Bride Test(77)

She’d left him for this.

He hated everything about it.

“Thirsty?” Without waiting for him to reply, she hurried to the kitchen, filled a disposable cup from the tap, and brought it to him.

He drank down the water, grimacing at the hard taste, and handed the cup back to her. She stepped toward the kitchen, clearly planning to put it away or in the garbage or something, and he took advantage of the opportunity to gather her in his arms, pressing her close, her chest to his. She gasped, and the plastic cup fell forgotten to the ugly carpet.

“Marry me,” he said.

She drew in a sharp breath, and her green eyes searched his face. “Why?”

He shook his head. He didn’t know how to say this. It felt too big. At the same time, it didn’t feel like enough. “I’ve missed you.” So badly his body had broken down. “I need to know you’re safe and happy. And I want you close. With me.”

Her hands balled up against his chest like they did when she was fighting against touching him, and he covered them with his and worked on the fingers until they unfurled.

“Come back with me and marry me.”

“Kh?i …” She bit her lip.

Acting on instinct and desperation, he angled her head back and kissed her. She softened against him like always and pressed herself close, and his body hardened in a euphoric rush. The wild idea crossed his mind that if he kissed and touched her right, he might muddle her senses to the point where she said yes by accident. And hell yes, he would hold her to it.

“Marry me.”

? ? ?

Kh?i’s kiss. Kh?i’s touch. His hands sweeping over her body, demanding, possessive, making her melt. She’d tried to stay away from him, but his intense sorrow during the death anniversary had worried her. She hadn’t known how to be there for him, but this, she knew exactly what to do with this. He needed, so she gave.

He said it again. “Marry me.”

It was probably wishful thinking, but she heard I love you in his words. Each proposal seduced her more. The cool fabric of her sleeping bag met her back, and he covered her with his body. A rough palm slid under her dress, up her thigh, and cupped her between her legs. Knowing fingers stroked her, and she drenched the fabric of her underwear.

“Marry me,” he whispered against her lips.

“Kh?i—”

Before she could finish speaking, he pushed her dress up above her breasts and feasted on her, making sharp pleasure shock from her nipples straight between her thighs. His hand slipped into her panties, and slick fingertips rubbed her there, taking away her ability to think. What had she been about to say? She couldn’t remember. She was lost in desire—hers and his. He’d never been this out of control, this urgent.

He kissed his way down her body with hungry licks and small nips and bites, and goose bumps shivered over her with each prickle of his beard on her rib cage, her tummy, her hips. That was new, but she liked it. He yanked her panties off impatiently and fastened his mouth on her sex, and she clenched hard and tight.

His repeated proposal echoed in her head. He’d turned to her in his time of need and let her in. He loved her, she felt it, and the knowledge propelled her straight over the edge with a startled moan.

He glanced up at her in surprise. “I only licked you once.”

“Kh?i,” she whined, threading her fingers into his hair and directing him back where she wanted him. He couldn’t stop, not yet. If he stopped, she’d—

A wide grin stretched over his lips before he sucked her back into his mouth, and the convulsions tore through her. She rocked against his face, over and over until the aftershocks spaced out, and then he was gathering her close and pressing kisses to her temple, her cheek, her jaw.

“Marry me,” he said in a gravelly voice.

She heard it again. I love you.

He sought out her lips and stroked his tongue deep as he gripped her hips and pressed her against his hardness. “Say yes.”

Her body softened in readiness. Yes, she wanted him. Yes, she loved him. Yes, she wanted to marry him. She cupped the generous bulge between his legs and demanded, “Say you love me.” She had to hear him say it. She deserved to hear it.

He ground his hips against her hand as a hoarse sound escaped his throat.

She eased his zipper open, captured his firm length in her palm, and kissed his swollen mouth softly. “Say it one time. Just one time.” Once would be enough.

His lungs gusted as he stared deep into her eyes. “I missed you.”

She stroked him, running her hand to the base of his sex and back to the tip. “And?”

He swallowed loudly. “I want you.”

She wrapped a leg around his hip and touched the head of his sex to her wet folds. This would get him to say it. “And?”

He shuddered, and his eyes went dark. “I need you.”

“And?” Her throat swelled as disappointment threatened. Say it, just say it. Why wouldn’t he say it?

Regret swept across his face, and she jerked away from him and sat up, pulling her dress down so it covered her nakedness. He hadn’t let her in, after all. She’d been making love to him again when it was just sex to him, and it made her feel horrible and cheap and small. She wanted to run away, but this was her apartment. She’d paid for this place with her own hard-earned money.