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“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.

“You should go,” she said, proud the words came out even.

Growling her name, he got up and raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. His arousal stood out proud and eager, and the sight was enough to make her sex ache with wanting.

She hugged her arms tight to her chest and turned away from him. “Please shut the door behind you.”

There was a long pause before a loud zipping sound broke the silence. She heard feet pad across the carpet, heard him lean down to put his shoes on, and then the door squeaked as it opened and shut.

When the engine of his car rumbled to life, she locked the door, went into the bathroom, and cranked on the hot water in the shower. It was her turn to wash him off and leave him unsatisfied. She refused to cry. If he didn’t love her, someone else would. She wasn’t going to settle for a one-sided love. Not in this lifetime. Not ever.

Once she’d scrubbed her skin bright red, she climbed out of the shower, dressed, and checked her email. There it was. An email from Miss Q. A local community college was considering her. That sounded perfect. She gathered up her things and went to the school library, so she could fill out the application and send it out as soon as possible.

She couldn’t have Kh?i, but she didn’t need him. She was going to earn her way all by herself, and that was a billion times better.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

He should have lied.

Khai mentally kicked himself on the way home. I, love, and you were just words, and it wasn’t like he’d never lied before. He’d told his aunt Dì Anh he liked the blended aloe vera juice she made. He didn’t. He wasn’t even sure it was edible. It was slimy and gave him cramps every time.

If he lied, he could have Esme for three years. He needed those three years. Desperately. He swore he wouldn’t keep her permanently. He wouldn’t do that to her. Three years only. He should practice saying the words, turn the car around, and go lie to her right away. It wasn’t too late.

“I.” He cleared his throat and tried for the second word, but it wouldn’t come out. After driving for a while, he gripped the gear shift tighter and said, “Love, dammit. Love, love, love.”

Fuck, his heart was pounding, and sweat stood out on his skin, and he felt absolutely absurd. It wasn’t going to work if he had to say the words five minutes apart.

He forced himself to say, “I love. I love. I love. I love.”

Alarms rang in his head. Lies. Sweat beaded on his upper lip and trickled down his neck, and blue sparks floated over his field of vision.


Tags: Helen Hoang The Kiss Quotient Romance