The Bride Test (The Kiss Quotient, #2)

by Helen Hoang

“Is that okay?” When his eyelids drooped with pleasure and he nodded, she grew braver. She pushed her other hand from his jaw up to his temple and into his hairline. “How is that?” she whispered. “Good.” The word rumbled out of him, deep, almost gravelly. His hair was thick and cool between her fingers, smooth as silk, and before she realized what she was doing, she was massaging his scalp with slow, sweeping motions. And he was letting her. His eyes fell shut, and he leaned into her touch like he was soaking it up. His breaths came slow, easy. If she pressed her palm over his heart now, she would have bet everything his heartbeat had calmed down. She’d done that. She pulled on the strands like she usually did while cutting. “How is this?” He frowned, but his eyes didn’t open. “Tighter.” “Like this?” She pulled harder. “More.” She bit her lip and pulled harder yet, scared of hurting him. “This?” A long breath sighed out of him. “That’s better.” She shook her head as she smiled to herself. He was a puzzle she never would have been able to solve if he hadn’t shown her how. Those were the best kinds of puzzles, though, weren’t they? The ones no one else could figure out? “I’m cutting now,” she said.