The Bride Test (The Kiss Quotient, #2)

by Helen Hoang

The waiter came to their table and set a giant platter in the middle. It contained three types of cold meats and seaweed salad, and there was the jellyfish. It looked like rice noodles or sautéed onions but crunched against your teeth in the most disconcerting way. Esme could barely contain herself as she waited for her turn to fill her plate, and then she ate with an enthusiasm that had Quan grinning. When she blushed, Quan grinned even harder. “Hungry?” Quan asked. “This is good,” she said as she wiped her mouth with a napkin self-consciously. Quan chuckled. “I bet you’re fun to take out.” Switching his attention to Khai, he asked, “Did you take her to that cold noodles place in San Mateo?” A bitter taste filled Khai’s mouth as he shook his head. He hadn’t thought to take her out. Between his mom’s cooking and Esme’s, there was way too much to eat. He’d never seen a reason to go out. Until now. “Ah, well, you should go there next,” Quan said. “Everything is good there. It’d be fun to see how much she can eat.” “A lot,” Esme said with a laugh, and her green eyes sparkled brighter than all her cubic zirconia put together. She looked happy. Quan was making her happy.

He’d heard countless variations of these kinds of speeches. So happy for the union of these two families, looking forward to a bright future, so proud of my daughter, etc. Esme, however, hung on every word. She smiled, but Khai picked up on her sadness, an unusual feat for him. Her eyes lost their shine, and when the bride’s dad hugged his daughter, she wiped a tear from her cheek. He was reaching for her hand when she pulled away to cover her mouth, smothering a laugh. Quan whispered something in her ear, and she laughed harder and shook her head at him, like they were old friends. Khai exhaled quietly and stared down at his hand. It hadn’t occurred to him to make her laugh. He didn’t even know how. Good thing there were people like Quan in this world.

“What? How can you turn that down?” Quan asked. To Esme, he said, “You can do mine.” Suppressing a smile, she put a morsel of lobster meat on Quan’s plate, and Khai had the horrible urge to snatch the food off his brother’s plate and gobble it down. It made no sense, and he grabbed his water glass and took a large gulp. A floral flavor had him frowning. What was that? When he pulled the glass away from his lips, he found red lipstick on the rim. He’d accidentally used Esme’s glass. Germ transference. He wasn’t excessively germophobic, but with all the new bacteria no doubt swarming in his mouth, he might as well have kissed her. Except he’d never kissed her. Not even once. He didn’t know the softness of her lips or the taste of her mouth. By drinking from her cup, he’d gotten all the cost without any of the benefit. That hardly seemed fair. The scope of his vision narrowed to her lips. Full, red, and wet, they called to him.

Khai had no idea how to articulate his current state, so he gave his usual answer, “Okay.” “You missed kendo practice last weekend.” That was kind of a big deal. Khai never missed practice— not even when he was sick— but Esme had asked him to take her to Berkeley. And if she asked, he knew he would give her anything. If he could. “Sorry, I was busy,” he said. Quan laughed as he rubbed at his buzzed head. “Tell me about it. I’m so busy with this CEO shit I hardly have time for anything. That’s why I haven’t checked up on you before now. She’s not who I expected Mom to pick for you, but she’s great. I’m surprised you don’t like her.” Khai started to correct his brother and say he did like her, but he frowned at his drink instead. If he said he liked her, Quan would probably start matchmaking. He didn’t want that. It was hard enough to stay away from her as it was. “What don’t you like about her?” Quan asked. “She’s fun and hot as fuck.” He couldn’t answer that question. There wasn’t anything about Esme he’d change. Not a single thing. “I’m just not interested.” As he said the words, however, they felt uncomfortably like a lie. Their relationship wasn’t even physical, and he was already half addicted to her. He needed to keep them apart. For both their sakes. He dug the paperback out of his inner coat pocket and flipped through the pages with his thumb once before he caught himself. “You’re kidding me,” Quan said, pinning a disgusted look on the book. “You’re going to read wi...

“Yeah.” That had been the plan. Weddings were bad enough on their own, but watching Esme and Quan interacting like best friends was even worse. He didn’t bother analyzing why. “Can’t you try to be nice to her? It’s obvious weddings are hard for her. She grew up without a father, and it has to suck seeing the bride with her dad.” Khai frowned. He hadn’t made that connection earlier.

“She’ll be fine with you there.” “Are you ... handing your girl to me? You’d be okay with me and her being together?” It took Khai a moment to comprehend what his brother was saying, but then his muscles flexed involuntarily. No, he wasn’t okay with that. He didn’t want Esme for himself, but he didn’t want her with anyone else, either. He always pictured them apart but single. “Because I’m interested,” Quan continued. “Those eyes alone would do it, but the rest of her ...” Quan made hourglass movements with his hands. “Jesus.” Listening to his brother talk about Esme that way was worse than hearing someone chew with their mouth open, and the unfamiliar desire rose to punch Quan in the nose. When Khai noticed he’d fisted his hands, he uncurled his fingers, appalled. He pushed away his violent thoughts and forced himself to be rational. When he thought about Esme’s needs instead of his own, one thing became very clear. Quan was perfect for her. His brother could give Esme the things Khai couldn’t. Quan could make her happy and understand her, and most important, Quan could love her. Khai wanted that for her. She deserved that. “I’m okay with it,” he heard himself say. After clearing his throat, he made himself clarify, “I’m okay with you two being together.” Cold sweat beaded on Khai’s forehead as sickness swam in his stomach, and he swallowed a mouthful of his drink. He couldn’t remember what it was, but it tasted strong. He wished it was stronger. “I’m going to go read dow...

Quan considered him for a moment, his gaze level and weighted. “Yeah, I’ll let her know.” Khai tipped his glass in Quan’s direction and fled the banquet room, feeling like he was leaving something priceless behind.

“Really.” She poked at her cake with the tip of her fork and lifted a shoulder, saying nothing. “The dancing starts soon,” he said. “Want to dance with me?” Her eyes jumped to his face. “You want to dance? With me?” “Yeah, I want to dance with you.” His lips curved into a smile, transforming his face from severe and dangerous to wildly handsome. Oh, this man. “I, um ...” She put her fork down, sensing this was important. “It looks bad if— Why?” “I don’t care what people think. It’s just a dance, Esme,” he said with a careless grin. But it wasn’t just a dance. It was more than that. She was in this for marriage, and people would be vicious if they saw her flitting between brothers. Cô Nga would be disappointed. Quân had to know that. Unless ... Was he interested in marrying her? No, he’d just met her. He couldn’t possibly want to marry her already. Right? She began to rub her face, but the scent of lobster gave her pause. “I need to wash my hands. I will be right back,” she said before rushing away from the table.

Were they talking about Khải? They made it sound like he was a billionaire, when Esme was certain he wasn’t rich. She supposed it was perfectly possible these two women were worse off than he was. An old beat-up house was better than no house. “Did you see her all over Quan?” the first woman asked. “Yeah, if it doesn’t work with one brother, try the next.” Esme scowled. Without a doubt, they were talking about her, but she hadn’t been flirting with Quân. Had she? Definitely not on purpose. He was attractive, though, and funny, considerate, and kind. If she’d never met Khải, she’d jump at the chance to dance with him. But she had met Khải.

She still wasn’t Esme in Accounting, the one Khải wanted. But Quân wanted her— maybe— and he seemed to like her as she was, without an accounting certification and GED. Unlike Khải, he wanted to dance with her. It might not be a big deal for Quân, but it was for her. The man radiated sex appeal. Their bodies would touch. He’d have his arms around her. They’d move together. And she’d respond to him. How could she not? She was human and starved for affection. If she was smart, she’d switch to the brother who was a better bet. From where she was now, that brother appeared to be Quân, but when it came to matters of the heart, she’d never been good at listening to reason. The real question was: Who did her heart want?

He turned around, planning to head up there and brave the music long enough to assure himself she was happy and tell her he was going home. But there she was, at the bottom of the stairs, her hand resting on the railing. So beautiful. And here. She’d come to find him again. No one ever looked for him. They all knew he wanted to be alone. Except it wasn’t always that way. Sometimes he was alone out of habit. Sometimes it took effort to distract himself from the growing emptiness inside. “Are you leaving?” she asked in a small voice. “I was going to tell you.” He heard the words as if from a distance, like someone else had spoken them. “If you want to dance, you should stay.” “Do you want me to dance?” She didn’t say the words, but they hung in the air between them: without you. He swallowed past a lump in his throat. “If it makes you happy.” She took a step toward him. “What if I want to dance with you?” “I don’t dance.” “Can you try?” She took another step toward him. “For me?” His chest constricted. “I can’t.” He’d never danced in his life. He’d be terrible at it and injure her and humiliate himself.

Not to mention the loud music. He couldn’t function with those earsplitting decibels. Another reason why Quan was the better man. “If you want to stay, I know Quan will be glad to take you home.” “You want me ... and him ... to dance?” Her eyebrows drew together. “Is that right?” “If you want to.” And it was true. If that was what she wanted, he wanted her to have it, even if it made his chest feel like it was getting trampled on. Several moments passed before she said, “I understand.” Then she smiled, but tears trickled down her face. She swiped them away, took a deep breath, and smiled wider before turning around. He’d made her cry. “ Esme ...” She ignored him and walked back to the stairs. She was going to find Quan. She was going to be perfectly happy. Without him. Something inside of him snapped, and the rational part of his mind blinked off. A foreign part of him took control. His skin went fever hot. Blood roared in his ears. He was aware of his feet taking him across the room, saw his hand wrapping around her arm, pulling so she faced him. Those tears. They shattered him. He brushed the saline away with his thumbs. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “Don’t worry. I—” He took her mouth, pressing his lips to hers as the feel of her shocked through his system. Soft. Silk. Sweet. Esme. When he realized she’d gone stiff, he started to pull back in horror. What had he been think— She softened against him, kissing him back, and that was it. His thoughts burned away. Something els...

Esme melted beneath the intensity of Khải’s kiss. She’d never been kissed like this, like he’d die if he stopped. His motions were tentative at first, as if he was learning her, but he gained confidence quickly. Each aching press of his lips, each dominating sweep of his tongue, weakened her more. Her knees threatened to buckle, but she was afraid to anchor herself against him. If he stopped, she’d cry. She needed more, much more. She couldn’t breathe for needing. She kissed him back harder, and he groaned against her mouth and swept his hands down her back, across her shoulder blades, along her spine. Lower. He squeezed her behind, and her inner muscles tightened. He pulled her close and rolled his hips so his hardness pressed against her. She gasped as an electric thrill shot straight to her core, and she arched against him, clinging to the lapels of his coat. It was either that or fall.

“Chào, Cô Nga,” she said before inclining her head toward the aunts. She pressed her thighs together, not used to being this aroused in a room full of people. Khải ran a hand through his hair. “Hi, Mom, Dì Anh, Dì Mai, Dì Tuyết.” Averting his eyes, he sucked his swollen bottom lip into his mouth. Oh sky, her lipstick was all over him. “Anh Khải, let me— I . . .” She lifted a hand toward his face. When she hesitated to touch him, he brought her hand to his jaw. “What is it?” he asked. “My lipstick.” She brushed her thumb over a smear at the corner of his reddened mouth, but it wouldn’t come off. “Oh no, Khải.”

Instead of getting upset like she thought he would, he smiled, flashing those dimples at her, and warmth flooded her heart. He didn’t mind getting caught kissing her. “Young ones, ha?” one of his aunts commented, and the others tittered into their hands like schoolgirls. “These two kids.” Cô Nga tried to sound stern, but she couldn’t keep a smile off her face. “Go home already. People will see you.” She dug through her granddaddy-sized purse until she came up with a tissue and handed it to Esme. Then she dragged the aunts off. As soon as the front doors swayed shut, Esme lifted the tissue toward Khải’s mouth, but he dodged it and kissed her again, a slow, thorough press of lips to lips. The tissue bunched up in her hand, forgotten, as he threaded his fingers into her hair and tipped her head back so he could kiss her deeper. A throat cleared. But this time, when Esme tried to wrench herself away, Khải’s arms wrapped around her and held her close. She looked over her shoulder and found Quân watching them with his arms crossed and a big grin on his face. “The older folks are starting to leave,” Quân said. “You guys might wanna ... take this somewhere else. You know, so you don’t give them heart attacks.” Khải looked from his brother to Esme and loosened his hold on her somewhat. “Do you want to go with me ... or stay?” “I want to be with you,” she whispered. That beautiful smile spread over his face again. “Let’s go, then.”

They separated, and Esme tucked the hair behind her ear, not sure how to act around Quân now. But he didn’t seem angry or insulted. If anything, he seemed pleased. Had he orchestrated this somehow? Quân gave Khải one of those American handshake/one-armed-hug/back-slap things. “Call me if you need anything. Have a good night, you two.” He winked at Esme and climbed back up the stairs, and she waved at him awkwardly. Khải opened the hand his brother had gripped earlier, and a shiny foil lay in his palm. Heat exploded in Esme’s cheeks, but she couldn’t help grinning. Quân was the best brother ever. Khải shifted the foil so he held it between his index and middle fingers and considered her with a steady gaze. “Will I have the chance to use this tonight...

No, he told himself firmly. He could. She’d clearly stated she didn’t expect anything, and he trusted her to know her own mind. As for himself and his fear of addiction, he’d manage. He’d gone too far to stop now. He wanted this too much. Besides, grown people did this all the time. His brother did this all the time, as evidenced by his reliable supply of prophylactics.

In a split second, she redefined perfection for him. His standards aligned to her exact proportions and measurements. No one else would ever live up to her. Beautiful woman, beautiful sculpted breasts and dusky nipples, beautiful thighs. She wore the same white cotton panties from the night of the first wedding. He could tell by the little bow at the waistband. Either that, or she had several just like it. Did women buy underwear in packs of six like men did? The image of six white panties with six little white bows flashed in his mind. That little bow fascinated him. He wanted to touch it. And her legs, her skin, all of her. Her breasts, definitely her breasts.

There was nothing like being inside Esme. She was tight, fitting him like they were custom-made for each other, hot, soft. When her hips lifted, pushing him in farther, pleasure sizzled through him, and those instincts he’d thought he didn’t have fired to life. He pulled out and thrust back into her with a harsh groan, out, in, faster. Holy fuck, sex was good. Sex was fantastic, ten thousand times better than jacking off in the shower, a million times, a billion. And he knew it was because he was with Esme. She made everything different. He was so glad she was his first.

Hurt and anger spiraled through her. She focused on the anger. When the shower turned off, she marched into the bathroom. He looked up in the middle of toweling himself. After an awkward second, he lifted the towel from his thigh and dried his hair, exposing his beautiful naked body. Defined muscle in his arms that bunched as he rubbed at his head, broad shoulders, firm belly, that part of him, strong legs. Everything perfect to her eyes, but not meant for her. He grinned at her, the kind with dimples, but the smile faded when she stared at him stonily. She plodded into the shower stall and stabbed at the buttons. What was wrong with her that his smile still melted her? She had no self-respect at all. When she scrubbed between her legs, her sensitive flesh throbbed with need. He’d kissed and touched her until she was wild for him and then abandoned her. Again. He would always be leaving her. Because she wasn’t what he wanted. She’d known this, but she’d thrown herself at him anyway. Foolish, foolish girl. As the water washed over her and heat sank into her skin, she swore everything stopped here. No more. No more secret hoping, no more seducing, no more caring about him. She was done. She wasn’t rich, classy, or smart, but she wasn’t something you could use once and toss away. She had value. You couldn’t see it in the clothes she wore or the abbreviations after her name or hear it in the way she spoke, but she felt it, even if she didn’t entirely understand where it came f...

He rubbed at his neck as he took in the blankets on the couch. “You’re not sleeping ... in my room? Like usual?” “The couch is fine.” His brow wrinkled, but after a while, he nodded. “All right, then. Good night.” Flashing a shadow of a smile at her, he shut the door, and his footsteps receded as he returned to his room. She punched her pillow before she pulled it out from under her cheek and hugged it next to her body like it was a person. She didn’t need to sleep with him. Her anger would keep her company.

“Are you hungry? I can—” “No, thanks.” She shut the door in his face. He stared at the door for a good minute. What in the world was going on? Had he ... done something wrong? He couldn’t think of anything. There’d been the sex, which was amazing, and afterward, he’d showered right away so he didn’t smear his sweat all over her. That had taken monumental effort since he’d felt like someone had shot him with a hippopotamus tranquilizer. What was it? He wished he understood people.

He tried it again. Still nothing. One more time with feeling. More nothing. Grumbling to himself, he got his phone out of his pocket and dialed his brother. Quan picked up on the first ring. “Yo, wassup?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. “I’m outside your building.” “Whoa, what? Is something wrong? Wait, I’m coming. Hold on a second.” A softer female voice murmured something in the background, and he said, “It’s my brother. Be right back.” The call disconnected. 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.

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.”

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 farther 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.

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.” “What? No. Can’t you just tell me?” Quan waved his fingers toward Khai’s pockets. “Get your phone out and call him. He can verify what I say, so you can stop looking at me like I’m cheating off someone’s test answers.” “You call him.”

“Quan,” someone called from the other side of the condo. “I’m getting cold.” Quan clapped his hands and rubbed them together like everything was settled. “I think we’re done here. Feel free to call me if you have questions. But not until ten at the earliest. Good luck. Oh, and maybe you wanna buy a box of condoms on the way home. I’d give you some of mine, but I only have two left.”

Esme tried her best to focus on studying, but thoughts of Khải kept intruding on her United States history. Why had he looked so confused? Did he treat all his women that way? Was she supposed to be grateful he’d slept with her and beg for more? She sneered. Not in this life. Not even in her next life when she was a catfish. After reading the same page three times, she shut her textbook. She wasn’t trying to impress him anymore. She wasn’t sure why she continued studying. It wasn’t like any of this information would help her clean bathrooms any better.

He was wearing his reading glasses and looked especially accountant/assassin-like in his black T-shirt and pants. Beautiful mind, beautiful body. This man had kissed her like he was drowning last night. And then he’d discarded her as soon as he’d finished with her. A lychee lodged in her throat, and she forced it down with an uncomfortable swallow. She picked up her half-finished bowl of lychees and prepared to run.

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 an...

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.

It took her a few seconds to figure out what that was, and then her blush grew so hot she could feel heat coming off her body in waves. That was not something she’d ever known, and her grandma certainly wouldn’t approve. The thought of him kissing her between her thighs was outrageous. And intriguing. “Later,” she said and urged him to hurry. Once he’d rolled the condom onto his length, she pulled him down onto the floor with her. Their bodies lined up next to each other in that perfect way, and he pressed his cheek to hers like he was savoring being close to her. “Please, don’t let me make you cry,” he whispered in her ear. “If something is wrong, tell me so I can fix it. Please.” Her heart squeezed, and she hugged him tight. “I’ll tell you.” He swallowed once before he shifted his hips, and they came together with broken breaths and a long sigh. Filled with him, she couldn’t help arching up, trying to get closer, until he reached between them and touched her. She clenched tightly around him as heat shimmered outward from the place where his fingertips stroked. “Show me how to make it good for you, too,” he said as he looked at her directly, no trace of shame on his face. “Because I need you to feel the way I do right now.”