She stepped toward him, and when she bit her bottom lip, his eyes tracked the movement, mesmerized by the way her white teeth scraped over the full red skin. What if he leaned down and kissed her?
Would she let him? What would it be like to bring their mouths together? To feel those red lips against his own? To delve inside and claim—
Something skated lightly against his hand.
Cold. Unexpected. Wrong.
“What the—” He jerked away on reflex, way too quickly and violently, and she startled and backed away from him with wide eyes.
“Sorry,” she said as she hugged her hand to her chest. She’d touched him, maybe to hold hands, and he’d frightened her. He hated frightening people.
Explanations piled up on his tongue, but he didn’t know where to start. He didn’t even know if he should bother. What was the point? After this summer, they were never going to see each other again.
The impression of her touch remained on his skin, shimmery and unpleasant, and he knew from experience the sensation wouldn’t fade for another day. Light touches did that, and it was worse when people caught him by surprise. Like she had. If she’d warned him, and if she’d touched him the right way, maybe … He shook his head at his thoughts. There was no maybe.
The incident today with Sara had confirmed he wasn’t meant for relationships. Since that was the case, he couldn’t encourage touching. What if—he didn’t know—what if they explored this attraction between them, and she fell in love with him? That would be horribly irresponsible of him, wouldn’t it? He could never love her back. He’d just hurt her. And he never wanted to do that. She was supposed to be happy.
When he rubbed his hand against his pant leg in an effort to blunt the feeling, she watched the motion with a tightening of her lips.
“If you want to eat cake and dance, I don’t mind waiting for you here.” But he wasn’t going to join her. He was finished with that banquet room. And maybe it was cowardly, but he didn’t want to see Sara crying anymore.
“No, no, let’s go.” She flashed a smile at him and walked efficiently from the room.
As they strode down the hotel’s lavish hallways, Khai was very aware that she didn’t rest her hand in the crook of his arm. She kept a healthy distance between them, and he couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or relieved. He honestly hadn’t liked it before, but he liked this even less.
The ground shook with a rhythmic bass when they passed the doors to the banquet hall where the reception was taking place. The dancing had started. That meant dinner was over, the fruit-filled wedding cake had been eaten, speeches spoken, and the wedding was basically done.
Andy had missed all of it.
He should have been here. He probably would have been a groomsman. If not, he definitely would have been an usher. He would have sat next to Khai during the ceremony and reception. He would have given a speech that embarrassed Sara and made everyone laugh. Right now, he’d be in there dancing because it was Sara’s wedding and he was that kind of brother.
The fact that he wasn’t in there dancing made Khai’s shoulders, lungs, and feet heavy. He pulled at his collar again because it was strangling him. At least he knew what was wrong now. It was his sense of order. Things weren’t in their proper place.
It was so important to him to have things in their proper place.
? ? ?
When they got back to Kh?i’s house, he parked by the curb again. Esme wondered why he didn’t like using his garage, but she didn’t want to ask him. She couldn’t forget the way he’d wiped her touch off his hand.
Why had he acted so disgusted?
He’d had that look in his eyes, the one men got when they wanted to kiss you. She knew that look. Or she thought she did. In that moment, all she’d wanted was for him to do it. She hadn’t stopped to think about marriage, green cards, and finding a daddy for her baby. She’d been too mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze and the pull that always drew her to him. She’d wanted to feel his lips on hers, to be close to him, to know him.