She softened against him, kissing him back, and that was it. His thoughts burned away. Something else rose from the ashes, something he’d kept chained up so long it was all fierceness and animal hunger. He stroked his tongue over her lips, and when she sighed and parted her lips, savage victory swept through him. He claimed her lips, claimed her mouth, claimed the liquid heat inside that tasted of vanilla and strawberries and woman.
? ? ?
Esme melted beneath the intensity of Kh?i’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.
Closer, she needed closer. She tried to melt into him, rubbed her body against his, but it wasn’t enough. Her palms ached to touch and explore, to know him. She resisted the urge and gripped his lapels tighter as he kissed her jaw, nipped her earlobe, and sucked on her neck. Goose bumps rippled over her skin.
The room spun in a dizzying swirl, leaving the two of them in a world of their own. All she knew was the safety of his embrace, the heat of his mouth, and his scent—soap, aftershave, man. They needed a bed, a wall, a table, anything. She wanted him now, and he was so ready—
“They put too much oil in the soup,” a familiar loud voice said. “But the fish was—oh father of mine.”
His mom and several of his aunts stared at them from midway down the stairs.
Esme and Kh?i tore apart at once. Blushing furiously, she smoothed shaky hands over her dress as the ladies finished descending the stairs.
“Chào, C? 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.
Kh?i ran a hand through his hair. “Hi, Mom, Dì Anh, Dì Mai, Dì Tuy?t.” Averting his eyes, he sucked his swollen bottom lip into his mouth. Oh sky, her lipstick was all over him.
“Anh Kh?i, 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, Kh?i.”
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.” C? 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 doors swayed shut, Esme lifted the tissue toward Kh?i’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.