Chapter Twenty-Eight
Josh
“Thank you. And you’re the best, Akiko.” Klein sounds absolutely sober. No slurring of words, no hesitation in speech. But she also has no balance or dexterity.
She seems totally unaware of the fact that she’s pressed against me, with my arm looped around her waist to keep her upright as we move toward the car at the end of the dinner.
Ares, Lareina and Bryce shoot us amused looks. Grandma and Dad nod, while Aunt Jeremiah smirks, her eyes knowing. Akiko beams as usual, her demeanor soft with affection.
I always thought Klein’s smile was gorgeous, but the one right now?
Stunning with unguarded warmth and happiness.
She stumbles a little as she waves at everyone like a newly crowned Miss U.S.A.
I tighten my hold, and her cheek rests on the inside of my shoulder.
She’s so warm and soft, and she smells amazing, like woman, flowers and aromatic plum wine.
Although its sweetness and smooth finish make it very drinkable, the plum wine Akiko serves is stronger than it looks, and Klein had one—or maybe two—too many cups.
I manage to get her into the car and start driving home.
Five minutes in, she begins to sing. No matter how charitable I want to be, singing isn’t her forte.
She’s slightly off-key, and when she can’t seem to recall the lyric, she just makes up some nonsense words to fill in.
Still, I can’t complain. She sounds deliriously joyful, and her mood is contagious.
I love the way her eyes crinkle and the little wagging motions she does with her fingers to the beat.
Smiling despite myself, I join in.
“Hey, you sound good!” she says, eyebrows rising.
“Of course. I used to sing a cappella in college.” I say it with a healthy dose of mock arrogance.
“Really? I didn’t realize. I thought you did something like…debate or something in college to prep for your legal career. Did Bryce do it, too?”
“Nope. Just me.” I wink. “I have many hidden talents.”
“I bet, and I’d love to discover them all,” she says with a grin.
“We’ll have plenty of time.” Plenty of time? It’s just six months, I think. Then again, we can always extend it.
She laughs. “Now it’s going to sound even better with both of us.”
And we sing all the way home. She knows quite a few songs—even if not every word—and I love the way her face glows as the freeway lights flash past.
When we reach the garage and the engine dies, she lets out a soft sigh. “Thank you for the dinner. Your family is wonderful. I loved it.” She fumbles with the seatbelt, but has trouble unbuckling. “Huh. Wonder if it’s broken.”
“Or maybe you’re just drunk,” I say.
“I am not drunk.” She makes sure to enunciate every word with precision.
“Of course not.”
She purses her mouth, making it look eminently kissable. “Who should we ask?”
“About what?”
“The broken seatbelt! Akiko said if I want something, all I have to do is ask.”
I try not to laugh. She’s so adorably inebriated. “The God of Cars?”
She nods. “Hey, God of Cars, can you fix the seatbelt?” she says, looking up at the roof of the vehicle.
I reach over and click her seatbelt loose, then rest my elbow on the edge of her seat, my torso still turned toward her. “Ask, and ye shall receive.”
Laughing softly, she drops her gaze to my face, her beautiful violet eyes dark in the night as they search mine. Her mouth softens. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” I enjoy catering to her little whimsy. It isn’t every day I see her this relaxed with her guard down. My eyes stay on hers. They’re so bright, so open. They pull me in deeper, and I want to drown in them, become one with her.
Jesus, get a hold of yourself.
“We should go inside,” I say hoarsely before I cross a line I shouldn’t.
“Okay. Open sesame!”
Shaking my head, I climb out of the car. She fumbles with the handle, so I open the door and help her out. She’s even less steady now, her feet tangling.
“The ground is quite uneven,” she declares, pushing her hair out of her face. “Who should I ask about making it better?”
“How about me?”
“You?” She blinks slowly. “Can you make the ground even now?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
I put her arm around my neck and pick her up. She gives a soft yelp and clasps her hands to hold on to me. The move pulls her so close that her breasts are crushed against my chest. Heat sears through me, my cock perking up.
Not now. At least not so much that it pokes her.
She gazes up at me, her eyes wide. “I’m too heavy,” she whispers.
I tighten my arms, enjoying the solid feel of her as I carry her into the house. “If I wanted to hold cotton balls, I would. I want to hold you.”
“What if you hurt your back? I need to lose, like, forty pounds.”
“Won’t happen, Ai—Ailee Klein.” I catch myself before I call her Ai-chan because she feels so lovely and sweet in my arms. “And you don’t. You’d turn into a stick.”
She nods, taking me seriously. I like how alcohol has mellowed her out, made her more pliable and honest about what she wants.
Love it that she changed her mind so quickly about the forty pounds—as if!
—without arguing. I want her to see that she’s wonderful the way she is.
There’s nothing she should feel compelled to change about herself.
“Oh, oh, wait!” She looks up as we get to the stairs. “Who do you think I should ask about my missing underwear? God seems a bit…too high on the pay grade.”
“The ghost that took them?” I say smoothly, hoping she didn’t notice the slight flexing of my fingers.
“They were my favorite. Where did it go with them?”
“To hell?” I quip, feeling like I might just go there myself for lying to her when she’s looking at me with such trust.
“No. It’s just a pair of panties. Let’s not be so mean.” She sighs. “I just want them back.”
“Maybe you can ask to have another pair delivered. Or better yet, I’ll get you some.”
She laughs, the pink in her cheeks getting rosier.
“I’m serious.”
She stops laughing, but her mouth remains curved. “This is so nice. To be able to ask and be confident that the answer is more likely than not a yes.”
I open the door to her room, then place her gently on the bed.
Her hair spreads around her like a cloud, and she looks like an angel, eyes glazed and mouth pouty.
I should pull away and leave, but my palms stay rooted to either side of her pretty, flushed face.
I can’t tear my gaze from her. My heart beats faster.
My mouth dries as the blood boils in my veins.
I want so badly to kiss her, to see the violet of her eyes turn dark with desire.
She sighs, her eyes growing slightly droopy. “Coco told me you’ll be done with me if we sleep together. Even once. What do you think about that?”
“She’s deluded. I don’t think I could ever be ‘done with you.’”
Klein purses her lips. “I think you’re mistaken there.”
What? “Why?” I ask, aghast that we went from having Klein accepting that the world is much kinder and accommodating than she expected to this.
“’Cuuuuz… You never tried anything. With me.” Klein pouts.
My dick is instantly, fully erect. Prove her wrong. Try something—now.
No, no. Shut up. She’s really drunk. “I kissed you.”
“And stopped. Was it…not good?”
I scowl. It was the best kiss I’ve ever had.
Before I can clarify, she lowers her gaze and continues, “Or was it because you could tell I have trouble with orgasms?”
I go still for a second, then cock an eyebrow. “Uh…I’m sorry?” Where did that come from?
“No, I mean, I have them. But they aren’t very good. I usually fake it to spare the guy’s ego. And also because I don’t want him to keep going because it’s frustrating and it makes me want to take charge, but then… That’s weird for me, right?”
I stare at her. Sympathy and triumph tug at me from opposite directions.
It’s criminal that a woman as beautiful and sexy as Klein has never had a great orgasm.
But I want to crow that I’m going to make her feel damn good.
“You’d better not fake with me. And you can take charge all you want—I won’t mind. ”
“But wouldn’t that make me kind of slutty?”
I narrow my eyes. Where’s this coming from? Her shitty family, who’s done everything to bring her down? Her crappy exes? Either way, it’s infuriating. “No. I think it’s hot as hell.” I place a firm kiss on her forehead.
Her eyelashes flutter as she raises her eyes to meet mine. “Why are you stopping?” she whispers.
“Because, my dear Klein, you are adorably drunk.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. If you were sober, you wouldn’t have been so open and forthcoming.
” I kiss the corners of her eyes. The soft vulnerability shining in their depths sends tenderness rippling through me.
A need to turn that self-doubt into confidence and make her smile swells up inside.
And the words roll from my mouth before I even really know it.
“Ask me again when you’re sober, and I’ll make it so good you won’t be able to go a day without tearing my clothes off. ”