Compromising Kessen (The Vandenbrook #1)(47)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

“It’s not funny, Christian!”

“I’m s-s-sorry.” His voice shook with amusement. “It’s just that that means your first and only kiss was from your best friend! Poor Nick!”

The laughter continued longer than necessary. “Can I take off this stupid blindfold now?”

She felt warm fingers pull down the napkin and fought to control the smile pressing on her lips. It was hard not to smile in Christian’s presence, especially when he had laughter written all over his perfectly lined face. At least he had the decency to look mildly guilty for laughing so hard.

“So, Nick and me, huh?”

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, wiping the last traces of red sauce from her cheek. She probably looked a hot mess; of course, she had just divulged one of her most embarrassing secrets. Earlier in the week, she was surprised Nick hadn’t already spilled the beans, but no. Apparently he was waiting for the perfect time for Christian to find out she was basically a kissing virgin. Perfect.

Christian cleared his throat, still smiling. “Nick and I are the only gents you have kissed?”

She avoided eye contact and nodded, finding sudden keen interest in her fingernails, though they were impeccably clean.

“Kessen, look at me.”

She didn’t.

“Kessen,” he barked, grabbing her hand. “Look at me.”

She bit her lip and looked into his piercing eyes.

“It’s not a big deal. I think it’s cute.”

Kessen did not like being called cute. “Cute is what you call a dog with three legs. Cute is what you call your nieces and nephews. Cute is just a nice way of saying someone has a good personality. Cute is not what I want to be. I refuse to be cute.” She stood and started pacing. “I declare right here and now that I am not cute, and I will prove it to you by kissing the next three men I see. All three of them, Christian! And you can’t stop me. Not now, not ever! I—”

And then his lips were on hers. In the back of her mind she hoped she still didn’t have sauce on her face, but logic failed her when his lips were so firmly planted against hers.

It was a different type of kiss.

It was possessive.

She liked it very much.

Christian sighed against her mouth. “Kessen, trust me. You’re not just cute. You’re beautiful, hot, gorgeous … trust me. What I should have said…” He kissed her again, feathering his tongue along her bottom lip “…is you’re endearing, delightful, wonderful, sexy.” His warm breath neared her ear as he flicked his tongue along the base of her jaw. “Other men don’t deserve your kisses. I don’t even deserve your kisses.”

Her legs felt like jelly as she sunk into his arms. No longer hungry, she decided to prolong the kiss, but Christian had other ideas. He released her near her chair and pointed to her food.

“Eat.”

“But…”

“Eat,” he growled and held out her spoon.

She gave him an exasperated look and began consuming her food at a rapid pace. “How many more questions do we have left?” she asked between bites.

“More than we could get through in one night.” Christian continued to eat his food as Kessen ate hers. It was a comfortable silence. A silence she would normally try to break, except for some reason, this type of silence with Christian seemed almost normal and fun. It was probably the first time since meeting him they hadn’t threatened to cause physical harm to one another. It was a scary thought. It meant they were getting close, forming a bond, a friendship, something she hadn’t planned for or even thought could happen while in London. Yet here she was, hopelessly drawn to a Vandenbrook.

“We’re alone, you know,” Christian said.

She looked up and noticed he had finished his food and was now staring at her while she ate hers.

“Is that a problem? We were alone the first night, too.” She took her last bite and pushed her plate forward.

He put his elbows on the table and folded his hands, resting his head against them as if in deep thought. “Not like this, Kessen.”

She gulped. “I’m not sure I understand.” Which was a total lie, because she did understand—she understood all too well. The hum of electricity was constantly buzzing between them. When they were walking next to one another, she felt the hotness of his body against hers. And most of all, she felt pulled towards him as a person—a pull she would be the first to admit wasn’t present a few days ago.

Suddenly it occurred to her that she needed to make sure she wasn’t with him late tonight. Nothing good happened after ten o’clock, and she couldn’t be held responsible for her decisions with him if she was drugged with sleepiness.

“We should lock our doors!” she blurted.

“Mature,” he snorted

“No, really, Christian. I think we should, and we should also go to bed early, and close our windows, and no sneaking in, and no breaking in and—”

He held up his hand for her to stop. “You’re giving me a headache, Kessen. Stop worrying so much. I do have self-control, you know.”

Kessen raised an eyebrow in response.

“Come on! I do!”

She laughed. “I’m sorry. How many times have you snuck into my room in the past twenty-four hours?”

“Those don’t count,” he argued

She stared at him. “I’m not an idiot.”

He threw his hands in the air. “Fine. You win—something I realize you hardly hear enough, so spare me your little happy dance. Let’s just go into the study, finish this stupid game, and go to bed.”

She cleared her throat.

He rolled his eyes. “Me in my bed; you in yours.”

“Perfect,” she beamed. “But first you have to do the dishes.”

“And why can’t you do the dishes?” he asked in an irritated tone usually reserved for Duncan.

“Because you forfeited the end of that question; therefore, you lose. I win, and I want you to do the dishes.”

He gave her a blank stare.

“What? No response or rebuttal? Hurry along then, servant … I have some reading to catch up on.”

She waved at him and left the room, but not before hearing him yell something about the duke in her new book killing off the love interest.

She could only assume he meant it as a threat.

Half an hour later Christian wandered into the room with a look of pure joy on his face.

Chapter Twenty-Four