A Perfect Ten (Forbidden Men 5)

So he frowned. He even slowed to a stop and turned to face me...without letting go of my fingers.

“This hand-holding thing is freaking you out, isn’t it?”

“No,” I blurted.

He crinkled his eyebrows, calling bullshit with a single look.

My shoulders collapsed. “Damn it,” I muttered. He was getting too good at reading me. “Okay. Maybe it is. A little.”

Instead of letting go, his thumb started up, tracing the back of my hand as he tugged me closer. “Why? What’s wrong with holding my hand? It’s perfectly respectable.”

“I know, but it’s...I don’t know!” I growled as I looked away from him, feeling like a freak. “It’s public,” I hissed and chanced a glare at him, silently warning him not to make fun of me.

“Public?” he repeated slowly.

“Sander would never hold my hand.”

“Sander,” he hiss

ed, his eyes narrowing as his grip tightened around mine even snugger. “The fucker who made you his dirty little secret? That jackass probably didn’t even talk to you in public.”

“No,” I murmured dejectedly, realizing he was right. “He never did. Only when no one else was around.” And the one time he promised to take me into public, he lied.

I wished I’d realized that before I’d fallen for his ploy and let him destroy such a fragile part of me.

“My point is...” I lifted my free hand and blindly waved it around before dropping it limply like the stupid idiot I was. “People don’t go holding hands when it’s just the two of them. They do it in public, as a sign to the world that they belong together, that—”

“Okay, wait.” He butted in, stopping me right there. “First of all, it’s not just something couples do in public. I don’t know how many fucking times I’ve caught my parents holding hands over the years when they thought no one else was around.”

“Aww.” A soft sentiment flooded me. “That’s so sweet.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” He rolled his eyes, because anything sweet and romantic that involved his mom and dad probably fell closer to an ick factor for him. “The point is, it’s not public. And it’s not some symbol to show others any such fucking thing. It’s just two people who want to touch and feel closer to each other. Nothing more.”

The emotion that had swamped me seconds ago returned, swirling through me with a heap of messy, emotional sop. I stepped up close to him and filled my nose with his scent, making my head dizzy with lust. “So, you want to be touching me when I meet your parents?”

His nostrils flared in return, and a tingling spread up my thighs. “I always want to touch you,” he murmured in a voice that made my nipples throb. My fingers from my free hand fluttered up and over his cheek. His eyes drifted closed before he sighed. “And right now, I’d be totally fine with sticking my tongue down your throat while you met them.”

I jerked my hand from his face and cleared my throat with a nervous laugh. “Well, I don’t think I’m quite ready for that. But...I will settle for holding your hand.”

“Thank God. Because I wasn’t going to let go of it anyway.”

I snorted even as a grin seeped out. He reached ahead of us to push open the front door of the restaurant and then held it for me to enter first. I wondered if being this close to his mother made him act so gallant, but the etiquette had me all giddy inside, nevertheless. I liked sweet, polite Oren as much as I liked naughty, playful Oren.

The hostess approached, but Oren waved her off, telling her he’d already spotted his parents.

“Where?” I murmured into his ear as we walked deeper into the restaurant.

“Right there.” When he pointed them out to me, I held my breath and glanced over.

They looked like...well, like parents. I was shocked at how normal and average and parent-ly they appeared. His mother was on the plumper side with short gray hair coiled into soft curls. And his dad looked just like him...with shorter, salt and pepper locks.

I leaned up and whispered into Oren’s ear. “Please tell me you’re going to look just like your dad in twenty years, because...wow.”

He cranked his head around to send me an incredulous glance. “What the hell? You’re checking out my dad?”

“What?” My face flushed hot, and I had to glare at him for speaking so loudly. “He looks like you...like the silver fox version of you. I mean, come on. Meow.”

“Holy shit.” He veered his gaze to the ceiling as if perplexed as to why he was having this conversation with me. “I can’t believe I’m dating a girl who thinks my dad is hot.”