A Perfect Ten (Forbidden Men #5)(151)

But Oren didn’t laugh. He just gazed at me, his eyes bright with love and awe as he silently mouthed the words to the song. When Eva, Reese, and Pick joined in at the chorus, Oren tugged me closer.

“I love you,” he murmured. “Thank you for being here when I woke up and bringing me back to myself.”

“I love you, too,” I murmured back. “Thank you for coming back.”

“For you? Always.”





Five Years Later



In college, drinking games had rocked because they usually meant I could get some drunk chick to do me. Tonight, I wanted to roll my eyes and groan. Oh, wait. I had just rolled my eyes and groaned. But f*ck, I was an old married fart now. Okay, maybe not old, but definitely aged to perfection. Still, I didn’t need alcohol to get laid tonight.

All the couples sitting on the floor in a circle around a hotel ottoman were just as old and married as I was, too. So why were we bothering? There would be no random hooking up after this or me waking up in some strange place with vital pieces of clothing missing.

We’d all just wander back to our respective rooms and curl into bed with our significant others, then wake up before the ass-crack of dawn to catch early flights back home. So why were we playing a stupid f*cking drinking game?

“Oh, damn,” I grumbled, clutching my side. “I think I just popped my hip out of place from sitting on this f*cking floor.”

Gam kicked me, in the very hip that I was cradling. The f*cker. “Stop being a baby. You sound like an eighty year old instead of twenty-seven.”

“Feeling closer to eighty,” I complained, glaring at him as I rubbed the spot he’d kicked. “Asswipe.”

Next to him, his wife slapped a hand over her mouth and started giggling. The game had her completely lit. I still didn’t want to play, but okay, it was funny as hell to see Shakespeare drunk. It was her first weekend away from their new kid, and you could tell. The poor woman seemed starved for a little bit of adult freedom.

“Let me hold that for you, babe.” Gamble reached for her bottle of chick liquor, but she held it out away from him and leaned the rest of her body his way as she puckered her mouth for a kiss.

“I’d rather you hold me instead.”

“Ack! God.” Wincing, I lifted my hand to shield my eyes from the lip-lock that followed. “Really? You’re going to make me watch your porn after I’m already being forced to suffer through this stupid-ass game where Shakespeare’s cheating by sneaking drinks between each turn and these two can’t even participate?”

I hooked my thumb toward Milk Tits and Buttercup, who were both big and swollen with pregnancy, and therefore banned from drinking any spirits.

Buttercup rolled her eyes as she took a sip from her sparkling grape juice—another cheat, sneaking drinks. “Getting drunk isn’t the point.”

Frowning, I lifted an eyebrow. “Then what’s the goddamn point of a drinking game?”

“Reconnecting,” Milk Tits answered. “It’s been forever since we’ve all been together. We’re just trying to have a little fun, Ten. Gah. Don’t be such a fun hater.”

I sighed. Stupid games were not my idea of reconnecting or having fun. I thought we’d done a damn fine job of catching up at dinner before the concert, and I’m sure all the guys would’ve backed me on that...if they’d been willing to go against their wives’ opinions.

Whipped pussies.

Appreciating Caroline to hell and back for never making me feel as if I couldn’t voice my own f*cking outlook, I slung my arm over her knee and stroked the length of her soft calf. She sat on the chair next to me, and I was already leaning against her leg for support.

When her fingers burrowed into my hair in response, I almost purred contentedly. God, I loved this woman. I would honestly do anything for her, even leave our perfect nest in Lake Tahoe—where I’d eventually gotten another opportunity to apply for that job and accepted it this time, and Caroline had transferred colleges to graduate with a filmmaking degree—to travel all the way back to Chicago and watch Asher Hart and his band Non-Castrato in their first big performance at the Metro.

Okay, so maybe I was proud of the guy, too, and I’d also wanted to watch his concert, which fine, had been pretty kick-ass, and the backstage passes he’d sent us had been even sweeter—but I never would’ve admitted all that aloud. Instead, I had to piss and moan about it because that’s just the way I rolled.

But getting together with the rest of the crew in Pick and Milk Tits’s hotel room afterward to play “reconnecting” drinking games really did suck ass.

“Ooh, it’s my turn.” Buttercup was a little too giddy as she snatched a folded sheet of paper from the pile in the center of our circle and opened it. After clearing her throat, she read the message aloud. “I think this game f*cking sucks.” Tipping her face to the side, she sent me a dry look. “Ten.”

“Wow,” I said, unimpressed, “You figured out that one was mine.” Setting my hand over my heart, I fluttered my lashes her way. “You know me so well.”

She sniffed. “No, unlike some people here, I actually have a good memory. You said that very phrase aloud not thirty seconds ago.”

“Oh, you’re going to go with the memory bash, huh? That’s low, Mrs. Lowe. Just low.”