Page 33 of Forbidden Intent

“Oh my God.You should see your face right now.You look mortified.”

She reaches out and places her hand on my forearm, and it eases the hurt of the joke she just pulled.The last thing I want her to think is that I see her as some kid.

Her laughing eases and she slides her hand down my arm until she’s squeezing my hand.“Relax, old man.I was just teasing.I’ve never actually played mini-golf before.So you’ll have to teach me.”

I ignore the way her lips quirk up at the corners and her eyes soften.Or how much the idea of teaching her something else turns me the fuck on.

“Old man?”I’m tempted to tickle the shit out of her, but that would require putting my hands on her, and while I’m loving her touch and that she feels comfortable to initiate one, I’m still determined that tonight will be hands-off.“Just wait until thisold mankicks your ass in mini-golf.”

“Who knows?Maybe I’ll have beginner’s luck.”

“We’ll see about that.”

We get our putters and balls—pink for her, green for me—and head to the first hole.

“Ladies first,” I say, gesturing for her to go ahead.The first hole is a long straightaway with the only obstacle a small bump on the right side.She bends over and places the ball down on the patch of green turf with a divot to keep the ball from rolling aimlessly while you’re trying to putt.She lingers in that position—her ass on perfect display for me—for a moment longer than necessary and then stands up, adjusts her stance, and delicately taps the ball halfway down the green before it rolls to a stop nowhere near the hole.

“Well, shit.I really thought I wouldn’t have to hit it that hard for it to go farther.”

“Not as easy as it looks, is it?”

She turns back to me, a radiant smile on her face and her eyes sparkling with happiness.“It’s still early.I’ve got this.”

Her confidence is a turn-on, and it’s hard to believe this is the same woman from the garden the other night who seemed so incredibly lost and broken as she relived her pain for me.

I set up my shot and putt the ball, circling the hole but not going in.We move to take our next shots when she says, “So, tell me something about yourself.”

“Something about me, huh?Like what?”

She shrugs.“I don’t know.How about your family?”

My happy mood fights against my desire to shut down.“What about ’em?”

“Are you guys close?”

“No,” I say right as she sinks her ball.

Silence fills the air as she bends over to pick it up.Then she stands and watches me sink my ball while waiting for me to continue.

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

I let out a heavy sigh.I don’t like this conversation, but she also doesn’t deserve for me to treat her like an asshole.“There’s not much to tell.We’ve never been close—I was always the black sheep of the family—but I officially cut them out of my life a few years ago when my brother betrayed my trust and they took his side, even though they shouldn’t have.They call a few times a year trying to get me to see things their way, but nothing ever comes of it.They’re selfish people, and my life has been better off without them.Is that what you want to know?”

Her eyes drop to the green turf under our feet, and I catch her nibbling her bottom lip.Fuck, I just came off like an ass even though that’s not what I wanted.

Stepping closer—as close as I’ll allow myself without touching her—I lean down so we’re face to face.“I’m sorry.That came out harsher than I intended.I don’t like talking about them.”

Her doe eyes pierce my heart with their sincerity.“I get it.I mean, I don’t because my dad is great, but I can empathize.”

Fuck, tonight is going to be harder than I expected.I already wanted to touch her because she looks fuck hot, but now I want to kiss the shit out of her because I can see in her eyes that she understands, even if she hasn’t lived my exact experience.The few women I’ve attempted serious relationships with always pushed for more or made me feel guilty for not being close with my family, even long before I cut them out of my life completely.Tamsin’s not doing that.All those times in the studio where I thought she saw me—like truly saw me—weren’t just blips on the radar.There’s something on a deeper level that connects us—the same thing that calls to me until I feel like I’m going to go crazy if I don’t touch her.

But I’m nothing if not disciplined.I said I wasn’t going to touch her tonight and I’m not.

Not wanting to talk about my family anymore and taking the opening she just gave me, I ask, “So, you’re close to your dad?”

She smiles, her eyes softening with tenderness.“Yeah.It’s been just the two of us since I was seven.He had to learn to braid my hair, paint my nails when I begged him to, and play tea party with me.”

“What happened to your mom, if you don’t mind me asking?”

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