A Perfect Ten Read online

  Forbidden Men Series

  Price of a Kiss

  To Professor with Love

  Be My Hero

  With Every Heartbeat

  A Perfect Ten

  Granton University Series

  Fighting Fate

  Loving Lies

  Addicted to Ansley

  The Right to Remain Mine

  Delinquent Daddy

  How to Resist Prince Charming

  The Color of Grace

  Kiss it Better

  A Man for Mia

  Hot Commodity

  A Fallow Heart

  The Stillburrow Crush

  The Trouble with Tomboys

  The Best Mistake

  Let your hair down, Caroline, they said. It'll be fun, they said.

  I know I've closed myself off in a major way over the past year, ever since “the incident” where I messed up my life completely. It's past time I try to live again or just give up altogether. But this is quite possibly the craziest thing I've ever done. In a last ditch effort to invigorate myself, I'm standing outside Oren Tenning's bedroom, I just peeled off the sexiest pair of underwear I own, and my hand is already raised to knock. My brother would disown me for doing anything with his best friend, and he'd probably kill Oren. But if I play my cards right, no one will ever know about this. Not even Ten.

  Maybe after tonight, I’ll finally get over this stupid, irrational crush I hate having on the biggest jerk I’ve ever met. Or maybe I’ll just end up falling for him even harder. Maybe I’ll discover there’s so much more to my crude, carefree hunk than meets the eye.

  For

  Shi Ann Crumpacker

  and

  Alaina Martinie

  I started out with good intentions. I’m serious.

  That’s fucking whack to hear, I know. Me and those two words strung together like that just don’t mix. But in this case, I actually did want to do what was best.

  It was probably some stray brotherly vibe left over from days long past. I do still get weird when I learn a chick I’m with is someone’s sister. If I don’t know about it, I’m cool; I can proceed with my typical asshole ways. But if she has to go and mention it, I start itching with respect and shit, which ruins the wicked intentions I usually have.

  So knowing she was a little sister before I ever laid eyes on her doomed everything from the get-go. What’s worse, she wasn’t just anyone’s little sister. She had to go and be his little sister. But meeting her as he was carrying her from a bathroom where she’d been deathly ill all night was what really cinched it for me. She looked like death warmed over with her skin so pale and translucent, strands of damp blonde hair falling out of a loose ponytail, and thin arms limp with exhaustion as she wrapped them around her brother’s neck.

  After seeing her like that and listening in on what she’d told him had happened to her, I got all these freaking, pansy-ass reactions. The strongest was...what’s that one word? That thing that’s never applied to me. Oh, yeah. Protective. I turned protective. I wanted to yank her out of his arms, into my own, and kick anyone who came close to us right in the nuts.

  I was ready to murder for this girl.

  And that was before she even lifted her face from his shoulder and looked at me. Talk about a slap on the ass. I wasn’t expecting to experience a damn thing from merely making eye contact with some chick. But I did, and so much more. Her unforgettable blue eyes were bruised with sleeplessness, her perfectly shaped cheekbones were tinged with a sick kind of gray, and her lips were chapped until dried blood flaked off her delectable mouth. Yet even so, she was so damn beautiful in one of those hauntingly ethereal ways it stole my breath.

  Yeah, yeah, I’m being all flowery and dramatic and bullshit, but it’s fucking true, so shut it.

  I know what else you’re thinking. I’m Oren Tenning; I think a lot of women are gorgeous. What else is new? I can’t step outside my apartment without listing off attributes I appreciate.

  Check out her ass.

  Love the titties on that one.

  Hey, let me run my tongue over that lip for you, honey.

  Oh yeah, I’d do her in a New York minute.

  That one’s so hot I’d even do her again.

  But for me it’s rare when the appearance of any particular girl punches me so hard it leaves a hole in my gut and sticks in my mind.

  Caroline Gamble left a gigantic hole burning right through the center of my stomach. The place still singes when I see her, or when someone talks about, or when I think, or even dream about her. Shit, I’ve invested stock in antacids because my entire digestive tract is one constant, sweltering mess.

  I should’ve never been nice to her. That’s what really fucked me. I realize that now...now that it’s too freaking late.

  See, I always—always—behaved when she was around. I watched what I said. I treated her politely, all things that are out of the norm for me, yeah, but I didn’t want her to know what a creepy perv I really was. I wanted her to think I was a nice guy. Plus her brother would’ve kicked my ass if I hadn’t been perfectly behaved around her.

  But, fuck, did being nice backfire in a major way.

  The damn girl tried to kiss me. Twice.

  I know. The nerve.

  There I was, attempting to be good for once in my life. I was already uncomfortable and irritated with all the respect and protectiveness I had going for her. Add that to how wildly attracted I was and the fact that her older brother—my best goddamn friend on earth—warned me away from her on a daily basis, and what do you get? You get one tempted motherfucker, that’s what you get. How dare she put the moves on me when I was trying to play good despite the fact I wanted to fuck her two hundred ways to Tuesday.

  Worst moment of my life was turning her down on both of those occasions she tried to lay a wet one on me. Okay, fine. The second worst moment of my life. Whatever. But we’re not talking about número uno on my shit list. So, just drop those curious little thoughts already. We’re talking about that lost expression that invaded Caroline’s face the moment I said, “Don’t,” and “stop,” and “this is not going to happen.”

  Yeah, don’t. First and last time I ever said that to a woman.

  A light dimmed from her eyes, the smile dropped from her lips, and her shoulders curled protectively in around herself. I had never been so bothered about hurting someone as I was in those two moments. I think they crushed me more than they did her.

  Thank God she spun away and ran off both times (though there were—dammit—tears in her eyes) before I could react. I probably would’ve fallen to my knees and apologized, or hugged her, or some crap. And I definitely would’ve finished that kiss I hadn’t let her start. Who knew what would’ve followed, but I’m sure it’s something her brother would slaughter me for even thinking.

  I had to bring out the big guns after that. She was Noel Gamble’s one and only sister; I could not fuck her. No matter what. I needed to take drastic measures to keep her at arm’s length. I needed to...okay, fine. Fuck. I just needed to be me. Not really so drastic once you think about it, even though it probably seemed that way to her.

  So I let her have the full intensity of Ten. I stopped watching what I said when she was around, and I let all my base, disgusting thoughts bleed out of my mouth like I usually did. I stopped smiling at her, stopped paying her special attention with little courteous things like holding doors open for her or asking her how her day went. I completely stopped being a nice guy. I backed off and pretty much ignored her, unless I could think up something crude to say in her direction. I made sure to chase other women when she was around. And I felt like shit every night I lay in bed, unable to get to sleep, because I’d relive every awful thing I’d done to her that day.

  No matte
r how deeply my actions bothered me, though, it didn’t stop me from making her hate me and killing any soft feelings she’d ever had for me.

  It should’ve been easy to accomplish. Everyone who knew me understood how fast I could piss off a woman.

  But nothing about Caroline has ever been easy.

  That’s the curious thing about temptation. It festers and grows. You feed that bitch enough and she morphs into craving, and then craving turns into obsession. Pretty soon, nothing in your life is as important as that one thing you want but can’t have.

  I wanted her and I couldn’t have her, so I fed the temptation, I flooded the craving, I would’ve fucking nursed the obsession from my own tits if I could’ve. I made sure I got little doses of her here and there. Except something incredibly enlightening happens when you spend enough time in one woman’s company. You start noticing shit about her, little useless crap that actually begins to mean everything, like how she brushes the hair out her face—even if there isn’t any in her eyes—whenever she’s unsettled, or how she chews on the end of a pen during class whenever she’s listening to something that captures her attention. You learn all her different laughs and know what each one means. You learn what pisses her off the most, or what makes her the happiest. You discover how smart and witty and sarcastic she is, and that her mind is almost as dirty as yours. You see how passionate she becomes when she defends those she loves, and you start to fall. Hard.

  So, this is my Pathetic Loser’s confession: I am Oren Tenning, and I have fallen. Hard.

  Damn, I can’t believe I just admitted that about a girl I’ve never even kissed, much less fucked. But I’m almost out of tricks here. I know I need to keep on keeping her away, except I’m getting desperate. I want her so goddamn bad.

  It’s my own damn fault, really. I could’ve and should’ve turned her off of me for good by now. It’s just that every time I think I’ve finally done something that will make her hate me forever—something she’ll never forgive me for—the panic sets in. I can’t bear the thought of her hating me and never forgiving me. So then I have to go and do something to ensure her forgiveness.

  She always forgives me, too, even though she shouldn’t. But I love that about her, that sweet, beautiful, over-forgiving, dirty-minded heart of hers. And so I keep plowing down this destructive path, knowing good and well I’m running myself insane, and probably her too.

  Something’s gotta give soon or I’ll explode...most likely inside her.

  I just hope it doesn’t end up with me dead at the hands of my best friend.

  “Ooh, he’s cute. Caroline, don’t you think he’s cute?”

  I sighed as Blaze—and yes, she’d given herself that name—shoved me in the arm for like the tenth time in the past five minutes, almost making me upset the glass of cola I was nursing.

  “Yeah,” I said, not even bothering to check out the newest hottie she’d spotted. “He’s...adorable.”

  Usually, I was all for checking out anyone within my age range who possessed a Y chromosome. But tonight, I was anti-Y, so freaking anti-Y that I’d rather throw a vat of flesh-eating acid on the lot of them than check out one of their annoying, irritating, cute smiles, or asses, or packages, or pecs.

  Across the table from us, Zoey covered her mouth with her hand and tried not to laugh out loud over my lackluster response. I scowled at her and mouthed, “Shut up.”

  She had nothing to be moody about. Her boyfriend was frigging perfect. Gorgeous, considerate, sweet, faithful, Quinn Hamilton was exactly the kind of guy I should crave. But no…oh no. The idiot I coveted was a loud-mouthed, politically incorrect jerk who shoved his penis into any willing woman who batted her eyelashes at him.

  Except me. Me, he had turned down flat.

  Twice.

  Yeah, I said twice...because I was idiot enough not to get the hint the first time around.

  Wrapping myself with my own arms, because just remembering his rejections made me feel all ugly, worthless, and gross, I glared at my drink, wishing I had even a hint of a bourbon in my cola. But my brother was working the bar, so that was a no-go.

  Typically, his coworkers would slip me a little alcohol, but not if Noel was on the clock. No one crossed Noel Gamble where his eighteen-year-old sister was concerned, not even the biggest loud-mouthed, politically incorrect jerk of the century.

  “No, wait. Check him out instead. Now there’s a stallion I’d like to mount and ride.” Blaze literally licked her lips as she gazed hungrily across the crowded club. “Just look at how thick that chest is. And those arms. Mmm, God. You gotta know the rest of him is just as big. Dayum. I want to see him naked.”

  “Hey,” Zoey spoke up, her tone annoyed. “That one’s my boyfriend.”

  I glanced over to find Quinn’s hulking figure up by the stage as he talked to Asher.

  Ready for the evening’s performance, Asher had a guitar strapped to his back. He swept a long piece of hair out of his face before gesturing with his hands as he spoke to Quinn. And like Quinn, he was another amazing guy, a hot rocker dude with a voice that made your hormones hum along with him every time he sang.

  But he didn’t want me either, which brought up another reason I was so anti-male these days. The good guys who might actually treat me right stayed away, weren’t interested or already had a woman. The only asshole who’d actually taken a chance on me had used me, turned me into his dirty little secret, and then thrown me out like yesterday’s trash. Was it any wonder I hadn’t had sex in almost a year?

  Oh, hell. Had it already almost been a year? Not cool.

  I sank deeper into my chair as Blaze gasped. “What?! That hunk of walking orgasm is your boyfriend? Since when can you attract a guy?”

  “Whoa!” I sat up straighter, scowling at Blaze. “What the hell? Zoey could attract any man she wanted.”

  Zoey was my best friend on earth. She and I had come here tonight with Quinn to watch Asher’s band play. Blaze was merely a passing acquaintance I shared a couple classes with, who’d approached us tonight, probably just looking for a table to sit at.

  “But she’s just so...” Blaze motioned to Zoey as she made a sour face. “So...”

  “Sweet?” I guessed snidely, arching an eyebrow while my gaze dared her to say one more negative thing about my friend. “Beautiful? Smart? Loyal?”

  “Shy,” Blaze burst out as if that was something horrid. “Seriously, I don’t know why you hang out with such losers. You’re not like them, but I swear you try to be. You just need to live a little, Caroline. Find yourself a man. A hot one-night stand. I haven’t heard about you hooking up with anyone since we met last semester, and I know you’re not into chicks. I’m worried your poor vagina’s going to wrinkle up and dry out if you don’t give it a little pampering.”

  Zoey’s eyes grew big as she darted glances between me and Blaze. Unlike Blaze, though, she knew I had a temper and wasn’t afraid to use it, so she also knew I wasn’t going to let Blaze get away with saying all that shit unscathed.

  One freshly clawed face coming up.

  Sniffing up some oxygen into my nostrils, I nodded and sent Blaze a pleasant smile. “You know what? You’re absolutely right.”

  “I know.” She lifted a hand and motioned toward Quinn. “I say you take her man and show him what a real woman’s like.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Not about that. You were right about me hanging out with too many losers. I totally need to stop that shit. They’re such a drain. So...bye-bye now...you fucking loser.”

  Blaze’s mouth fell open. “What the hell? What’d I say?”

  Was she for real? “What did you not say? You just belittled my best friend and then told me to go cheat on her with her boyfriend. I don’t care who you are, that’s wrong, honey. And since when does a girl need a man in her life to be considered living? I don’t need some useless dick around to prove I’m somebody.”

  “Well, damn, you didn’t have to be such a bitch about it. I was just looking out
for you, Care.” With a huff, Blaze shoved her chair back and hopped to her feet. “I don’t have to take this from you.” Arching her chin up, she pulled her shoulders back and pushed her chest forward. “Only a girl who can’t get a guy would say that, anyway. You’re both losers.”

  As she flounced off, I snorted. Good riddance. I turned to Zoey to apologize for letting Blaze sit with us in the first place, but she was already sending me a regretful wince as she bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Caroline.”

  I blinked. “You’re sorry? About what? She was the one who insulted you.”

  “But she insulted you too, and I said nothing. If I was just a little more outgoing or—”

  Reaching across the table, I clasped her hand. “Zo, you are perfect just the way you are. And I don’t want you to change a thing. Besides, how can you listen to a word she said, about you or me? She’s headed over to hit on your man as we speak.”

  “She’s what?” Zoey twisted in her seat to watch as Blaze boldly approached both Asher and Quinn, but Quinn was the one she turned to. She moved in close enough to brush up against his arm as she sent him a flirty smile.

  Bouncing in her seat, Zoey clapped happily. “Oh, this should be fun to watch. I hope he’s really cold and rude when he rejects her.”

  I shook my head, amused. Ninety percent of the women I knew would turn jealous and insecure when another woman hit on her boyfriend and end up blaming him, but not Zoey. She was completely confident about her relationship with her man, and she knew Quinn would never cheat...which only made me feel worse about my own pathetic relationship status.

  Without my consent, my gaze strayed to another part of the bar where one dark-headed guy flirted with four—not one, or two, or even three, but four—women at once. He’d looped his arms around two of their waists while he said something to the other pair in front of him. When the two girls in front of him moved together and began kissing, he hooted in approval as if he’d asked them to do it and was pleased about getting his wish granted.