Read Online Almost Matched (Almost Bad Boys) by A.O. Peart - Free Book Online Page A

what do you like to do in your spare time, besides exposing your half-dressed self to strangers?”
    I glare at him and smack his arm again. “You will rub it in forever, won’t you?”
    “Forever is a very long time. You looked scrumptious enough that day to make me need a splash of cold water over my face.”  
    “You could have taken a cold shower. We have one in our office.” I scowl.
    “There wasn’t time before the meeting. And I didn’t see any bath towels.” He leans closer and pushes a chunk of my hair behind my ear. His fingers brush sensitive skin by my ear, and my stomach clenches in that delicious way that sends shivers down under my skirt.  
    My brain immediately joins in the fool’s parade and produces visions of naked Colin covering my equally naked body in bed, his knee pushing my legs open, his hands lifting my thighs up until my bent knees rest over his shoulders. Okay, Natalie, get your thoughts out of the gutter. I suppress a shiver and take a casual sip from my water glass. I have no idea why his touch affects me like this, but I will be damned to let him know.  
    “So you want to know what I like to do? Well, I work out almost everyday at the gym, run on the weekends, read, spend a lot of time with my girlfriends, stuff like that. And I knit too.”
    “Like socks?” He looks baffled.  
    “No. Like sweaters. And pretty scarves. Well, I knitted a Christmas sock once, so sure— socks . How about you?”
    “I don’t knit, but I’m willing to learn.” He sooo pretends to be serious about this. I have to admit, that’s good acting.  
    I learn that he plays guitar and piano and likes football. What guy doesn’t like football? He also knows how to dance, and that’s a really good prospect for a date. If there is to be another date.  
    We both have to work the next day , so I declare the fun-quitting time around 10 p.m. Colin doesn’t object, only smiles and nods in agreement. He calls a taxi, and when it arrives, he opens the pub door for me and holds it until I step outside. Wow, a gentleman. I like that. I actually like all those little things that many women frown upon. Maybe they feel robbed off their feminism-driven personas. But I don’t have that issue. I actually like when a man opens the door for me; or helps me put my coat on; or holds the car door open; stuff like that. Maybe it is old school, but that’s just the way I am—a helpless romantic. Which doesn’t mean that if a guy does something absolutely nasty to me I wouldn’t have the nerve to punch him in the face. Twice.  
    Right before the taxi stops at my apartment building, I turn to Colin and say, “It was really nice. Thank you. I had a good time.”
    He takes my hand in his, turns it so my palm faces up, and kisses it. Long. God, it is a long kiss, and my insides turn to mush. My vagina sings Hallelujah!, and my lungs temporarily forget what their major function is, until I turn red in the face and realize I’m holding my breath.  
    Still bent over my hand, Colin looks up at me. One corner of his mouth lifts very slightly. Ohmigod, he looks like some freakin’ god of lust. Eros, Himeros, Pothos, Peitho—how the hell do I even remember all those naughty Greek gods’ names right now?  
    “Can I call you sometime?” he whispers.  
    Can you? Yes. Yes! Do you really need to ask? “Sure.” I smile sweetly. “You’ve got my number.”
    When the taxi stops at my destination, Colin still holds my hand. I squeeze it, and he lets go. He jumps out of the vehicle, runs around the back, and yanks the door open for me. No way! He really does. My mouth usually has a mind of its own, so it opens now but doesn’t say anything. I clamp it shut, scolding my brain for not controlling the situation as it’s outlined in its job description.  
    Colin hugs me lightly, and my pulse reaches the red zone. Hell on wheels, either my hormones are out of whack, or that man is irresistible to me. I don’t recall ever being