Page 19 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

Oh.

He gets out and comes to my side of the door. He opens it and extends his hand, and I stare at it.

“Just take it, Doll.”

Fine.

I slide my hand into his. His fingers wrap around mine, rough and warm and impossibly big. When I stand, he doesn’t let go. Instead, his fingers shift, threading through mine, and my body responds in a way it shouldn’t.

Dammit.

Chapter 7

Katie

Michael’s hand grips mine firmly as we walk toward Main Street. He still hasn’t said a word about where he’s taking me, which is mildly concerning. I mean, we’re downtown, so statistically it’s probably a restaurant and not a murder basement. But still.

Neither of us says anything as we walk, which gives me entirely too much time to think about the fact that a thirty-six-year-old, absolutely gorgeous, slightly stalkerish man is currently holding my hand.

“So,” I draw out. “You gonna tell me where we’re going?”

He looks down at me. I’m not super short. I’m five-six, but he’s so goddamn tall.

“I’m going to keep you guessing,” he says with a smirk. “I think it’ll be more entertaining.”

“Has anyone ever called you a jackass?” I say with my full chest.

“Yeah,” he says easily and gives a little wink. “But none as cute as you.”

“I’m sure.” I roll my eyes. There is no universe where “jackass” is the worst thing a woman has called this man. He’s a walking red flag.

We stop at a crosswalk, and he lets go of my hand and wraps an arm around my waist. His hand settles on my hip.

“Excuse you,” I say, stepping away. “Bold move considering I just called you a jackass.”

He tilts his head, and instead of saying anything, he slides his hands into his pockets, turns, and walks across the street.

“Seriously?” I call after him.

He doesn’t even turn around, and because I’m apparently a masochist, I jog to catch up with him.

“Oh, joining me?” he asks when I catch up.

He looks down at me with the most shit-eating grin on his face. It’s hot, and I hate that I’m falling for it.

Instead of answering, I grab his hand. “Let’s just go wherever you’re taking me.”

“You want to hold my hand now?”

I sigh loudly. I’m going to punch him.

“We were already holding hands,” I say. “You’re the one who escalated.”

“Doll,” he says. “I can’t help that you’re so touchable.”

Damn. That’s sexy.

I still rip my hand away. He laughs and keeps walking. Naturally, I follow him again, because I’ve already accepted my fate.