CHAPTER 3

A FORBIDDEN KISS

Selena. 

My mama used to tell me as a child—and even as an adult—that I say things the way they are. 

That's because I'm a firm believer that things that are walked around will only end up being a mess. 

So, most times I blurt out things I should seriously consider keeping to myself. 

Sue me. 

I told my ex's dad that I'm no longer with his son. 

A man who isn't even on good terms with his son. 

Could I have dodged telling him this? 

Maybe. After all, he'll never see me after today, and James won't even care if his dad knows about his relationship status or not. 

Fuck, thinking about James still hurts. 

I hate the douche bag so much for what he did to me, that I want to wring my own hair out in annoyance. Six months of my life to not feel a connection anymore? 

But the man in front of me is frowning, a deep frown that mars his excellent features. 

I feel like straightening his mouth, adjusting those frown lines. 

I must be more drunk than I gave myself credit for if I'm having thoughts like this. 

"Shit, I'm sorry. Said the wrong thing, didn't I?" His voice sounds even more soothing, and a small part of my brain—the one that's not so drunk—realizes that I might be leaning into him. 

He smells so good. 

I clear my throat. "Yeah, I uh—I mean, no. It's fine really. We were no longer compatible. It's no big deal. Relationships end all the time. I'm fine."

A good sign that I'm lying is my rambling. 

Good thing the man doesn't know me well enough to tell. 

Still, he peers at me with sympathy. "I know my son. He can—well let's say sometimes he isn't the perfect person, and seeing you here, I can tell you must be really hurt."

Okay. 

I didn't expect that. 

Did he just read me like an open book? 

I inhale huge gulps of air, trying to steel myself to not cry. I will not cry. I came here to try and feel good. Forget James, he's a dick. 

So, I won't be counterproductive and start crying. I slam my hand on the table playfully, and throw the drink in my hand down my throat. 

Before I can put a reign on my thoughts, I blurt out. "Enough with depressing stuff, I'm here to have fun. Let's dance." 

Ethan raises his brow in surprise, but doesn't stop me when I drag his hands—his really strong firm hands—and pull him towards the part of the club that actually has people dancing in it. 

It's a slow jazz that's playing. Except, when I get to the dance floor, I suddenly realize how ridiculous this is. 

I stare at Ethan's hands, that I'm no longer holding, and blink rapidly. 

Shit, what do I do? 

Am I really going to dance with this man? James' dad? 

But it's already too late. I was desperate to change the topic, so I suggested dancing. I have to stick by my decision. 

With this resolve in mind, I pull the larger man closer to myself, and wrap my much smaller hands around his neck. 

I feel his body stiffen, when I join my body closer to his, and try to sway to the music. 

Maybe I'm too inebriated to care, or maybe I'm scared to actually admit just how hurt I am to the man whose son broke my heart, but I don't stop swaying to the music. 

Slowly, Ethan actually begins to away with me, and before long we're going in the same rhythm. 

His rough stubble rubs against my cheek, as he leans closer to my ear. "I know I'm not the perfect person to say this, but you can talk to me."

The hot breathe on my ear makes me dizzy for a while, and I barely understand what he's just said. 

But when I do, I step back away from his body, consciously aware how close we've come to each other. 

"Why?" 

He gives me a puzzled look. "What?" 

Gosh, I love his voice. 

I clear my throat again. "Why do you want me to talk to you? Why are you trying to comfort me? Why?" 

It's a silly question. 

He may just be a nice man. Being related to the jerk who hurt me doesn't make him a monster too, but I need to know why. 

"Because I—I kind of feel a bit responsible."

Huh? 

That's the strangest answer he could give. Our breakup had nothing to do with him. 

As if sensing my confusion, he continues. "He's my son, and things have been tough between us for more than a while. I blame myself for not raising him well. I was always too busy with work, and then—" 

"It's not your fault." My voice is so soft, he barely hears me. 

"Still, I could have done better as his dad."

I look up at him, into those swirling gorgeous brown pools. It’s good that James didn't take his dad's eyes. They are really pretty eyes. 

"No matter what you had done, he still made the decision to be the way he is. Please don't blame yourself." 

Somehow, this man feeling responsible for my ex's loss of connection grates on my nerves. 

Ethan is silent for a while, just staring at me, and soon I begin to feel a little self conscious. 

"My son was lucky to have you, Selena." His voice is a low sensual rumble, and my pulse spikes. 

I bite my lip slowly, meeting his eyes, before dropping mine. "Uh, thank you." My cheeks must be burning a bright red by now. 

A new song suddenly begins to play, and it's even slower than the former—low and sexy. A song definitely for the couples in this bar. 

I'm about to break off our dancing when Ethan wraps his arms around me tighter, bringing us closer. 

"Ethan?" I murmur, hoping it doesn't come out too breathy. 

This is my ex's dad, why am I feeling this way around him? Why do I feel like dragging him off this dance floor, and pressing my lips to his. 

I'm definitely not drunk enough for that, am I? 

But why should I stop myself anyway? 

I'm single, and he's single too—I think—or he wouldn't be slow dancing with me. 

Maybe he's just trying to console you, Selena, my  voice of reason whispers. 

I shake it off. 

Instead, choosing to stand on my tip toes, and press my body even closer to his. 

His eyes widen by a fraction when he sees me

approaching, but before he can say anything, I press my lips to his.