Page 62 of Forgot to Tell You Something

I feel the tears back up in my eyes. “That’s the funny thing about dreams.”

“What, Darlin?”

“You always wake up.”

He rests his chin on my shoulder, his grip tightening around me. “I’m going to make your waking life better than any dream. Just you wait and see. But first, I need to take you home.”

That’s an abrupt topic change. “Take me home?”

“I’m going to make love to you for the rest of the night.”

“Was that your wish?”

“You’re my wish, Darlin. Every facet of you. You’re it for me. The first shooting star? For you to forgive me. The second one? Your heart.”

We spend the next thirty minutes holding each other, basking in the comfort we always find together. I could stay here forever, but eventually someone will find us. “We better get going.”

Owen nods before helping me to my feet. “Can we stop by my office first?”

Since I’ve never been there, curiosity wins. “Sure.”

We step into the elevator, his hand still clasping mine. There’s not really anyone walking the halls at this hour, but it’s certainly not a friendly gesture. “It’s down here.”

He unlocks the door, flipping on a small table lamp. It resembles an English study, complete with a leather couch and a huge wooden desk. Compared to his office, mine looks like a closet. Come to think of it, my officeisa closet.

I hear the door lock and turn to him, eyes wide. “What did you need in here?”

I don’t get the opportunity to say more as his lips crash against mine and he hoists me into his arms. I could fight the kiss, but who the hell am I kidding?

I moan into his mouth, his hands tightening around my ass as I wrap my legs around his waist. He knocks the hat off my head as my fingers dig into his shoulders. I can’t get close enough. Even if I rip every shred of clothing from his body, we’re still too far apart.

It’s fairly apparent, as Owen paws off my shirt, that he feels the same way. He deposits me on the large table, wasting no time in pulling off my sneakers and jeans.

“Owen, we can’t—”

“Bullshit,” Owen hisses, ripping my underwear from my body and burying his face between my legs. He bites my thigh with enough force that I jerk my eyes open, meeting his gaze. “Do not stop me, Tally. If you do, I’ll tie your sweet ass up. Understood?”

I love when Owen takes control.

A sound, somewhere between a moan and purr, escapes my mouth as his tongue teases me open. I’ve never known a man so talented at touching me, or relentless in his pursuit.

My hands grip his scalp as his tongue lashes my clit, his hands holding my legs open. There’s a roughness in his touch, as if he’s warning me not to leave him again.

It’s the most beautiful form of punishment.

“Tell me who this body belongs to, Tally. Say my name,” Owen demands, his fingers digging into my soft flesh.

“Owen,” I murmur as my hips arch up toward his talented tongue.

“Louder.” He takes my clit between his teeth, torturing it with gentle nips.

I’m writhing on the table, holding his head in place as he brings my body to boiling point. “Fuck, Owen.”

His thumb teases me open, pushing inside me.It’s too much. The array of feelings is dizzying, and my body explodes, bucking against him while I scream his name.

I’m a quivering mess, my body still convulsing, as Owen fetches a damp towel from the private bathroom. He cleans me up, depositing kisses along my lower abdomen and thighs.

“I’ll replace the underwear.”

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