Page 8 of Forgot to Tell You Something

As if he didn’t want to let go, either.

Just this once, I wish I could flirt. Bat my eyes and play the role of the damsel in distress, desperately in need of male attention. Men eat up that shit.

I suck at flirting. That’s why I’m the cool chick. I can discuss any manner of topics—from music to politics to sports—but feminine wiles? God neglected to install those on the same day he forgot my filter.

So, instead of pretending to be someone I am not, I let down my guard. I banter with Owen about the musicians of today and how they lack any real depth. Musically, the man is my twin. We adore the same genres, albums, and songs. An added bonus? The more I drink, the more my awkwardness falls away. Or the less I notice it, anyway.

When the band plays their cover of ‘Girlfriend in a Coma’, I let out a squeal of excitement. I adore The Smiths, and this song puts me in my happy place. As the music washes over me, I fall into the beat, forgetting that tonight, I’m not alone.

As the song plays, my gaze slides over to Owen. He’s not even subtle as he watches me dance, his eyes moving over my body, a heated expression on his features.

I’m grateful for the dim lighting as a flush rushes over my cheeks. “I love that song.”

“I can tell.” Now those dark gray eyes lock onto mine, but the smoldering expression remains. “After seeing you dance, I’ll have to add that song to my playlist.”

I know it’s harmless flirting, but my sex-deprived body lights up like New Orleans in February.

Once again, I lack a comeback. So much for the cool chick persona. With a sigh, I pop off the couch. I need a refill and now seems as good a time as any to regain my emotional footing. “I’m headed to the bar. Can you move your legs?” I request, sending his outstretched, booted legs a pointed look.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Owen nods, putting his hands behind his head. “What’s the magic word?”

“If you think I won’t climb over you to get to another beer, you are sadly mistaken.”

“Is that so? This, I might have to see.”

“Are you really going to make me climb?”Please say yes.

“It depends. How badly do you want the beer?”

I’ve never had this much fun bantering with a man. Owen is in a class by himself. “Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I hoist my leg over his, wishing in this scenario that I was a few inches taller. As it stands, I’m practically grinding against him. I lift my other leg to cross over him, but Owen widens his stance, and I collapse on his lap.

The beer bottle slips from my fingers, but Owen catches it in a move that would make Joe Montana weep. His other hand wraps around my hip, his fingers dancing ever so slightly across my back. “Sorry about that.”

Judging by the smirk on his face, the man isn’t sorry, but neither am I. In fact, I’m tempted to wrap my legs around his waist and lock him in my grasp, never to escape. Instead, I focus my gaze on the serpent wrapped around his bicep. Without thinking, my finger reaches out, tracing the lines of the tattoo. “Is this the creation story?”

Owen’s breath hitches as my nails drift along his skin. Good to know our proximity is having an equally unnerving effect on him. “It’s my adaptation of it.”

“Where else are you inked?”

Another catch in his breathing, his fingers sliding up my spine and pulling my body tight against him. His lips hover at my ear, his beard causing all manner of tingles. “Everywhere, Tally. My best work is in places reserved for very few people to see.”

“That’s a shame. I’d like to see them.” Holy shit, did that brazen remark fall out of my mouth?

His hands slide from my hips to cup my ass, and this time, I know it’s not an accidental slip. “You will, Darlin.”

Everything—the noise, the lights, the din, fall away as I hold his stare. I’m pressed against him, and it’s impossible not to feel the erection straining his jeans. I shift ever so slightly against him, biting my lip to hold back the grin when a low moan falls from his mouth. “Little girl, you’d better behave.”

“Or what?” Another shift earns a second moan, his fingers tightening around my ass cheeks.

“I’m going to do what I’ve wanted to do since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or overactive hormones, but my bravery suddenly knows no bounds. My hand strokes the back of Owen’s neck and along his scalp, feeling the smoothness of his skin. “What would that be?”

Owen doesn’t get a chance to answer my question as Stefani’s lilting voice cuts into the moment. “Lu, are you up here? Where are you?”

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