Page 118 of Forgot to Tell You Something

“Charlotte seated Dr. Jessop and me in Siberia. Likely a smart move, since we are known for causing trouble.”

“You’re trouble, all right. The best kind.”

He’s too close, and his hands haven’t left my body since he joined me on the balcony. “I told you I’d be here, Owen.”

The familiar strains of another standard float out to the balcony and Owen holds up his hands, gesturing to me. “Dance with me.”

“I can’t dance. You know that.”

“Just follow my lead. Come on.”

“No, Owen. I’m not following that contest worthy number of yours.”

“You’re not following anything. I want to dance with you, Tally. Only you.”

I take a step back. “Thank you, but no. I can’t.”

No is not a word in Owen’s vocabulary. He grasps me around my waist, pulling me against him once again. “There’s no one here but you and me.”

I slide my hand onto his arm, acutely aware of the clumsiness of my steps. But if Owen notices, he says nothing. Hey, I did warn the man.

“How is it possible?”

“For me to be this bad a dancer? It takes a ton of talent.”

“You get more beautiful every day, Tally. Every time I see you, you’re more gorgeous than the last time.”

I’m not sure why his words make me blush. Owen has told me I’m gorgeous more times than I can count—or fathom. “You need your eyes checked, then. I had nothing else to wear. This was the best I could do.”

“I told you, you’re beautiful. Although I’d much prefer you naked in my bed. Or naked right here. Just as long as you’re naked.”

Time to veer away from the sex talk. It’s a dangerous place. My body has no defenses against Owen when his salacious words spark up every cell. “I don’t fit in here, Owen.”

He releases a harsh laugh. “Darlin, I don’t fit in here, either.”

“You look like you do. You and Charlotte fit so well together.”

He shakes his head, those stormy orbs focusing on me with fierce intensity. “I don’t fit well with her. I never did. I fit well with this tiny, amazing woman who is exquisitely beautiful, wickedly smart, and the most amazing lover I’ve ever known.”

“I hate her,” I banter, gifting Owen a smile.

“I love her, more than life itself.”

I tear my gaze away. I want so much to say it back, but I can’t. That’s not our arrangement any longer.

“I sometimes wonder if she meant what she said when she told me she loved me. I haven’t heard her say the words in weeks.”

“Owen—”

He chuckles, but it lacks mirth. “Let’s get out of here.”

“You can’t leave.”

“Who says? Do you actually want to stay?”

“Not at all, but I didn’t want to come, either.”

“Then let’s go.”

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