Page 151 of Forgot to Tell You Something

“The case took that long?”

“No, but I figured I’d round on my patients, make some phone calls.”

Visit with Charlotte?The snarky retort sits on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back. No point poking the bear, especially when he’s feeding me later. “We have a few hours before dinner. Go back to sleep.”

“Come, lay with me.” He holds out his hand and my entire body throbs to go to him. “Just lay with me. I’ll keep my hands to myself…if you really want me to.” He pats the mattress. “This bed is far more comfortable, which you would know if you ever slept in it. So come on, consider it partial payment for dinner.”

I kick off my shoes before sliding under the covers. He’s not kidding. This bed is ridiculously comfortable. “What’s the remaining payment?”

“You’ll find out, won’t you?” Owen’s hand snakes around my waist, his body spooning me.

I try to focus on my breathing, instead of his proximity, but when his hand settles on my belly, his lips sliding against my neck, I lose all vestiges of calm. “Maybe—”

“Shush, Tally.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll be forced to tie you up, strip you down, and neither of us will get any sleep.”

He’s laid it out there, what he wants. What he knows I want. All I have to do is give him the go ahead, the proverbial green light.

But my heart and ego? Still stuck on yellow. I snuggle closer to him, my hand stroking Hecate’s glossy coat. “I’m shushed.”

He’s silent for a beat before I feel his lips press a gentle kiss to my nape. “I’m glad you’re home, Darlin.”

34

Tally

“This is so far beyond delicious, it ought to be illegal,” I state, scraping my plate clean. “Is there anything you can’t do? Cook, save lives—”

“Ridiculously good in bed,” Owen counters with a wink.

“Calm your tits, Doc. There’s not enough room at the table if you invite your overly inflated ego.”

He laughs, finishing his glass of wine. “It’s not bragging if it’s true.”

I roll my eyes, but the man is correct. In the sack, Owen is a god. An absolute god. That, and heisjoking—he’s one of the humblest men I’ve ever met. “Tell me about your emergent case.”

“Forty-five, no real medical history. He developed a left main coronary artery dissection.”

“Crap.”

“It all worked out. We stented the LAD and left main, then placed him on a ventricular assist device. The echocardiogram after the procedure showed normal left ventricular function. It was a good day. We got lucky.”

“It is so much more than luck. You are the most talented interventionist that I’ve ever known. You need to take more credit.” I can’t help it. The man never ceases to amaze me. He’s truly a miracle worker, but to him, it’s just another day at the office.

“Per you, there wasn’t enough room at the table for me and my ego already, remember? Now you want to bolster it?”

“That had nothing to do with your occupation. That was strictly about sex.”

He leans forward, clasping my fingers. “Are you saying that I’m not as talented in that area?”

I ignore his pointed question, offering him a fist-pump instead. “What I’m saying is that was some damn fine work today, Dr. Stevens.”

“Thank you. Can we go play doctor and nurse now? Time to improve on any skills that may be lacking.” The words drip from his mouth, his fingers running the length of my forearm. But it’s the heat, emanating from every part of him, that has my body near implosion point.

“As tempting as that sounds, I have to do dishes.” I stand up, collecting the plates.

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