Page 18 of Forgot to Tell You Something

I smooth my dress—and embarrassed ego—as Owen sets me back on the floor, my cheeks burning from my impetuous behavior.

Way to make the man work for it, Tally.

Should I be pleasantly surprised that the man wants to get to know me before shagging me, or mortified that he turned down a definitive green light?

One look into his silver eyes ends any negative self-talk. Owen radiates heat from every pore, all aimed in my direction. That, and the man has yet to stop touching me.

Not that I’m complaining.

That gaze of his is unnerving. It’s almost paralyzing in its power. “What are you thinking?” I question, my hands unwilling to behave. They’re drawn to his body like a moth to a flame.

“Now that I know how good your lips taste, I can’t wait to savor the rest of you.”

Holy hell, this man is basically a stranger, but his words aren’t a turnoff. Not. Even. Close. No, his words heat me from the inside out. “Too bad, we have to behave tonight.”

He rests his forearms against the wall, caging me in his embrace. Not that I’m itching for release. “What I said is that I want to show you an amazing evening.” His fingers trace the skin underneath my collarbone, dipping slightly into the cleft of my cleavage.

“With our clothes on,” I remind him.

“Me and my big mouth.” He captures my lower lip between his teeth, tugging lightly before tangling his tongue with mine. “What if I make you come without removing a stitch of clothing?”

That brazen question would have earned any other man a slap. But not Owen. Perhaps I’m the queen of naivety, but there’s something achingly honest in his touch. It might be part of his repertoire, but something tells me he hasn’t ever taken to a stranger in this manner before, either.

That brutal honesty spurs me on. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

He smiles against my mouth as his fingers trail up my thigh, playing along the edge of my g-string. “It’s a promise I’m dying to keep.”

Owen’s gaze meets mine. He’s waiting. He won’t do anything further without my consent.

Do I want to allow a stranger this level of intimacy? In a word—yes. Two words, actually. Hell, yes.

“Can I keep my promise, Tally?”

Two can play this game. I slide my hand down the front of Owen’s jeans, gulping at his sheer size. The man is a mutant. No one can be that large and be human. It’s just not possible. I lightly scratch my nails over his bulge, biting my lip in pleasure as a low groan escapes his throat. “Therein lies the issue. I’ll want to return the favor, and that will require you to lose some clothing.”

Our gazes catch and hold as the energy between us tingles. Changes.

I suck in a breath as his fingers glide across my clit. Only a thin scrap of lace separates his fingers from my skin, and I wish to Christ that I’d forgone underwear. His thumb circles my nub, and I close my eyes, resting my head against the wall, releasing a moan when his tongue slides along my pulse point.

But before my hormones run off with all vestiges of common sense, my mind barges into the moment. Always the party pooper, it reminds me that A) I hardly know this man and B) there’s a high probability he screwed Stefani against a similar wall in her home not even twenty-four hours ago.

My muscles tense as I try to shove my mind back into its cage, but Owen senses the change.

Tipping up my chin, he searches my face for answers. “Something happened just now.”

I tongue my upper lip, a nervous habit. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Did I do something to make you uncomfortable? I never want to hurt you, Tally.”

“You didn’t. I’m...fine.”

“I hate that word.”

“Which word?”

“Fine. It means you are anything but fine.” The corners of his luscious mouth curl upwards, offering a knowing—and smoldering—smirk. “Come on, talk to me. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what I did.”

Damn him for being so endearing. “You didn’t do anything. It’s me.”

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