Forgot To Tell You Something: An Angsty, Later in Life Romance

“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 he is joking—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.

Owen stays my hands. “Dishes can wait. Come with me.”

My heart pounds like a freight train. I know it’s ridiculous. I’m hornier than ever before in my life, but our situation is so complex, so convoluted. That, and I look like I ate a beach ball. “But—”

“Relax, we aren’t playing doctor and nurse. I have something else planned for you.”

I trail him to the bedroom where he’s spread out a few towels on the bed. “Take off your clothes and lay down.”

“How is this not doctor and nurse?”

“I’m giving you a massage. I’ve seen you rubbing your shoulders the last few days. I know you’re hurting.”

“I’m fine,” I lie, the words racing from my mouth with the speed of a bullet train. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Will you stop fighting me on everything?” He purses his lips, offering a defeated shake of his head. “Go sit on the couch, then, and I’ll give you a massage over your clothes. You might even enjoy it. I’m damn good at it.”

Of that, I’ve no doubt. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to do this, Tally. I want to feel like I’m involved in the pregnancy.”

How do you argue with that logic? Answer? You don’t. You sit your ever-widening ass down in the living room and let this hot hunk of man touch you.

I know. It’s the definition of tragedy.

Owen settles behind me on the couch, his hand pushing my long hair over one shoulder. “Why are you being such a pain in the ass?”

“I’m not,” I groan as his fingers press into my sore muscles. “I’m a New Yorker. We have a strict rule about three feet of personal space.”

What a complete load of horseshit, and Owen knows it.

“Where in New York is there three feet between people?”

His hands knead my aching shoulders, and I release a small moan. He isn’t kidding about being talented in this department. I tilt my neck, giving him better access.

“What happened to your three feet of personal space rule?” Owen questions, pressing his body closer to mine.

“Be quiet and keep going,” I grumble, smiling at his chuckle.

“See? I told you.”

Yep. He told me all right. He spends the next twenty minutes working over every sore spot along my spine, and trust me, there are plenty.

Then, just when I’m about to melt into his body, demanding that his hands seek out the R-rated parts of my anatomy, he stops.

Without a word, he slips from behind me, flipping on the television and handing me the remote. He’s playing by my rules, just as I requested. But he’s also got my body all fired up and begging to break every single rule I’ve ever created.

“Thanks for the massage. If I was any good at it, I’d return the favor.”

“Practice makes perfect, Darlin,” he retorts, his gaze intent on the screen.

Then I see it—his foot tapping against the floor. Something has him agitated, and I think it goes beyond sexual frustration. I reach over, placing my hand on his knee and settling down the erratic rhythm of his foot. “I’ll gladly try it, Owen. Just don’t be surprised if it sucks.”

He smiles, his fingers closing over my hand. “There’s never been a time that you’ve touched me that doesn’t feel amazing. But,” he releases a long sigh, “that’s not the issue.”

“Oh crap, we have another issue? I was certain we’d reached quota on those.”

Owen chuckles, but his grip on my hand remains firm. “I have something for you. I’ve had it for weeks now, but I wanted to find the right time to give it to you. I wanted the moment to be perfect, and it’s been anything but recently. Which is totally my fault.” Those stormy grays connect with mine. “I don’t want to wait any longer, Darlin. I only hope you understand why I didn’t give it to you sooner.”

My head spins at his enigmatic statements. What in the world could he have had for weeks that required the right setting? The proper moment? I bite back a gasp.

Holy shit, is Owen referring to an engagement? He mentioned purchasing a ring and making me Mrs. Stevens that day in his office. Was he serious? Did he really buy one?

My mind reels. “You’re not making any sense. What are you talking about?” I stutter out, my body trembling with anticipation.

Owen stands up and walks into the other room, giving me a few moments to contemplate my answer. This hardly qualifies as an ornate proposal, but it is a proposal. Or it will be…if that’s what he has planned.

But when Owen returns, he’s carrying a piece of paper instead of a jewelry box, and I fight hard to swallow the overwhelming disappointment.

He isn’t proposing. He doesn’t want to make me Mrs. Stevens.

But for that brief moment, when I believed that to be his intention, all seemed right with the world.

Put on a smiling face, Tallulah. It’s not his fault you had china patterns picked out.

“What’s that, a lease agreement?” I ask, forcing a cheery smile to cover the fact that I want to dissolve into a puddle of tears.

“No,” Owen shakes his head, unfolding the paper. “When I visited your Dad, he gave me something.”

“I still can’t believe you went to see him. I really love that you did that.”

“It was that night after you met Charlotte. I had this whole evening planned, and instead, I ended up driving all over town, looking for you. I stopped at his facility, hoping you might be with him.”

The mention of that night dissipates any remaining glitter from my imagined high. “I made certain to avoid any place that I thought you might know. I didn’t want you finding me.”

“Fair enough, but it didn’t stop me from looking.” Owen clears his throat, and I see his hands tremble. “I told your Dad what an amazing job he’d done raising you, and I promised him I would take over from here. I told him how much I love you, and that he was going to be a grandpa.”

Tears fill my eyes as I realize that Owen got to tell my father the news. It was my one regret—he died without knowing his legacy would live on. “I wanted to tell him, but I didn’t get the chance. Wait, that was weeks ago. How did you—”

“I knew, Darlin, for a long time. That dinner with my Mom? I knew then. Anyway, he gave me this when I told him you were pregnant.”

I take the paper with shaking hands, a tear falling onto the aged parchment. “I made this for him in kindergarten. I can’t believe he kept it. I didn’t think he still remembered.”

“He remembered you. You were his wildflower. And now, you’re mine.”

I launch off the couch, throwing myself into Owen’s arms.

It isn’t a ring, but for my battered heart, it’s just as good. That, and the feel of his arms encircling me, offering the protection I crave, sets my world back to right.

“Thank you so much for this.” I pull back, wiping my eyes. “I really hope our child is more artistically inclined than I was,” I remark with a laugh, my finger tracing my six-year-old interpretation of a horse and buggy.

“It’s adorable. It’s perfectly you. I’m sorry that I didn’t give it to you sooner. Things have been so—”

“Shitty between us?” I finish his statement with a smirk.

Owen barks out a harsh laugh. “Exactly. It’s not an excuse, though.”

“You’re forgiven. This time at least,” I growl, adding in a wink for good measure. “Let me put this away, and then I have just the movie for us to watch. Who doesn’t love a screwball comedy?”

Owen sighs, running a hand along his trimmed beard. “We’re still watching a movie, huh?”

I pause, turning back to face him. “What else would you like to do?”

“I’ll tell you what else.” He frames my face, forcing my chin upwards. Those dark gray eyes thunder with feeling as he thumbs lazy circles on my cheeks. “I’m sick of this, Tallulah.” His breath holds the faint scent of alcohol, his words brimming with intensity.

I want to back away from him, put some breathing room between us, but Owen isn’t allowing it. I’m fairly certain I know to what he’s referring, but let’s be honest, I also thought he was going to propose not five minutes earlier. I will not read him wrong twice tonight.

“Sick of what?”

“Sick of pretending that I don’t crave you every time you’re within ten feet of me.” His lips glide against my hair while his hands curve around my hips. “I want to be inside you. I want to kiss every inch of you.”

At least my pregnancy brain was right on the money this time. “Do you?”

“You know I do. Now, the question is, do you want me, too?” His hands slide down my ass to cup my cheeks, pulling me hard against his erection.

He’s kidding, right? I’m soaking wet just thinking about it. “Is this your great seduction?”

Owen winds his hand in my hair, forcing my head back. “It will be as soon as you give me the go-ahead.”

“Doesn’t that take the work out of the seduction?” I muse, willing my heart rate to remain at a normal pace.

“Why don’t you find out? Tempt fate, sexy mama.”

“What did you call me?”

“You heard me. You’re a sexy mama.”

“I feel like an Oompa Loompa.”

Owen chuckles, his free hand holding me firm against him. “You don’t look like one. You’re adorable.”

It’s meant to entice me, but instead it reminds me of my ever-changing body. His words are ice water, pouring over my heated form. I throw up my hands, releasing a resigned huff. “That’s the problem. I’m adorable. Charlotte is statuesque, gorgeous, exotic. Need I continue?”

A look of understanding passes over Owen’s face.

About time you woke up and smelled the Chanel. 

He takes a step back, his hands folded over his chest. “Wait a second. Is that why we’re not”—Owen motions between us—“because of Charlotte?”

“Not entirely, no, but—”

He throws his hands up, shaking his head. In dismay? Aggravation? Agreement? I can’t be sure. “That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not,” I protest, my hands planted on my hips. “It’s a legitimate reason.”

“Like hell it is.”

“Owen—”

I don’t have time to finish my statement. Owen grabs me into a fireman’s hold and marches into the bedroom. He turns me over onto the mattress, straddling me, his hands locking my arms to the bed.

“Owen—” I begin again, but my words are lost when his mouth claims mine. His lips crush against me with a savage intensity. It’s our first kiss all over again, when his body waged a carnal assault on my senses. His tongue slides against mine as he steals every moan, his hands acting as handcuffs, limiting my movement. There’s no teasing in his kiss. This is pure demand, and I damn well better obey.

Pulling back, he catches my lower lip between his teeth, his eyes glowing with desire. “You stay. Don’t move a muscle.”

“What are you doing?” I ask, my eyes widening as he strides to his closet, pulling out two silk ties.

But Owen doesn’t answer, his gaze intense as he secures my wrists to the bedposts.

“Owen,” I repeat, my heart racing from a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. I know he won’t hurt me, but I’m also not ready for him to see my body in all its naked glory.

Apparently, he’s more than ready.

“Are you hiding this body from me?” Owen demands.

I open my mouth to speak, but his hand presses against my lips, silencing my words.

“The only correct answer is not anymore.” With a yank, he tears off my tank top, and for once, I’m glad I don’t buy designer duds. This one came off the three-dollar clearance rack. He pops open my bra with a flick of his fingers, and my breasts spill out into his hands. He pauses for a moment, his fingers teasing my nipples into hard peaks, and I bite back a moan.

But he’s not done. Not by a long shot. He slides off my shorts and tosses them over his shoulder, leaving me wide open to his visual inspection.

“Holy fuck, Darlin,” Owen murmurs, raking his bold gaze along every inch of my body.

His hands start at my shoulders, skimming along my breasts, now a cup size larger, down across my baby bump to my hips. His breath hitches as he palms my rounded abdomen.

It’s the first time Owen has seen me naked since I’ve popped. I feel beautiful, carrying our child, but I’m uncertain if Owen shares that sentiment. “Am I still sexy?”

“You’re so far beyond sexy. God, look at this body.”

His words stoke the fire smoldering in my core, and I crave his hands all over me. How the hell did I even last this long? “Bit more of me now than there was before.”

He sends me a sexy smirk as his tongue slides along the curve of my belly. “More to love, Darlin.”

I pull at my restraints, arching my back against him when he takes my nipple between his teeth, teasing the tip. “Can you untie me?”

“Not yet,” he murmurs, suckling my breast.

A shiver of delight courses through my body from the slick friction of his tongue. “Turn off the lights, Owen.”

“No way in hell. I want to see every inch of you.”

“But the ambiance,” I argue, knowing damn well how he’ll respond.

“Screw the ambiance. I’m going to watch your face as I make you come again and again.” He hovers over me, and I see all the desire raging in his face. “You are exquisite, Tally. Never hide this body from me again. Do you understand?”

I nod, captivated by his intense stare. I have to admit that his displays of dominance make me hot as hell. “Are you ever going to kiss me?”

“Everywhere,” Owen smiles, tangling one hand in my hair as his lips claim mine. His free hand drifts down my body, his fingers sliding inside me. I buck against his palm, moaning into his mouth. “Demanding, aren’t you?”

“You’re offering,” I murmur against his lips as his fingers pump into me.

“Damn straight. And you’re going to take everything I give you.” Using his tongue as a guide, he skims along my body until his head is between my legs. “I’ll give you one last warning,” he murmurs, his teeth sinking into the flesh of my upper thigh. “If you think for one second that I’m not enjoying this, I will hold you down and lick you until your pussy is raw from orgasms.”

“That’s the hottest threat ever.”

“I have no issue making good on that threat.” His tongue circles my clit, and I arch off the bed.

“I swear, I’m even more sensitive now.”

“You shouldn’t have said that.”

I meet his gaze, heady with lust. “Why not?”

“You’ve just given me free rein to torture your delicious body all the time now.”

“You wouldn’t really torture me, would you?” I counter with a grin.

Wrong. It’s delicious torture, but it’s torture, nonetheless. Owen teases me open, his tongue sliding along my folds, as I grasp at the ties holding me hostage. He is merciless, his hands cupping my ass, holding me fast as my entire body vibrates with pleasure.

With a jerk, I shatter, my climax ripping through every cell. Owen releases a heated groan, low in his throat, but he’s far from finished. His tongue continues to work me over, coaxing me to the edge and wringing spasms of pleasure from my body.

“Please,” I beg, my body throbbing with desire.

Owen drops a kiss on my thigh, before wiping his mouth on the sheet. The man is a god at oral sex, and he can worship me anytime. “Please what?”

“I need you inside me. Now,” I breathe. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

His fingers slide along my rib cage as I arch toward him, desperate for his touch. But Owen isn’t caving to my desires. He wants me to beg.

One hand slips between my heat, sliding along the slick skin, his fingers dipping deep inside me. He grips my thighs, hoisting my ass up and guiding my legs around him.

Those huge hands palm my ass, his thumb trailing down my crack, teasing my rim. I meet his gaze, further inflamed by the raw desire on his face. Anything this man wants, he can take.

“I plan on spending the rest of the night inside of you. But I’m not done playing with you, yet. All you can do is lie there while I make you come. Again and again.”

Owen presses his thumb inside me, and I buck at the intensity. “Relax into it.”

His free hand circles my clit, sliding through my wetness, as he continues to open me.

It’s a fine line between pain and pleasure, and I’m riding the hell out of that wave.

A throaty purr breaks from my lips, wordlessly begging for more, wanting him to go further. His shaft teases my entrance, and I whimper, desperate to feel him inside of me. Then, with a feral growl, he surges into me.

My hands may be tied, but my hips meet every thrust, moaning out his name. We come hard, fueling each other’s climax. Owen collapses onto his forearms, panting, his breath hot in my ear.

I turn my head, nudging his mouth to mine, my tongue licking the seam of his lips, begging entrance. With a low groan, he tangles his tongue with mine in a leisurely dance.

“How about you untie me now?” I murmur against his mouth. “Let me have a turn.”

Owen nuzzles my nose, dropping feather-light kisses along my face. “That was only round one, Darlin. I’m nowhere near finished with you.”