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

“Stop judging me, Hecate,” I order as I try on a fifth outfit. It might seem pointless, since the man I’m trying to impress drove my friend home last night, but a girl has pride. I want to look good.

Who knows? Even if Owen is off the table, maybe he has an equally hot friend, just for me.

“A snowball’s chance in hell of that one,” I mutter, watching my cat curl up on my discarded clothing pile, stretching her black paws in front of her. Apparently, my social life isn’t exciting for her, either.

No matter what, Owen is a gentleman. The man texted last night, informing me that both he and Stefani arrived home safely and inquiring if I’d done the same. I assured him I had, complete with a smiley face and a thumbs-up emoji.

I didn’t ask where he spent the evening. First, it’s not my business, and second, I don’t relish acute nausea at the idea of him nailing my friend. Repeatedly.

My phone rings, and I glance at the caller ID. It’s Stefani. I hesitate, uncertain if I’m up for an all-access pass to her escapades with Owen.

Finally, morbid curiosity wins. “Good afternoon.”

“There’s a marching band in my head,” Stefani groans. “Sorry about last night, Lu.”

“It’s fine,” I lie. “Are you okay?”

“I will be. I’m definitely not twenty-five anymore.”

“Preaching to the choir,” I chortle. Stef and I are only six months apart in age, and we passed the quarter-century mark over a decade earlier. In summary, hangovers hurt.

“What are you wearing tonight?”

Odd segue.

“To the concert?”

“No. To the dentist. Of course, to the concert.”

I don’t want to admit that I’ve tried on several outfits, particularly not when she may have spent the night with Owen. “I was going to wear jeans and a t-shirt.” Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I can still accessorize, so I fit the scene. Plus, I won’t look like I’m trying too hard. Or at all.

“No dice. Wear a dress and show off that body. You need to look smoking hot tonight, Lu.”

I shoot the phone a curious glance. Why in the world is Stefani upping my sex appeal for a man she likes? “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Wear your red dress. You look amazing in it,” Stefani prattles on, ignoring my question.

I stifle a laugh as I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the full-length mirror. My friend knows me well, and she’s right. I love the way the lipstick red swing dress hugs my curves. Besides, it’s fun, flirty, and short enough that it doesn’t hide my leg ink. “I actually have it on now.”

“Keep it on! Wear some sexy underwear, too.”

What the hell? “Why?”

“Just in case you have a Marilyn moment, and your skirt flies up…or someone makes your skirt fly up.”

My friend is still drunk. Either that, or she’s high on something. “The pink wig doesn’t go with the dress.”

“Ditch the wig. You want to showcase your natural beauty.”

“What if Owen thinks it’s too much?”

“He won’t. Trust me.”

She’s right. This outing is strictly platonic. Besides, I’ll hardly look out of place dressed in rockabilly gear at a rockabilly concert. “I’ll take your word for it. Will I see you tonight?”

“Hell, no. I couldn’t care less about Hedgecore. Besides, tonight is about you, Lu. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She ends the call with a kiss into the receiver, as I shake my head in confusion.

“I’m nervous, Hecate.”

My cat, for her part, yawns, looking mildly amused at my plight.

“I shouldn’t be nervous, but I am. I like this guy, and I’m not sure how cool I can play it tonight.”

Hecate lifts her hind leg and begins grooming, a sure sign she’s signed off this conversation.

“Thanks for your help, cat,” I mutter.

Owen is on my doorstep at eight o’clock sharp. Talk about punctuality. He must be former military because most men run on a timeline of their own design.

With a deep breath, I pull open the door, my heart catching in my throat.

I was mistaken last night when I thought Owen was gorgeous. He’s so far beyond that, I don’t think they’ve invented a word to describe his appeal. A tight black shirt hugs every inch of muscle, his lower half encased in a pair of dark denim. His head is freshly shaved and his beard newly trimmed, and I want to jump him and rip every stitch of clothing from his body. In his hands is a bouquet of lilies, the most impressive blend of pinks and oranges I’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” I manage, leaning against the door frame as I gape up at him.

I swear his eyes light up when he sees me. I must be imagining things. “Wow. I like the dark.”

“Huh? Oh, my hair. That was a wig last night.”

“This,” he motions up and down my body, “is beautiful. Wow, Tally.”

He’s repeating himself. Maybe he’s nervous, too. Likely afraid I’ll give him an inquisition about his escapades the night before.

I hold open the door, waving him inside. “Come in. Make yourself comfortable. I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding the apartment.”

“A little, but I finally figured out how to open the gate. I thought I might have to jump the damn thing.”

“My landlord, she worries about vagrants. The area has changed over the years.” I’m babbling about my landlord. God help me, I’ll never survive the evening.

Hecate approaches Owen, arching her back as he strokes her sleek, black fur. “Who’s this?”

“That’s Hecate.”

“Guardian of the Crossroads. She looks fierce enough.”

I laugh, tossing a toy in her direction. “Yeah, right, fierce if you’re a catnip cigar. I’m surprised she’s letting you pet her. She doesn’t warm to most people.”

“Maybe she knows I’m not most people.” Owen holds out the bouquet. “I know it’s not much, but I got you these. I tried to find the most vibrant colors, to match the most vibrant woman.” His gaze returns to my cat, but I swear he flushes under his tan.

“They’re beautiful. I never get flowers.”

“We’ll have to change that.” Now his eyes meet mine, and I’m so screwed. The things this man does to my body with only a simple glance.

I snap my fingers in a vain attempt to regain my emotional balance. “I actually got you something, too.”

Owen’s eyes widen with surprise when I hand him the book. “I’ve never gotten a gift on a first date before.”

“I guess it’s time to change that,” I blurt, feeling my cheeks redden with embarrassment. God, can’t I rent a filter for just one night? “I mean, I know it’s not a date, but I thought you might like this.”

Owen pages through the book, a smile crossing his features. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”

I focus on the book, flipping through to a section, aware of his gaze on me. “It’s like a Zagat for the underground, listing all the cool spots in the area. There’s even a section on tattoo artists and the punk scene. I thought since you’re new to Florida, this might be helpful.”

I’m not sure how much longer I can flip through pages while his gaze heats my body to scalding. “Anyway, enough of that. Let me grab my bag—’

Owen grabs my wrist, pulling me against him and tipping my chin up. “I forgot to tell you something, Tally.”

Great. Here it comes—the unwelcome but expected disclosure of last night.

“What’s that?” I inquire, plastering a smile that I pray isn’t too artificial on my face.

“This is most definitely a date.” Owen takes advantage of my slightly parted lips, possessing my mouth without permission, and setting off an internal inferno.

Some kisses are pleasant. Pretty much all the kisses I’ve ever experienced land in that category. I never felt sparks or butterflies or any other variety of insect, but they were nice.

This is not one of those kisses. The moment Owen’s lips brush mine, my body lights up like Mardi gras.

I push up on tiptoe, my hands circling his neck as I surrender to the weight of his mouth crushing mine. There is nothing easygoing about the way he lays claim. No, this kiss is a firestorm, his body daring me to disobey his commands.

Owen hoists me into his arms as my legs lock around his waist. We aren’t 0-60, we’re 0-1,000. My back hits the wall as Owen cradles my head from impact, his mouth refusing to release me.

I slide my hands along the lines of his chest, desperate for the feel of his skin against mine. I’m tempted to rip the shirt from his body and judging from the way his hands knead my ass, pulling me flush against his erection, Owen is just as desperate.

With a strangled huff, Owen breaks the kiss, burrowing his face against my neck. “We have to stop, Tally.”

“Okay,” I manage, willing my heart—and hormones—to settle.

He lifts his head, those stormy eyes hooded with lust. His lips graze mine as he thrusts his hips forward, trapping my body between the wall and his broad frame. “Because if we don’t stop now, I’m going to carry you to the bedroom, and we aren’t making the concert.”

My hands slide down his pecs, across his chiseled abdomen. “I really want you to do that.”

He smiles before nipping my lower lip, earning another moan from my sexually overheated mouth. “So do I. But first, I want to show you an amazing evening, with our clothes on.”

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.”

I hope the answer will appease him.

It doesn’t.

I change the subject with a sigh, praying I don’t wind up a solo act tonight with my vacillating emotions. “We should go. Don’t want to be late.”

“Not until you talk. I can stay here all night, breathing you in.” Owen twists a strand of my long, dark hair around his finger. “You have beautiful hair.”

“Jealous?” I smirk, running my hand over his bald scalp.

“This,” he retorts, pointing as his head, “is a choice. I actually had hair up until last week.”

“Hard to picture.”

“Want me to grow it out and show you?”

“No,” I blurt. Way too quickly, I might add. “It’s actually my kryptonite.” I giggle when his eyes narrow in confusion. “Beard, shaved head, tons of tattoos. It’s my weakness.”

“You’re like this with all bald, bearded men, huh?” He’s teasing, but I catch a hint of uncertainty flash in his eyes. It’s a pleasant reminder that I’m as unknown to him as he is to me.

“Oh, yeah. I hump their legs and everything.” His gaze widens, and I smile. Even the most beautiful need some reassurance from time to time. “Never. Most men don’t interest me. Stefani says I have ridiculously high standards.”

“But I fit the bill?”

“You created the bill. They broke the mold after you.” Way to go, Tally. Just vomit your unmitigated yearning all over him. He should be leaving in 3-2-

“I need to kiss that luscious mouth again.”

What a sexy, unexpected response. “What’s stopping you?”

“You still haven’t fessed up.” A grin splits his face, and he nips my neck. “I know what it is.”

“Do you really?”

“You think something happened last night between Stefani and me.”

Well, shit. “How the hell did you know?”

“I love that you actually answered me honestly.”

“That doesn’t clear up any confusion, Owen.”

“I dropped Stefani at home and drove back to Wicked Chucks looking for you.”

“You did?”

“I told you that I didn’t want to leave you last night. I meant it.”

“Stefani thought you were gorgeous. I’m shocked she didn’t proposition you.”

Owen’s grin widens. “It took about four blocks of me asking incessant questions about you for her to figure it out. She was the one who told me to go back to the bar and find you.”

That explains her insistence on my looks tonight. I’ll have to buy that woman a drink the next time I see her. Ride or die, for sure.

I’m Owen’s first choice, not the fallback, and that knowledge brings all my raging hormones racing to the forefront again.

“I love that you did that.” Standing on tiptoe, I press my lips against his. It’s a chaste kiss, or it’s supposed to be. It stays that way for about two seconds until Owen pushes his full length against my body, wedging me between the wall and his iron chest.

His hands knit in my hair as the kiss deepens. The intimacy is off the charts, and for once, I don’t run from it. I crave it. I crave him.

I break the kiss, my breathing heavy. “At this rate, we’ll never leave the apartment.”

“I love that idea.” He drops tiny kisses along my jaw, his hands wrapping around my hips. “Do you know how much I wanted to kiss you last night? How much I want to strip you naked and spend the rest of the night buried inside you?”

My last vestiges of resolve weaken at his heated words. Let’s be honest, it’s nonexistent around this man. “Owen—”

“How much I need you to know that this isn’t some play for sex? I’ve never reacted to another human being this way.” His forehead rests against mine, his fingers skating along my body.

We’re on the same page, because I’ve never felt anything remotely like what I feel with Owen. Hedgecore be damned, I’d rather spend the evening with him. Sans clothing, of course.

Then I feel it. The gentle vibration is unmistakable. “Someone’s trying to reach you.”

“Talk about terrible timing.” He pulls out his phone, glancing at the caller ID. “I’m so sorry. I really need to take this call. It’s about work.”

“Of course, go,” I reply, shooing him out of the room.

In a way, I’m glad the moment was broken before we wound up naked and sweaty on my bedroom floor. Okay, fine. I’m glad the moment was broken before I wound up alone the morning after a night on the bedroom floor.

I powder my nose in the bathroom, returning to find Owen once again petting Hecate, a confident smile on his face. “Good news, I take it.”

“Great news,” he replies, grasping my hand and twirling me around. “You’re my good luck charm, Tally.”

“Better keep me close, then,” I reply, grabbing my purse from the chair and pressing a kiss to his lips with my finger.

“Darlin, I don’t plan on ever letting you go.”

I flush as he leads me out of the apartment, but I can’t keep the smile from my lips.

Good, Owen. I don’t plan on letting you.

Wicked Chucks is far more sedate than last night, although it could be that the air is imbued with a festive spirit instead of anarchy and melodrama.

Owen links his fingers with mine, weaving us through the crowd to grab a seat at the bar.

Dan offers a knowing wink when he spots us. “Hey, Tallulah, aren’t you gorgeous tonight?”

“I don’t know about all that.”

“I do,” Owen answers for me. “You’re absolutely stunning.”

Dan nods at Owen’s statement, a nonverbal cue that he approves of his response. “Owen, right?”

“Good man. Nice to see you again, Dan,” Owen replies, shaking hands with my friend and ordering us a couple of drinks. He then turns to me, his hands skating under my skirt to press on my thighs. “Look at you, Tally.”

“What about me?”

“You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Is it wrong that I’m praying for a freak cancelation, so I can take you home?”

I’ve never encountered a man so blatantly sexual toward me. Okay, never one where I actually returned the affection, and all I can say is keep it coming. “What would you do to me?”

He crowds into my space, and the surrounding noise falls away, as his hands grasp my ass, pulling me against him. “To start, tie you up and kiss every single inch of you. I want to watch you come again and again…from my fingers…my tongue…and my cock. I wonder, how many times can I make you come tonight?”

“Can I play, too? You’re not the only one with a talented tongue.” Lord have mercy, my mother would roll over in her grave, hearing me say such delightfully dirty things.

Owen’s eyes blaze, his fingers digging into the meat of my thighs. “Is that a promise, little girl?”

I pull his mouth to mine, tracing the outline of those lips with the tip of my tongue. “Only if you’re interested.”

Dan sets down our drinks with a flourish. “Am I going to have to turn the hose on you two? I can feel the heat from here.”

My cheeks flame as I shoot him the bird, sipping my whiskey sour.

“Actually, I have a nursing question for you.” Dan snickers at my intense stare. He knows better than to be a cock block. “I don’t mean right now. Later. Once you two have cooled down.” He ducks away from the napkin I lob at his head, walking to the opposite side of the bar.

“Jackass,” I mutter, swinging my gaze back to Owen, who is studying me intently. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Talk to me, Darlin.”

“About?”

“What are your rules?” Owen asks, leaning his forearm on the bar, his other hand stroking my knee.

“Excuse me?” What in the world is this man talking about?

“Every woman has rules, that unspoken code they’ll never break.”

“I think everyone has rules. It’s not gender specific.”

“Fair enough. What are yours?”

The man is nothing if not direct. “No one’s ever asked me to state my rules upfront.”

“I’m not everyone.”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“Trying not to be,” he chuckles, his gaze never leaving mine as he sips his drink.

“I didn’t mean you. That’s a rule.”

“Agreed. Seems fairly simple.”

“Not as simple as you might expect. Don’t hit.”

That got his attention. “Not in a million years.”

I fiddle with the hem of my dress, as the conversation veers into unexpected territory. “That’s good because, with biceps the size of tree trunks, you could inflict some damage on a woman my size.”

His hand cups my face, forcing me to look at him, those gray eyes soft as a foggy morning. “I will never raise a hand to you, Tally. Unless it’s to spank that delicious ass of yours.”

I giggle, thankful for the segue back into banter. “Well, that’s an entirely different chapter of the rule book.”

“Glad to know it’s not off the table.”

“Only if you kiss it afterward.”

“Every. Single. Inch.”

There goes my pussy again, all aflutter with this man’s overt sexual teasing. Granted, I’m hardly holding back on my end. “Hmm, sounds enticing.”

“I’ll be sure to demonstrate for you later, unless you want to lock the door in the bathroom here.”

The nurse in me breaks into the moment. “Have you seen their bathroom?”

Owen laughs, finishing off his drink. “Good point. We can wait. So far, your rules are cake, Darlin. Anything else I should know?”

I stare into his light gray eyes. Such a unique color. Sometimes with a shadow of blue, other times with a hint of purple. Mesmerizing. Much like the rest of him.

“Not that it matters, but I don’t date doctors.” I shrug, sliding off the bar stool. “That’s it, the extent of my rules. I’ll be right back. Going to analyze the bathroom for cleanliness.”

Owen nods, giving my hand a squeeze before I walk off, but he seems preoccupied. Distant, all of a sudden.

Shit. Did I say the wrong thing? Before my mind can replay every word in our conversation, I shake off the doldrums. For once, Tallulah, do not read too much into it.