16. The Perfect Gentleman #3
The second he takes to answer me feels like an eternity. My whole heart hanging in the balance, raw and exposed, held out on a platter for him to take or turn down. When he finally replies, his voice is small, the word barely a whisper. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
He nods, his lips grazing the base of my wrist, making my whole body shudder.
“I’ll do my best to quiet the voice in my head that tells me you deserve so much better,” he promises.
While I can tell by the look on his face that he genuinely means that, it can’t all be on him either. There is only so much a person can do to silence years of pain and insecurity. Lucky for him, I’ve always been a fan of a challenge, and have no plans to let him fight that battle alone.
“I’ll make sure to show you every day that voice is a fucking liar.”
He lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head. “So, is that a yes?”
“I don’t think you ever actually asked me the question. I might be a sure thing, Owen McKay, but if you think you can deprive me of the full experience of being asked to be yours, you’ve got another thing coming.”
I at least have to make him work for it a little.
Cupping my face once more, he drops his forehead to mine. “Finley,” he murmurs, and I do my best to prepare for what will be a life-changing question.
“Yes, Owen?”
“Will you make this grumpy old man incredibly happy and agree to go on a date with him?”
I wrinkle my nose, pretending to think it over until he lets out a frustrated groan. “I guess it all depends,” I tell him once he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation.
He pulls back an inch, concern written all over his face. “On what?”
Now probably isn’t the time for teasing, but I can’t help myself. Holding up a finger, I get ready to list off my demands.
“Will you dress up nice and smart for me? Absolutely no wrinkles allowed.”
He nods solemnly.
“Will you buy me pretty flowers? Whether or not they're on sale.”
A flicker of confusion reflects in his eyes as I hold up another finger, but he nods obediently once again.
“Will you open the car door for me?” One more goes up. “Will you pick up the check?” Another.
“Finley, of cou—”
“Will you ask me lots of thoughtful questions? ‘Cause I hear dates don’t appreciate it when you only talk about yourself,” I add, doing a frankly Oscar-worthy impression of him.
Owen grabs my hand out of the air before I can raise my last finger, finally catching on to my teasing.
I can’t help the giggle that erupts from my chest. I’m so damn happy it’s becoming impossible to contain.
Any moment now, my heart is going to explode, and I’ll disintegrate into a literal puddle all over Annabelle’s room.
“I don’t know why you’re being a brat about it. That was some good advice I gave you.” His feigned grumpiness is diminished significantly by the vibrant blush spreading across his cheeks.
I push down my laughter and school my face into something more serious. “I do have one more very important thing to ask you.”
Looking more than a little apprehensive, he waits for me to go on.
“Will you be respectful?”
“The perfect gentleman,” he whispers with a tenderness that makes me feel ten feet tall.
I grin back, already hopelessly in love. “In that case…” Leaning forward, I close the remaining distance and press my lips to his.
It was meant to be a chaste peck, but Owen groans, tugging me against him until I’m completely in his lap. One hand cups the back of my neck, fingertips threading into my hair, the other holding firm at my waist.
Like with our first, he sets the pace. However, gone is the past hesitation.
Gone is the ever-so-slight tremble in his touch.
There is no desperation in this kiss. No fear that it will ruin everything.
Just a simmering confidence as he deepens it.
An overwhelming rightness as my back hits the mattress, his tattooed arms bracketing my head.
When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t go far, just enough to leave me aching. Not for sex—for once in my life, that is the furthest thing from my mind—but for more of the way his kiss makes me feel. The way in his arms, I am no longer lost. How the softness of his touch brings me home.
“I need your answer, Fin.” His words ghost across my cheek, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
I gaze up at the future in those endless green eyes. My response fights against the ball of emotion in my throat. What kind of man would I be if I denied him the reassurance he clearly needs? I’ve never been able to deny this man anything at all.
“Owen, I was a goner the moment I first saw you. You could ask me ten times. A hundred. A thousand. My answer will always be yes.”
Relief looks almost as good on him as unbridled happiness.
“Now, will you please, please kiss me again?”
Thankfully, this time he does, and it’s hands down the best one yet. Because this kiss is what happily-ever-after is supposed to feel like. In his arms is where I belong.
The credits might be rolling on our movie, but our love story has only just begun.