Lost & Found (20 page)

“What’s wrong? You’re sorry you did this, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not sorry. It was a crazy, fucked up plan that ended up going way wrong, but…God, Krissa.” He rubbed his face, not sure what to say, how much to tell her.

“You still haven’t really told me why you came.”

She watched him quietly, waiting.

“I…did tell you. I just heard you and Derek split up.”

“Yeah. But why did you come?”

She was pushing him. Amazing. “I’m not sure, actually. I wanted to make sure you were okay, I guess.”

“That’s it?”

He stared at her, shaking inside. “No, that’s not it. I had to see you Krissa. Christ, I’ve missed you.”

“Oh.” The word was a breath. “I missed you too.”

Their gazes connected and held for a long, stretched out moment. “I had to see you, Krissa. I was worried about you, and I missed you and…”

She waited.

“I wanted to tell you.”

A frown tugged her brows down.

“About Derek and Lauren. When I found out that night. I wanted to tell you. I wanted you to know what he’d done, that he was a goddamn dirtbag. I wanted you to hate him. I wanted you to leave him.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and blinked.

“But I couldn’t.” He closed his eyes briefly. “I couldn’t do it. You were married to him. You loved the guy.” The words stuck in his tight throat. “So I left. If I’d told you that, I would have been destroying your marriage.”

“You wouldn’t have destroyed my marriage. Derek did that.”

They looked into each other’s eyes, a look full of tortured emotion and questions. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just couldn’t do it. I thought you loved him. But I…”

She waited. He swallowed hard. “I loved you too.”

“Oh.” Her eyes grew glossy. “Oh, Nate.” Her mouth trembled and she put a hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes. It was okay if she didn’t love him back.

He swallowed past the baseball in his throat. “That’s where our whole crazy plan went wrong. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you.”

“No. That wasn’t supposed to happen.” Her voice was a sigh. “But I fell in love with you too, Nate.”

He opened his eyes, uncertain of what he’d heard.

“I knew I loved you, but I was so confused. I was married and I loved my husband. I thought I loved both of you. But now I know my feelings for Derek had changed.” She blinked at him, mouth quivering. “I can’t tell you how much I resented him for how he judged me all those years, how he blamed me for things that weren’t even my fault, how he blamed me for his stupid mistakes. Being apart from you all these months, thinking about you all the time…I missed you so much. I thought I’d get over you, eventually. Or maybe not.” She smiled crookedly.

“It was a helluva mess.”

“Yes.”

“It’s just you and me now.”

“Yes.”

His eyes dropped to her stomach. “And junior.”

She laughed. “Yes.”

“I want to see you, Krissa.”

She bit her lip, gave a short nod, let him tug apart the sides of the robe, exposing the inner curves of her breasts. He undid the belt and drew it to each side, then parted the robe and pushed it away. He gazed down at her body.

She looked up at him with anxious eyes. He trailed a finger over the curve of a breast that was fuller, but still perfect. He stroked the gentle swell of her stomach, his eyes devouring the sight of her lush femininity. Everywhere else she looked the same—smooth golden skin, tiny freckles here and there, the patch of dark curls between her legs.

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to her rounded belly, laid his cheek there and closed his eyes. When he lifted his face, his eyes were damp.

“I love you, Krissa.”

“I love you too, Nate.” She put her arms out to him and drew her against him, her frame still slender, even in the bulky robe. Only inches separated their faces. Nate dragged his gaze away from her eyes and looked at her mouth. The plump bottom lip parted slightly from the top just so he could see the edge of her white teeth.

He heard her indrawn breath, felt the tremors of her soft body in his arms. Her scent intoxicated him, surrounded him. So close he could see each tiny, pale freckle, each eyelash as her lids drifted shut and her mouth moved closer to him.

He moved too, felt her breath whisper on his lips, felt her heart knocking against him. He saw the pulse, just as quick, beneath the fine skin of her throat.

Then their mouths met, in an agonizing, excruciatingly beautiful kiss. Her mouth was heaven, sweet and soft. He stroked inside with his tongue, and she opened for him, met his tongue with hers. He kissed her again and again, long, slow, clinging kisses, their tongues brushing as they drew apart in slow, lush licks. She moaned deep in her throat, slid her hands around his neck, pulled him closer.

He lifted her onto his lap, turned her, tipped her back against the arm rest of the couch, leaned into her. He needed to taste more of her, more of her sweet mouth. He went to touch her hair but it was all stuck up in some kind of clip thing. He felt around, figured out how to open it and released her hair. It tumbled damp and wavy around her shoulders and he threaded his hand into it, twisted it around his fingers and gave a little tug, eliciting a whimper from her that had his blood sizzling through his veins.

It thrilled him that he remembered what she liked, that she liked what he did. He drew back, just a little, to look at her face. Heat sparked, ignited and grew between them as their kisses deepened, as he cupped one breast in his hand, rubbed his thumb over the nipple. His throat ached, and his heart lurched with overwhelming emotion. He couldn’t get close enough to her, could never get enough of her.

Her tummy was definitely there. It made him cautious. He drew back, fighting for breath. “Krissa. The baby.”

She gave him a slow, sexy smile. “The baby doesn’t know what we’re doing.”

“I mean, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

He kissed her again, deep, open-mouthed kisses, eating her up, trailed his fingers down the side of her neck into the opening of the robe, over her collarbone. He rubbed the top curve of her breast.

He drew back to look down at her and gazed into her eyes. The love shining there punched him like a fist in the gut, spreading warmth and relief and gratitude through him.

Without words, he helped her up from the couch, and she led him into her bedroom. His eyes took in the pretty crib in the corner. The big bed, crib and a white painted dresser occupied almost all the space in the small room. He pictured Krissa living here with the baby, the two of them sleeping in this small room so close, and his heart squeezed.

He pushed the robe off her shoulders and let it crumple on the floor at her feet. He couldn’t stop himself from touching her stomach again, fascinated with its swelling. He stroked over it, down her waist. His fingers trailed over her hips, up and around. Then while his hand rested there he felt movement—like a small spasm beneath the skin. “Oh.” He looked up at Krissa.

“Did you feel that?”

“Yeah. Holy hell.”

She smiled, put her hand over his and held it there until they felt another small bump. His heart full of wonder and awe, he struggled to breathe.

“Oh, wow. Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been calling it Peanut.”

He laughed. “We’ll think of something better when he or she is born.”

“Yeah.”

He kissed her mouth, softly, reverently. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” The word whispered against his mouth. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed against him. They stood like that, his hands on the sides of her tummy, their foreheads together, noses side by side, just breathing in each other. Then Krissa shifted her mouth closer to his and he took it in a long, hungry kiss.

They moved to the bed, and he laid her gently down on the simple white duvet. It puffed up around her, and she laid there, dark hair spread beneath her head, all smooth glowing skin, shiny eyes and captivating smile. He studied her as he undid the buttons of his shirt, pulling it out of his jeans as he did. His eyes wandered over the slender curve of her arms, the shadows between her legs, the way her small toes curled into the duvet, tugging something inside him as always. Then he stepped out of jeans, socks and underwear, shed his shirt. He lay down beside her, hand on her belly, elbow bent, his head propped on his hand.

Luminous green eyes turned to him.

“How should we do this?” he asked, uncertain if being on top of her was okay.

“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “I haven’t had sex since this baby was conceived, so…I’m not sure how it works.”

He sucked in a breath. “It was that night in Los Angeles, wasn’t it?”

She nodded, watching him.

“I’m glad,” he whispered. “I’m glad it was just the two of us.”

“Me, too.”

He pressed his face between her breasts, breathed in her peachy scent, then kissed the inside curve of each full breast. When he kissed a nipple, she drew in a sharp breath. “Oh.”

He lifted his head. “Okay?”

“Mmm. My nipples are sensitive. And…”

“What?”

“They’ve been…um…leaking a little bit.”

He swallowed. He stared down at the puckered nipples, bigger, darker pink, beautiful. “Can I…”

“Yes.” Her hands went to his head. “I want you to.”

He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked, rubbed his tongue over it. She tasted so sweet and her whimpers told him she loved what he did to her. He moved to the other nipple, tasted it too, played with it with his mouth while his fingers plucked at the other, tested the weight of her breast, squeezed it gently.

“That feels so good,” she moaned, fingers sifting through his hair. Her body twitched and writhed against him. “So good.”

He drew back to study her nipples after his attention, now even redder and stiffer and he watched in fascination as tiny white droplets slowly formed on the tips. “Oh, God,” he breathed. Krissa lifted her head to look at herself.

“That’s what I mean,” she murmured.

A fist squeezed his throat and his heart thumped hard. “Do you want to be on top?”

She gazed up at him. “I don’t know. I think it’s okay if you are.”

He moved over her and she reached for his cock, long, hard and throbbing. Her hands on him felt sublime, soft yet firm, stroking him in long pulls that sent pleasure licking over his skin.

“Inside me,” she said. “Please.”

“Yeah.” He let her guide him into her, felt her wetness, then her heat surrounded the head of his cock. Hot velvet, squeezing him. A low, rough sound tore from his throat. He held his weight on his elbows and really, she wasn’t that big, he just straightened his arms a bit to hold his body higher. She parted her legs wider, and he pushed into her in. The air ripped out of his lungs.

“Krissa, oh, God.”

“I know.” Her hands clutched his ass, pulled him deeper. “Fuck me, Nate.”

His groans mingled with her sighs as their bodies came together, perfect, easy and right. He surged into her, their connection intimate, joining not just their bodies but their hearts and their souls. Something touched him inside, a searing, exquisite sensation that he recognized as love. Something he thought he’d never feel again. And at that moment he knew he’d never felt this kind of love before. An overwhelming desire to protect and take care of her and their child, to be with them forever, made his eyes sting.

It hurt. Love hurt. It hurt like hell to think he’d found that kind of love with her, and lost her. He wasn’t even sure if she’d been his to lose, yet he’d known she had feelings for him, too, after that night in L.A. It made him wonder why he was so grateful to her for ripping open those old wounds, for letting him feel the pain he’d managed to avoid for years. And now he knew why.

Because love was a tender torment, an irresistible anguish that made everything else worthwhile. There was nothing else that mattered.

His hands framed her face, and his gaze held hers. He saw a reflection of his own devotion, his own longing, his own hope in her eyes, drawing him in. “I love you, Krissa. I love you.”

Her hands stroked over his back and he felt the tenderness in her touch, heard her pleasure in her muffled whimpers, leaned in and felt her love in the brush of her breath against his mouth. “I love you, too, Nate.”

Her body tightened beneath him and around him as she climaxed, squeezing him inside and out. She cried out and he watched her face, humbled by her beauty, by the ecstasy he saw there because of him, awed and gratified by her love. Pressure built at the base of his spine and in his balls, building to his own exquisite peak of pleasure. Her hands gripped his hips as he drove into her one…more…time…and exploded. Lights flashed as his lids squeezed shut against the intensity of his orgasm, and when he poured himself into her in long, hard almost painful pulses, he felt truly joined to this woman.

They settled beneath the soft warmth of the duvet, curled into each other. The protrusion of her tummy still felt unfamiliar but he liked it. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head and smiled.

“You’re sure Peanut doesn’t know what we’re doing?”

She laughed. “Yes.”

He loved her arms around him, stroking his back, down over the curve of his ass, dragging her fingers up the crevice there. Jesus, he was going to be hard again in two minutes if she kept that up.

“Where did you go when you left?” she asked him in a drowsy voice.

“To my parents.”

“Good.” He heard the satisfaction in her voice and smiled.

“Yeah. Thanks to you.”

“Why me?”

“I owe you everything, Krissa.”

She tilted her head back to look at him.

“I was…dead. Inside. After Lauren died, and then I found out about her cheating, I just…shut down. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want sympathy. I didn’t want to talk to people who knew us, who would be all ‘poor Lauren, such a wonderful girl’ when I knew the truth, and yet, I didn’t want to tell people about it, either. So I just avoided everyone who knew us. Ran away and took pictures.”

“And did damn good at it.”