Page 63 of Lost and Found

If the last few weeks had taught him anything, especially the last twelve hours, it was that he’d changed his mind. Bailey had changed his mind.

A relationship didn’t make sense. They lived hours apart. He traveled. She had a kid. Matt had to be the most important part of anything Wes and Bailey considered. He rubbed the back of his neck and let out a slow breath. What did he want from them? More importantly, what might they want from him?

That wouldn’t be figured out tonight. They needed an honest conversation. The ball was completely in her court. She could take this in whatever direction she wanted—so long as it wasn’t no-strings. That was the only thing he was certain of.

His cell phone vibrated with a text.

Bailey: Done getting ready for bed. You can come back.

Wes waited so it didn’t seem like he’d stood by the door and let himself into the room. Humidity from the shower floated in the air along with the scent of shampoo and soap. He walked farther in. Bailey sat crisscross on the bed in pink flannel pajama pants and a lighter pink cotton tank top. Her towel-dried hair hung damp over her cheeks. The bruises seemed more pronounced, her cheeks pink from the hot shower. He wanted to find the person who had hurt her and make sure they would never hurt her—or anyone—again.

Wes also wanted to hold her. Breathe her in, and feel again how she’d melted against his chest. He wanted her sweet mouth and the little gasps and groans she made when his hands memorized the curve of her hips and ass. When his fingers had flexed into her softness… Fuck, what he wouldn’t do to feel that again. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

He locked the bathroom door, set his overnight bag down, and rested his palms on the counter. He needed to pull it together, or he’d never sleep. Recollections of her pressed against him on the pier surfaced. Sleep was overrated.

He forced himself to quickly brush his teeth and jump in the shower. He couldn’t stop thinking of the way she’d looked up at him after he kissed her. Heat coursed through him. The urge to get off was almost too much, but he wouldn’t go there. Not that he didn’t want to get caught. More like he didn’t want to lose that buzzing need aching beneath his skin.

He twisted the shower knob and blasted cold water until it chased the desire away. Almost. Enough to get through the night on a pull-out bed while she slept feet away.

Wes dried off, tied the towel around his waist, and reached for his overnight bag. His hand froze in midair. What he brought to sleep in wasn’t going to work. He slept in boxer briefs.

Hell… He massaged the knot of scar tissue on his shoulder. He didn’t have many options. He pulled on clean underwear and a T-shirt, then his jeans back on again instead of wearing tomorrow’s pants.

She knocked on the door.

His heartbeat picked up speed again. Wes cracked the door. “Everything okay?”

“I—” Her gaze dropped to the unfastened pants hanging on his waist. “Why are you wearing jeans?”

He should have buttoned his fucking pants before he spoke to her. What the hell was the matter with him? But he tried to play it off. “I left my cutesy PJs at home.”

The humor didn’t land. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Her cheeks still flushed from the shower, and she didn’t meet his gaze.

“Bailey, what’s wrong—”

She kissed him, not bothering with tentative or tender. Her mouth moved over his, as hungry for him as he was for her. This was everything he wanted.

Wes pulled her close. Their tongues tangled. He couldn’t get enough of her. Couldn’t get close enough. Couldn’t feel enough even while this was heaven. Fuckin’ paradise. Everything he’d ever needed a kiss—a woman—to be.

The hot caress of her tongue shot him to another universe. His fingers smoothed under her shirt, kneading up her back and down again until he cupped her ass. She filled his hands and gave him something to grab onto. Her head tipped back on a groan, as though she couldn’t hold herself up. She didn’t have to. Wes had her. He held her. He’d give her anything she needed so long as she stayed this close to him.

Bailey lifted her arms, sucking in a quick breath at her tender arm.

“Easy.”

Her lashes fluttered. “I don’t want easy.”

“Then it won’t be, but not because your shoulder hurts.” He snagged the hem of her tank top and dragged it slowly, as if unwrapping a gift he wanted to savor. The fabric lifted over her soft stomach, and his erection throbbed as he pulled the fabric over her full breasts, sucking a breath in at the pink pebbled tips of her nipples. His breath was ragged, and he didn’t care if that was too much, too obvious, too…everything.

His mouth watered at the idea of taking her breasts into his mouth, but not yet. He pulled her good arm through one side of the shirt, carefully disentangled her sore arm, and pulled the shirt over her head.

Her eyes searched his. Wes dropped to his knees and slid his hands to her breasts, cupping, massaging, until he sucked her nipple deep into his mouth.

She gasped, fingers threading into his hair, tugging the strands, then pressing him for more. “Wes…”

He tugged the flannel pants over her hips. She shimmied, and the fabric piled at her feet. He eased back, drinking her in like he’d never seen a woman before. Heavy breasts. Curves. Silk underwear that might be his undoing. Wes caressed her hips and smoothed his hand between her legs as he took her breast in his mouth again.

Touching her. Feeling her. He wanted so much from her. His tongue flicked and lapped, teasing as he dragged his knuckles along the silk, between her legs, finding her as aroused as he was.