Page 65 of Lost and Found

“Are you inviting me into your bed?”

“Yes, in whatever way you want to take that. You know my vote.” But his waiting until she knew what she wanted gave her a sense of security she hadn’t expected.

He kissed her forehead and whispered against her skin, “I do love that stubborn streak of yours.”

“Be warned,” she teased, pulling back the comforter. She wriggled out of her pajama bottoms. “I don’t sleep in pants. Shirt and panties only—which means no jeans. It’s a rule.”

“I can’t fight you on everything.” He stripped off his pants and tossed them aside as he turned out the lights.

But not before she glimpsed his powerful thighs and backside carved out of muscle. Bailey reached for him as he crawled into bed. In their shirts and underwear, they came together. She snuggled into the crook of his arm and brushed her hair from her face, careful to avoid her cheek and the cut on her scalp.

“Your bruises bothering you?” he asked quietly in the dark.

“More than I realized.” She couldn’t take any more painkillers, and the high of the orgasm was wearing away.

“Do you want anything?”

Bailey listened to his heartbeat and, with her eyes closed, let the steady beat hypnotize her. “Just this.”

Wes kissed her temple. “Night, baby.”

Bailey? Or…baby? Baby, she decided, and a whimsical, magical sensation of happiness pulled her toward sleep.

Chapter Fifteen

Soft light creeping around the edges of the drawn curtains eased Bailey awake. Bleary morning confusion snapped into a panic. She’d curled up against Wes, had wrapped around his chest, with one arm over his abdomen and a leg threaded over his. The urgent need to disentangle herself before he woke became her sole mission. Last night was one thing. Holding on to him was something else entirely. She shifted.

He shifted too, keeping her in place. “Where you going?”

Memories from last night replayed in a vivid reel. Everything he said. Everything he did. And now, the intimacy of him holding her like this without having had sex astounded her. “I’m squashing you.”

Silent laughter shook his chest. “You’re a morning person, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but not this early.”

“Were you before Matt?” he asked, bringing the real world into their hotel room like it didn’t scare him.

She moistened her lips. “No.”

Wes sleepily stroked her hip. “Matt’s in good hands. You don’t have to get up right now unless you want to.”

Last night, she’d been vulnerable. This morning, she was realistic. She had a mom’s body. Yes, she took care of herself. But her boobs had breastfed a baby for a long time. Her butt was somehow bigger and flatter than it had been when Wes knew her. Her stomach was nowhere near flat, and she had a scar from a C-section that insisted on acting like an apron tie. Bailey wasn’t sure he’d noticed, given her tendency to wear loose dresses, but last night, there was nothing to hide behind.

Then there was Wes, whose body composition put him into some unworldly category of fit without being too much. He probably ran for miles for fun and lifted weights the size of a small horse to relieve stress.

His fingers splayed over her belly and belted her in place. “Are you getting up?”

She should but shook her head.

“It feels like you’re going to vault away from me.” Wes rolled onto his side, laying his leg over hers but making sure she didn’t roll onto her hurt arm. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she said too quickly.

His lips quirked. “Why don’t you tell me the truth instead? What’s bothering you in the light of day?”

“You’re very…” She drummed her fingertips on his stomach. “And I’m very…” She lifted her hand and made a line of waves in the air.

“We’re playing charades?”