Page 116 of Lost & Found

The noise in my head dissipated, and clarity settled in. What happened on the roller coaster was natural. There was nothing shameful about it.

Just two bodies responding to adrenaline and chemistry. It didn’t define us. It didn’t mean we had to do anything more about it. It didn’t mean we were a couple. Sexual arousal was one of the most natural and normal things a person could feel. It was biology. No need to spiral over it.

Feeling lighter, I stepped out of the shower and got dressed. I didn’t let her silence burrow under my skin this time. Grabbing the dice and cards from the dresser, I crossed the room. She had one earbud in. The other sat next to her sketchpad. She sensed me before I spoke.

Her pencil moved steadily across the page—quick and confident. The ocean skyline from earlier took shape beneath her hand, the curve of the horizon, the jagged suggestion of waves. She was lost to her art, and that meant she was coping.

I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. She exhaled. The fact that she hadn’t yanked away spoke volumes. At the door, I paused. The scratching of pencil against paper had stopped.

Looking over at her, I waited, hoping she’d look up. A slow grin tugged at my mouth. She wasn’t drawing, but she was waiting for me to do something.

Damn stubborn Caruso blood.

“Leave the fireplace on for me, princess,” I commanded. “I love the way it plays against your face at night.”

I waited all of five minutes after he left before closing my sketchbook. I hadn’t been lost in the ocean skyline I’d drawn like I pretended to be. I’d been hiding. When he kissed the top of my head, something inside me softened.

It was so natural for us. So easy. There was never any pressure or expectation. Just solid Pasha. And that made what followed between us more confusing. For reasons I couldn’t fully articulate, I’d shut down on him.

Then, not knowing how to reopen the door without looking unhinged or unstable, I retreated further. Pride was a bitch. A dangerous one when paired with stubbornness.

Was I embarrassed? Yes. There was no denying that. I had dragged his hand up my thigh on a public ride and begged him to distract me. That wasn’t exactly subtle. But that wasn’t what hollowed me out afterward.

Not even close. The truth was far less virtuous and more primal.

I was frustrated.

The damn ride had ended too soon. Another loop. Just one more loop and one more drop. Sixty more seconds. That was all I needed. What would it have felt like to come under his fingers like that? Suspended in the sky with him anchoring me, the world screaming around us while I let go completely?

And now I’d never know.

I groaned and tossed the pencil onto the table. My body ached from the miles we’d walked, but it wasn’t the soreness that had me restless. A bath would help. I pushed away from the table and walked into the bathroom.

His body wash still lingered in the air, warm and clean. Undeniably him. There was no escaping him. No wonder Sebastian didn’t want us sharing a room. The thought of my brother was the dash of cold water I needed to clear my head. The sobering was immediate.

Thank you, brother.

I put on a playlist, turned the faucet on and watched the tub fill. The water climbed steadily, and I took my clothes off. After easing into the warm water, I let the heat settle into my muscles. My head tipped back against the porcelain.

Breathe.

After several long minutes, my head was clearer. I washed up, massaging the soreness from my calves. My stomach growled, reminding me of dinner. What had Pasha ordered? How long would he stay?

An hour was reasonable to assume. He’d be polite, have dinner with them, maybe a drink or two. I knew in my heart he wouldn’t stay for game night, not if I wasn’t there. The thought did wonders. His words drifted through my mind, uninvited and welcome all at once.

Leave the fireplace on for me, princess.

God. The way he spoke sometimes—low, commanding, reverent—ran over my skin like silk. I sank deeper into the bath, thinking about his lips and his hands. About the way he moved when he danced.

A soft groan slipped from my lips as my fingers drifted down the curve of my neck. What would it be like to lose my virginity to him? The thought moved in and took up permanent residence. Maybe in front of that damned fireplace.

The image unfurled easily, my mental canvas coming in clutch once again. The two of us stretched out on a blanket, the flames flickering off his golden, perfectly sculpted body. The amber in his eyes highlighted by the fire. Me leaning back and his hands braced on either side of me.

His body caging mine. My head thrown back. The heat on our skin warm, but nothing compared to the heat building inside us both. His mouth lowering. Slow and intentionally. Finding my neck.

The crack of the fire combined with the sounds of our breathing, and the soft friction of skin against skin. My pulse beat harder. That restless, insistent awareness from before was back in full swing. Consuming me. It settled between my legs like it had been waiting for me to invite it back in.

Fantasies are perfectly fine. There’s no harm in allowing your imagination to go there.