Page 95 of Lost & Found

“What do you think?” she asked. “You going to take it down to the beach and read it?”

“I think I will,” I said, studying her. “Maybe there’s some insight I can glean.”

“Tori read a review. Said it’s a one-hand read.”

She shifted, the book resting loosely in her hands. Light from the window traced along her collarbone. I let her foot slide from my lap. Then I moved. In one fluid motion, I climbed up the mattress, bracing my hands on either side of her hips.

Her back hit the headboard with a muted thud. Her eyes widened. I reached up, sliding my hand into her hair, fingers curling at the back of her head. Her breath hitched as her fingers wrapped around my forearm.

“One-hand read?” I murmured, lowering my mouth close enough that my words brushed against her lips.

Her pulse fluttered beneath my thumb. The playful tone was still there. But something deeper had slipped underneath it. Something both of us recognized. She swallowed, determined to commit to the bit.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s in reference to the steam factor. While reading certain scenes, one might find themselves…”

She trailed off. Color crept up her neck, flooding her cheeks in a slow, undeniable pink. Her mouth opened, then closed again as she recalibrated. Watching her process whether to retreat or charge forward was fascinating.

“Go on,” I demanded.

“You know what I’m trying to say,” she countered, eyes locking with mine.

There it was again—that innocent mask she wore like armor. I frowned, letting disappointment settle over my features.

“But I want to hear you say it,” I growled. “Now be my good little princess and—”

She blurted, “Flick the bean, paddle the pink canoe, audition finger puppets.”

I froze for half a second. Then…lost it. I released her and fell back onto the mattress beside her, laughter ripping out of me. The first two I’d heard before. The last one? Totally new. The visual was too much.

She laughed beside me just as hard. Probably felt freeing in some way to shout it out like that. After a moment, I turned my head to look at her.

With the laughter slowing, she rolled toward me, her palm settling on my chest. Her fingers traced the outline of my tattoo through the fabric of my T-shirt with unsettling precision.

“But that’s not all of them,” she teased.

Her cheeks were still pink, but her eyes had steadied. Her hand drifted lower, then shifted back up. I groaned as her fingertips circled my nipple through the thin cotton. The tighter the circles, the more my body reacted. Fuck, it felt so good. She watched my reaction with open curiosity.

“I also like to call it finger painting,” she continued. “Or a little ménage à moi time. However you say it, self-care is the safest care.”

Her thumb and forefinger zeroed in on my left nipple, and she pinched. Then the little brat twisted. A sharp hiss escaped, and my back arched involuntarily off the mattress as blood shot straight to my cock. Pleasure coursed through me like wildfire.

Catching her wrist, I pried her hand away, breathing through her cute little spontaneous torture session.

“I’m definitely taking that book down to the beach now,” I said. “Sounds like a page turner. The female lead…a bit of a cock tease.” I let my eyes travel slowly over her face. “Sounds like someone I know.”

She smirked.

“And don’t even get me started on the stolen princess angle. Or the wrong family.”

“I know, right? The only thing off is the female lead’s name. Too bad I couldn’t find something closer to…” she paused dramatically, “Hannah, maybe?”

I moved, catching both her wrists in my hands in one smooth motion. I pushed them above her head and drove her back into the mattress. The playful laughter evaporated at her suggestion. I climbed over her.

Her body reacted on instinct—she bucked once beneath me, breath punching out of her as I settled my weight between her thighs. Then she felt it. She couldn’t help but feel me, because the damn thing was harder than steel. The full length of my erection pressed against the heat of her pussy.

“Lev,” she breathed.

My jaw flexed at the name and the sound of it falling from her lips.