Page 99 of Lost & Found

My stomach dropped harder.

BELLA:

I am NOT.

TORI:

That reaction alone says otherwise. Give us a minute.

I glanced back at the bikini. My bra and underwear covered more than this thing. And somehow that wasn’t even what had me spiraling. The phone rang. I answered just as a knock sounded on the bathroom door.

“You can’t hide in there forever.”

My traitorous stomach flipped again. “I’m having a bit of a struggle,” I called through the door. “Meet you downstairs?”

Snickering echoed in my ear from the girls.

“Bella,” he growled.

My knees actually weakened at the sound.

“I promise, Lev. This is new for me. I need a few minutes to acquaint myself with this much flesh showing.”

Laughter erupted from both sides of the Atlantic. Fantastic. I was a comedy special.

“All right. Fifteen minutes. Or I’m coming in and dragging you down myself.”

“Ha. Yeah, okay. See you soon.”

I stared at my reflection. My cheeks were pink. Eyes too bright. It wasn’t from the bikini either. I pressed my ear to the door and waited until I heard his footsteps retreat and the outer door click shut.

Only then did I open the bathroom door a crack to confirm. Relief coursed through me at the empty space. Good. I shut it again and leaned back against the counter.

“I’m not falling in love,” I snapped into the phone.

“What happened?” Tori asked. “Talk to us.”

So I did. I gave them the cliff notes—diner, bookstore, teasing, the book, the way he’d pinned me down.

“Every time he touches me it’s like… like—” I groaned. “I don’t have the words.”

“Well, that sounds exactly like you’re falling for my Pasha. And oh my God, do you know what that would mean? Isabella, our babies—yours and mine—could get married.”

“Will you shut up?” I hissed. “I am not having his babies. Or anyone’s babies. That’s your department and Tori’s. And you have to have sex to have babies. We are not doing that.”

“But you could,” she insisted, far too pleased. “He’d be perfect. And we wouldn’t have to vet any new girls coming into the house. Tell her, Tori.”

“I know you love them both,” Tori cut in calmly, “but this isn’t helping our Isabella.”

When she said my name, I felt myself steady.

“Look, you’re in a heightened situation. You’re pretending to be together. You’re sharing a bed. You’re touching more. The body responds to proximity. It responds to safety. It responds to attraction. That’s normal and it doesn’t automatically mean love.”

She was describing this situation like it was…ordinary. Like what I was feeling wasn’t some defect. Like I wasn’t broken. My reflection caught my eye in the mirror—flushed cheeks, bright eyes, breathing a little too fast.

“So you’re saying I’m horny?” I asked bluntly. “Since when?”

There was a second of silence. A tiny one.