Lost and Found

Chapter Seventeen

Planning sex was weird, but necessary, although the lack of spontaneity did nothing to diminish Nate’s arousal. Christ, he’d been half hard for days.

All day, he and Krissa tiptoed around each other in the big house.

Every time they saw each other and their eyes met, heat flared and they both looked away. Krissa spent most of the day in her office, working at something on her computer, he didn’t know what, but around noon they’d met up in the kitchen, both hungry. She’d made sandwiches while he opened a bag of potato chips and fished pickles out of a jar. As they ate, the silence amplified and the heat intensified. He was excruciatingly aware of Krissa’s shiny dark hair, her soft skin, as usual much of it bared by the shorts and skimpy tank top she wore. His eyes lingered on her smooth thighs, her little bare toes with pink toenails. Would she wrap those legs around him? His dick twitched.

He eyed her hands, holding a glass of iced tea, small fingers with short, unpolished nails. Would she run those hands over his body? His gut quivered.

Would he get to kiss her?

He closed his mind to those kinds of thoughts. This wasn’t going to be like that. This would be sex like every other sexual encounter he’d had since Lauren had died. The only women he’d been with since then were women who lived in far-away places that he’d never see again. That was how he liked it. He didn’t want any emotional entanglement.

He and Krissa were attracted to each other. There was no denying the chemistry fizzing between them, pretty much since he’d arrived back in California.

They wanted his sperm and he could do that. Hell, sleeping with Krissa was no hardship, he’d admitted that, but it would be nothing more than a sperm donation. It was all he could handle emotionally. It was all he deserved.

He looked up and caught her staring at him, and her eyes quickly shifted away.

“Krissa.”

“Yes?”

He didn’t know what to say, just wanted to connect with her. “We’re friends, right?”

She nodded, wide eyed.

“I don’t want this to change that.”

Raw emotion softened her face. Her bottom lip quivered adorably. “It won’t.”

But they both knew it would. They both knew nothing was ever going to be the same. Sexual energy shimmered between them, a longing, an aching need, a searing fear.

“Fuck, we should just do it right now and get it over with,” he muttered.

“We have to wait for Derek.”

“I know.”

“And what do you mean by get it over with? Is it going to be that bad?”

He started to vehemently protest but then he saw the glint in her green eyes and closed his mouth. He looked at her. “That’s not what I meant at all,” he finally said mildly. “I meant I’m so goddamn hard just thinking about it, if I’m not inside you soon I’m going to come in my shorts.”

Her eyes widened and he heard the soft intake of breath. He’d spoken crudely and he recognized it as the feeble attempt it was to hide the fact that more than just lust was making him hard. What it was, exactly, he preferred not to analyze just then.

“I think I’d better get back to my office,” Krissa said, her voice thick. She stood and picked up her plate and empty glass and took them over to the dishwasher.

“I’ll clean up,” Nate said. “I’ve got nothing else to do. You go back to work.”

She disappeared without another word and he suspected her rush to get away from him was the same reason he wanted to get it over with—if she didn’t, they’d end up screwing on the kitchen floor.

He considered going to his room and jacking off, but from what little he knew, he needed to keep his sperm count high and that was not the way to do it.

He groaned out loud and put a hand to his aching cock. By tonight he’d be so out of his mind, this whole thing was going to last about two seconds.

“What’s with the candles?” Derek asked, tugging his shirt out of the waistband of his pants. She’d lit candles all around the bedroom, scenting the air with ginger and peach. She hoped the glow of them was soft enough not to hurt Nate’s eyes. She didn’t want him to do this with glasses on.

“I-I want it to be nice,” she told him. He paused. He gave her a look and it tugged at her heart. “Derek.” She crossed over to him and put her hands on his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too, babe.” He slid his arms around her and they stood for a moment, hugging. She squeezed him tightly, pressed her face to his chest.

“Are you sure about this?” she whispered.

He moved his head in a nod. “Yeah. I’m sure. There’s no one else in the world I’d do this with. Just Nate.”

“Me too.”

She drew back and he bent his head and kissed her mouth. She was so primed and sexually on edge that his kiss melted her inside. Then he stepped away and disappeared into the bathroom.

Krissa climbed onto the bed. They’d all agreed their king-size bed was the best place to do this. She sat in the middle of it, legs to one side, hands clasped in her lap. She wore a white silk chemise. It was sexy but not slutty. She had no idea why it even mattered, but she’d deliberated for a good half hour over what to wear. Foolish girl.

She looked down at herself. Her nipples poked against the thin silk, the low V revealing the curves of her breasts. She put one hand over a breast and cupped its softness though the silk. She closed her eyes.

And waited.

Then Nate appeared in the door, still fully clothed.

“Hi.” He stopped, looked at her. She met his gaze, didn’t move.

“Hi. Come in.”

He walked into the room, looked around. “Whoa. Candles.”

“Is it okay? I didn’t want too much light to hurt your eyes.”

“Oh.” He slid the glasses off, waited. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

“Good.”

Derek emerged from the bathroom wearing only his boxer shorts. One corner of his mouth quirked up as his and Nate’s eyes met. They shared a smile and Krissa’s heart swelled. It was okay. It would be okay.

She studied the two men as Nate began to remove his clothing. Nate was an inch or so taller than Derek, but both men were gorgeous in their own way—Derek’s blond hair cut short and businesslike, his tan a paler gold than Nate’s darker skin. Nate’s longish hair looked thick and soft. They were both lean and muscled, perfect male bodies, wide shoulders and hips narrowing to slim waist and hips.

Nate kept his underwear on, like Derek, soft black cotton boxer briefs that hugged his erection. There was no hiding it in those shorts.

Krissa’s breathing quickened. She wanted them both. She cared about them both. Tonight she and Nate would have sex, but she’d make sure Derek knew how important he was in all this.

Derek went around to the side of the bed where he always slept and Nate sat down on the other side.

“Okay,” Nate said. “Let’s do it. Lay down, Krissa.”

Taken aback, she did as he asked, tugging down the duvet and sliding under it. The sheets were cool on her heated skin. She laid her head on the pillow and looked at him.

He pulled the corner of the duvet aside and climbed into the bed with her. His body heat enveloped her, his weight dipped the bed and she shifted toward him. She felt him fumbling under the covers. He was pushing off his underwear.

Her stomach clenched painfully, to the point of nausea. Her throat tightened. He shifted his feet under the duvet, presumable pushing the underwear the rest of the way off. His fingers gripped her hip.

She swallowed painfully, wanted to touch him, but fear paralyzed her. This wasn’t what she’d imagined.

He pushed her flat on her back, moved over her. He kneed her legs apart and grasped his cock. He was going to push into her in two seconds.

Tears stung her eyes and she squeezed them closed. She felt the prod of his penis at her entrance, a pinching, a nudge of his knee on her thigh. A sob tore from her throat. She put her hands on his chest, pushed at him. He stopped, looked down at her.

“Stop.” She choked on a sob. “Stop.” She shoved him again, rolled from under him and scrambled out of the bed. She stood there on trembling legs, still wearing the silk gown, a hand covering her mouth. She tried to find control over her shaking throat so she could speak, but then the tears poured and sobbing, she turned and fled into the bathroom.