Page 137 of Lost Then Found
Then her fingers trail down my stomach, light as air, like she’s testing just how far she can push before I snap.
“You look…” she says, voice scratchy, eyes stuck on my chest. “Good. I guess.”
I smirk, dipping my head until my mouth brushes hers. “You always this generous, or is it just for me?”
I kiss her before she can answer—mouth open, tongue sliding against hers with zero hesitation. It’s not soft. It’s not practiced. It’s two people who’ve thought about this too many times and finally stopped pretendingnot to.
My hand fists in the sheets beside her head, the other gripping her thigh, dragging it higher around my waist. She drags her nails down my stomach, slips her fingers under the waistband of my jeans, and I groan against her mouth, biting her bottom lip as her hips shift beneath mine.
She tastes like heat and home. Like I’ve waited long enough.
Her hands tangle in my hair, tugging me closer, rough and impatient. Her hips lift, chasing friction, her body arching under mine like she’s daring me to lose control.
I pull back just enough to look at her.
She’s flushed, wide-eyed, lips swollen, pupils blown.
And fuck, I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
That’s when I see them.
Barely there. Pale against her skin. A soft constellation of stretch marks low on her stomach, trailing along her hips. Faint and quiet and honest in a way that hits me dead center.
My chest tightens, admiration settling deep inside me.
I lower my head and press my lips to one.
Then another.
And another.
Each kiss a thank-you. A prayer. A vow.
Lark goes still under me. Her fingers stop in my hair, then slide away completely.
“Boone,” she says softly, voice cracking just a little. “You don’t have to—”
“Hey.” I lift my head and meet her eyes.
She glances away too fast. Down at herself. Then off to the side, like she doesn’t want to be seen.
But I see her.
All of her.
And she’s fucking perfect.
She exhales slowly, a sound that’s part frustration, part surrender. “Seriously. They’re not—”
“No.” I cut her off before the words can land. I shift, bracing a forearm beside her head so I can look her dead in the eye. “Don’t do that. Don’t talk about them like they’re something to be ashamed of.”
Her breath hitches. She blinks up at me, not flinching this time. Not turning away.
Good.
I slide my hand down, tracing the soft skin just above her hip, following the faint lines that map the story of her body. I move slowly. Not because I’m nervous—but because this matters.
“They’re proof Hudson had you,” I murmur. “That he lived here, inside you. That you kept him safe. Carried him into the world. You really think there’s a single part of that I wouldn’t want?”
