Page 147 of Lost Then Found
I want to go to bed with her every night, wrapped up in sheets that smell like her, listening to her tell me about the book she’s reading or the random thoughts that pop into her head right before sleep takes her. I want to wake up with her just as the sun rises, watch her stretch and mumble something sleepy before curling into me for just a few more minutes.
I want Hudson asleep down the hall from us, his baseball glove on the nightstand, his sneakers kicked off in the doorway because he never quite makes it all the way into his room before he forgets about them. I want to be the one to drive him to practice, to help him with his swing, to teach him how to drive a damn truck.
I want to make Lark laugh.
I want her to read me poetry, the kind that makes her eyes go all soft and far away. I want to make her dinner, watch her lean against the counter while she steals bites straight from the pan, tell her to knock it off even though I love it.
And the sex—God. I want the kind that leaves you raw. The kind that doesn’t just feel good, butmeanssomething. Where every touch says more than words ever could. Where it stops being about need and starts being about knowing. Knowing someone in the way only time and pain and love can teach you.
I’ve had good sex before, but nothing like ours. Nothing that feels like it rewires me, like it stitches me back together at the same time it unravels me. Nothing that makes me feel known. With Lark, it’s not just about the way she feels—it’s about the way she sees me, the way I see her, and the fact that, somehow, we still fit.
I want her in my bed, on my ranch, in my life.
I want to put more babies in her. I want to run my ranch and come home to her, to Hudson, to the family I didn’t know I could have.
I want a house. A home.
I want all of it, with them.
I want every single messy, complicated, beautiful part of this.
I press one more kiss to the tips of her fingers, letting them linger there before I finally say, “If Hudson asks, we’ll just be honest. Tell him where we’re at with each other.”
Lark rolls her eyes, tilting her head slightly. “You always make everything sound so simple.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Itissimple.”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling, and I don’t think she realizes that every time she looks at me like that—like she might actually believe me—I get a little closer to making her mine again.
I clear my throat. “Speaking of being honest…”
Her eyes narrow instantly, like she knows she’s not going to like whatever I say next. I almost laugh.
“Miller came to me,” I tell her. “Asked me to help look into the Bluebell.”
Lark groans dramatically and drops her head onto my chest. “Of course she did.”
I grin, running a hand up her back. “Don’t be mad at her. She only did it because she loves you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbles, blowing a piece of hair out of her face.
I laugh and move it for her, tucking it behind her ear. “She knew you wouldn’t come to me on your own.”
Lark lifts her head just enough to glance up at me, lips pursed. “She’s not wrong.”
“Well,” I say, grinning, “thanks to some of my training, I might actually be able to help.”
Her finger traces over the small bouquet of daisies on my arm. “Asking for help isn’t exactly my strong suit.”
I cover her hand with mine, running my thumb over her knuckles, slow and steady. “You don’t have to do everything alone, Lark,” I murmur. “Not anymore.”
Lark presses a quick kiss to my lips—a peck, soft and fleeting. But before she can fully pull away, I cradle the back of her head and kiss her harder, deeper.
A quiet little noise escapes her throat as she melts into me, her body going pliant beneath my hands. She parts her lips just enough for me to slip my tongue inside, teasing, coaxing, pulling her under with me. Then, just as I’m about to deepen it, she bites down on my lower lip and sucks, dragging her teeth over the sensitive skin, and—fuck.
A groan rumbles low in my chest, my grip tightening around her. I can feel myself getting hard again, feel the way her body shifts against mine, how ready she is for me, even now. My arms wrap around her, pressing her tighter against me, my lips brushing against her jaw as I murmur, “I’ve got about half an hour before I have to head back to the ranch.”
She pretends to consider her options. “Oh yeah?” she says. “What should we do with all that time?”
