Cunningham Family: Lost And Found Part 2

"I was just reminding you of the simplest solution."

"You were just trying to get me naked, you mean."

"That too."

He laughs again and loops his arms around my waist. But when our eyes meet, some of the humor in their depths is replaced by a look that makes my toes curl against the ocean floor.

After those few moments of tension in the car, I'm glad things are back to normal between us. Or at least as "normal" as they can be, given our circ.u.mstances.

Ward seems to have forgotten that I tried to send him away earlier. He leans down and captures my mouth, kissing me roughly, and my whole body ignites with sensation. It burns hottest where my skin meets his.

When he finally releases my lips, I feel like I could float away.

"So," I say softly. "What do you think of the ocean?"

His eyes lift from mine, looking past me out toward the horizon. I can't even remember my first time at the sh.o.r.e, and I can only imagine what he's feeling right now. As he considers his answer, I spread my hands and slide them up his bare back, reveling in the hardness of his muscles.

"It doesn't look so different from Lake Michigan," he says after a moment. "Not that I got to spend a lot of leisure time at the beach growing up." Ward grew up in Chicago with his mom, and from what he's told me, they were barely getting by. He essentially had the exact opposite of my childhood.

"But you know," he continues, "it might look the same, but it's completely different. The water's warmer here. And the sand is strange. And of course everything's salty." He takes a deep breath, still looking at the wide expanse beyond me. "But it's mostly the size. Yeah, Lake Michigan's huge, but you know what's on the other side. You can even see it sometimes, or so they tell me. But this..." His arms tighten around my waist. "You can tell just by looking at it that it goes on forever. Or close enough."

There's a reverence in his voice. I lean into him and press my lips against his bare shoulder. I can taste the sea on him. His usual taste is there, too, just beneath the saltiness.

Two days ago, when he asked me where I wanted to go, I jokingly told him we should find a deserted island and live out our days drinking coconut milk and living on the beach. When he confessed that he'd never seen the ocean... well, I knew we had to take care of that.

I'm glad that he has this. Maybe I can't convince him to return to Huntington Manor-though I intend to keep trying-but I can thank him in other ways for everything he's done for me.

Ward's hands gently grasp my cheeks, and he tilts my face back.

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

That I want you to go back.

That I want you to have everything, including a relationship with your father.

That I never want to let you go.

But I can have a day, can't I? Or a week? Or a month? Just a month when he's mine and we can forget about everyone and everything else?

I smile up at him. He's so much taller than me that my neck is starting to ache, but I don't care.

"I'm thinking that I'm glad we came here," I say.

"Me too." He drops his hand slightly, letting his thumb glide across the column of my throat. His eyes are suddenly serious. "And I mean it. I'm not going anywhere."

I don't deserve that kind of loyalty. But it stirs something inside of me all the same, and I'm not strong enough to push him away. I intend to argue with him about his choice to be here, but not right now. Not when he's looking at me like I'm everything, like I'm more breathtaking than the endless stretch of water behind us.

I reach up and pull his face down to mine. His lips are as salty as the rest of him. He holds my face against his and runs his tongue along my lips. His hard chest presses my damp shirt against my body. I tighten my arms around his neck and leap up, hooking my legs around his waist.

"I have a question for you," I whisper against his mouth.

He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth, then releases it and begins to kiss my cheek. "Hm?"

"What are your feelings about s.e.x in the ocean?"

His mouth freezes against my cheek, but then I feel it curl into a smile.

"Are you propositioning me?" he murmurs. "Weren't you the one warning me that this was a public beach?"

He's right, of course. But when he looks at me like that, all of my better sense goes out the window. I throw a glance over his shoulder, back toward the family, and something leaps inside of me when I see them packing up their things.

"I think they're going in for the day," I tell him. I look up and down the sh.o.r.e, and though there are some other people along the sand, no one is close enough to see much of what we're doing.

"What do you say?" I murmur against his neck. I want to do something special to commemorate this experience for him.

His arms are around my waist, his fingers digging into my back, but he doesn't move. He's normally raring to go at the first suggestion of s.e.x, so I'm not sure why he's hesitating now. Maybe he just needs a little motivation.

I slide down off his body and plant my feet on the ocean floor again. Then I reach beneath the water and undo my zipper.

"We never got to finish back there in the car," I remind him. "Are you just going to leave me all worked up like this?" I keep my gaze locked on his as I push my jeans down my legs beneath the water.

When I'm finally free of my pants, I hold them up for him to see. I'm feeling wild. Reckless. I don't care that we're in broad daylight in a public place. I drape my dripping jeans over his shoulder.

"I'll put them back on again, if you want," I say, "or I can just leave them there for a little while."

He was already looking at me with affection and desire, but his eyes suddenly sharpen with an intensity that sends a dart of need straight to my core. It's the only warning I have.

He grabs me and crushes me to him. His mouth comes down on mine, hungry and desperate, and I can already feel him hardening against my thigh. I tug at his boxers, shoving them down his legs beneath the water.

I've only just gotten them past his knees when he reaches down and clutches the curve of my bottom, jerking me up toward him again. His fingers dig into the backs of my thighs, and I obey his silent command and hook my legs around him once more.

His mouth continues to devour mine, his tongue thrusting its way inside and his teeth crushing against the tender skin of my lips.

Maybe I understand why he doesn't want to give this up so easily, even if we both know it's wrong for him to be here.

My arms are around his neck. My fingers in his hair. He tastes so delicious that I don't think I'll ever be able to tear my mouth away. He bites down on my bottom lip. His tongue traces the edge, and b.u.t.terflies dance in my stomach. I shift my hips, trying to get myself in a better position for what we both want.

But his arms suddenly tighten, holding me still. I keep kissing him, wanting more and more, but his lips are frozen. He lets out a ragged breath against my mouth.

"We don't have a condom," he reminds me.

There's so much disappointment and so much l.u.s.t in his voice that my emotions are torn in two directions. I know I should be grateful that at least one of us is responsible, but the thought of stopping this now is almost unbearable.

I refuse to stop this now.

"We've been creative before," I whisper. There are plenty of ways to have s.e.x without actually having s.e.x. This isn't the first time we've found other ways to enjoy each other.

His eyes flash in response to my words. That's a good enough argument for him. His mouth comes down on mine again, and I moan in pleasure as his tongue pushes roughly past my teeth. I press myself against him as much as possible. It doesn't even matter that I'm still wearing my shirt and bra. The drenched fabric clings so closely to my body that I'm sure he can feel the hardness of my nipples and the heat of my skin anyway.

I tighten my thighs around him and shift my hips again, looking for friction. His hard length slides against me, and now it's his turn to moan. We've done this before-ground against each other in a fit of madness-and I want that release again.

He pulls away from my mouth again, but only to begin kissing my chin, my throat, my jaw.

"After this," he says against my cheek, "I'm going to buy the largest pack of condoms in the store and spend all night having you in every way I can imagine."

I sigh in pleasure. It doesn't matter how many times he takes me. Just the promise of another night is enough to undo me. We haven't been on the road a week, and we've made love so many times that I've already lost count. I thought things were hot between us back at Huntington Manor, but since we've been free of that place, we can't seem keep our hands off of each other. I don't know what it is, exactly-the liberation of our decision, the slight sense of danger, or just the excitement and desperation of knowing that we're in this together-but I can't get enough of him, and he can't seem to get enough of me, either.

One of his hands slips down from my waist to dip between my legs from behind. I throw my head back as his fingers brush against my folds, then wiggle in his grasp as he begins to explore me. His mouth falls to my neck once more as I arch against him, and though I grind myself against his body, it's not enough. I need to be closer to him.

I shift again and reach down between us to wrap my hand around his arousal. He makes a sound like a growl as I slide my fingers down his length, and the sound deepens when I shift him so that the end of his c.o.c.k brushes more directly against the sensitive flesh between my legs.

"I just want to feel you," I beg softly, cutting off his protests. "Just let me feel you." This is dangerous, I know. The last time we almost-but-didn't-quite have s.e.x, we still had our underwear on. Two layers of fabric, however thin, still offer some barrier, eliminate some of the temptation. When it's just us, we have to rely on our willpower.

But Ward doesn't move away, though I can feel the tension of restraint in his muscles as I grind myself against him again. I respect him for having that control. My whole body is fire and sensation, and I'm having trouble focusing on anything but the way he's touching me. My breath is shallow and fast, but my heart beats still faster. It's not fair. I shouldn't want him this much, I shouldn't need him this much.

I kiss him again. And again. I need somewhere for this energy to go. I have to express my desire for him somehow or I'll go mad.

"I need to feel you," I say again. I'm not even sure what I mean anymore, but I want to be closer to him.

And Ward seems happy to oblige me. His fingers move away from the sensitive flesh between my legs so he can reach down and take control of his c.o.c.k. This time he guides it himself, sliding it back and forth along my folds. I whimper and press my forehead against his bare shoulder as the ache grows between my legs. He's only teasing us both, making us both desperately hungry for the thing we told ourselves we couldn't have, but I don't have the strength to ask him to have mercy on me. I want this. More than anything.

He slides the tip of himself from the front of me to the back, and then to the front again-brushing against my c.l.i.t and then moving back toward my opening. Back and forth, letting the agony build in my belly. He's cruel, so deliciously cruel.

The next time he pauses at my entrance, I can't take it anymore. I bite down on his shoulder, trying not to scream in frustration. I feel the shift in him immediately, feel his muscles tense even more-and then sense the exact moment when he lets it all go and gives up his restraint. Before I even realize what's happening, he's plunging inside of me.

I'm sure I cry out in joy, but I don't hear it. We're past the point of reveling in the pleasures of joining. Right now there's only raw, animal l.u.s.t, and Ward drives into me like something wild. He bucks his hips, thrusting into me again and again, and it's all I can do to hold on to him and ride the wave of feral hunger. He grips me roughly, pulling my hips down to meet his every thrust.

I cling to him as the sensations build inside me, as my muscles tense and tighten around him. I needed this, longed for this crazy, explosive reminder that I'm not alone. That we're here for each other. That there's something good left in me-something pa.s.sionate and desirable and irresistible. That there's someone who wants me in spite of the crazy things I've done and the horrible ways I've behaved.

As we move together, I kiss him everywhere I can reach, but I'm always drawn back to his mouth. I want to feel his ragged breath against my lips. I want to taste his tongue, let him invade me in every way possible. I'm lost when I'm in his arms, and at the same time I've never felt this close to anyone.

I don't last long. It's all so overwhelming, so wonderful, that it's only a few moments before my body can't take anymore. I hold him tightly, and the words bubble up in my throat with the bliss.

"I love you," I breathe against his mouth. And then the ecstasy erupts through me.

I'm just dimly aware of his body tensing as my muscles contract around him, but that's the only warning I have that he's nearly there himself. He jerks my hips back and withdraws from me abruptly, and his grip tightens as he shudders in release. He stumbles a little, and my own legs seem suddenly useless, even with the buoyancy of the water. My thighs slide down until I'm no longer wrapped around him, but I lean against his body as I try to catch my breath. My head falls against his chest. His hard muscles are slick with perspiration, and the thump thump thump of his heart is a soothing beat after the delightful chaos he just put me through.

His arms are still around me. He rests his cheek against the side of my head, and the warmth of his breath against my damp skin sends goose b.u.mps across my scalp. I love these moments just after making love, when everything seems perfect and whole and I don't have the energy to do anything but bask in the afterglow.

His thumb moves back and forth across my back. I'm glad he seems happy. If he enjoyed that even half as much as I did, then he must be very, very satisfied right now.

That thought warms me for a while, which is why it takes me so long to remember what I said in that split second before climax took over my brain.

I love you. I told Ward I loved him.

Which is insane. I've known this guy for-what? A month? But I have to admit-that was one twisted, complicated, mind-blowing month. The first time I kissed him, I didn't even know his name. Now I know about his childhood, about his dreams of becoming an architect, about his secret connection to Carolson. I know that he fights when he doesn't know what else to do with his emotions. I know that there's a muscle in his jaw that twitches right before his restraint crumbles and he gives in to the intense pa.s.sion that always seems to be burning inside of him.

Is a month of madness enough to recognize love? Before Ward, I had Ian-Ian, who spent a year by my side, trying to help me through my grief over my father's death. Ian loved me, and it had almost broken my heart, not being able to say those words back to him. I'd thought I was too confused, too numb to love anyone.

But this...

I flatten my hands against Ward's back. He continues to stroke me, but he doesn't say a word. My gut twists.

He hasn't responded, I realize. He hasn't said it back.

I don't know a lot about how love works. My experience with men hasn't included a lot of long-term relationships. And that thing with Ian... If I being honest, that doesn't really count as a relationship. That was just a year of me being a b.i.t.c.h and using him emotionally. But if that time with Ian taught me anything, it was that if one person says "I love you," and the other responds with silence, well, that's a problem.

Maybe he didn't hear you, I tell myself. After all, we were in the throes of the most intense s.e.x we've ever had. Maybe he didn't understand a word I said. Or maybe he just thinks I was caught up in the moment.

It's better this way, I think. After all, I'm supposed to be convincing him to go back to Carolson. If he thinks I love him, that will only convince him further that I need him.

I have to be stronger than that.

I lean back slightly so I can look up at his face. His eyes are half closed, and he looks perfectly content. The sun brings out all the redder, more coppery tones of his auburn hair, even though the strands are wet, and I reach up and touch it. The left side of his mouth tilts up in a lazy smile.

I love him. Oh, I love him. It's a reckless thing to feel, especially considering our brief and wild history, but I've never claimed to be responsible or practical. I love him. And it's so liberating to admit that, if only in my own heart. I can't lie to myself. But I can keep it from him, at least until we figure some other things out. The best way to act on that love is to make sure he doesn't feel obligated to stay with me. It's the unselfish thing to do.

"Are you hungry?" I ask him, wrapping my arms around him again and rubbing my nose against his chest. "Because I'm suddenly starving."

He laughs that amazing laugh of his and gives me a squeeze. "Worked up quite the appet.i.te, huh?"

"You know it."

He slides my jeans off of his shoulder. "I guess you'll be needing these again, won't you?"

"That's probably a good idea."

"Well, I think you're going to need to work for them."

And before I have to chance to grab them, he takes off through the water. But he's forgotten to pull up his boxers in the meantime, and he only makes it about four steps before he falls forward. I leap on him from behind, reaching around him for my pants, and we wrestle with each other until we're breathless. Which doesn't take long, considering our recent exertions.

He keeps a hand on me as I sidle into my jeans under the water. It's probably to steady me, but there's a comfort, a protectiveness in that touch that makes those three words rise in my throat again.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I don't say them. Instead, I zip up my pants and then grab his hand, twining my fingers with his. He's here with me now, at least. He's mine in this moment. Right now, I can be selfish.

And I am.

CHAPTER THREE.