Page 29 of Lost and Found

“No?”

“No.” He glances at me. “You never did.”

This is approaching a territory I’m unsure I’m ready for. “Don’t fish, Silas. You know I always liked you. You’re pretty hard not to like.” I shiver, and he unzips his hoodie and tosses it at me. I openly gape at the concrete mound of his shoulder where his shirt has ridden up.Thatis a new development.

“Eyes up here, Red.”

I shrug unrepentantly. “Can’t help it. You give good shoulder.”

“I give better head,” he says, and we instantly detonate into laughter. “I didn’t even mean it that way,” he gets out.

“But what a happy convenience!” I flush to the tips of my fingers. My body is warm and all abuzz beneath his hoodie, and I feel so, so good. So confident he can make me feel even better.

I want to touch him, I think, and so I let my knuckles brush his before I can second-guess it. He has no outward reaction, so I do it again. When I do it a third time, he pauses on the pavement, then steps off into the shadow of a house, leaning himself up on the side.

“Are you playing with me, Ruby?” he asks.

“Ruby? Why Ruby?” I say, stalking close to him again. “And would you like it if I were?”

He reaches across the space between us to hook a finger into one of my belt loops, slowly pulling me into him. His other hand comes up and threads a lock of my hair between his fingers. “What do you think?” he asks.

“I think,” I say, pressing my chest into his ribs and fisting his shirt, “you’d be fun to play with.”

He spins us around, switching our places, gently planting me to the wall. “It’s a happy coincidence, by the way,” he says, caging me in with his warm body.

“What is?” I ask huskily. I gulp as I watch him methodically wrap my hair around his fist before taking back his hand.

“You said it was a happyconvenience, a few minutes ago. That I give great head. The expression is ‘coincidence.’ ” He’s so close I can feel the rumble of his voice. I imagine the cups of my ribs capturing it inside me.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Seems extremely convenient to me.” My teeth sink into my lip, and he swallows, drawing closer.

“Jesus Christ, do you hear that?” he rasps. My chest rises and falls against his.

“Hear what?”

“Is that your heart or mine?” he whispers, inches from my mouth now.

“You’rehigh,” I say. To myself as much as I do to him. My whole body is one throbbing pulse.

“So are you,” he replies soberly. He dips back to meet my gaze again. “Tell me you feel this, too.” And I know he’s not talking about the weed.

I pant but can’t tear my eyes from his. My palm snakes across his pec, and his comes over it to hold it in place. My hips bow up into him, and he hisses, our noses bumping softly.

“Bea. Bea. Bea,” he chants in synchrony with his heart’s rhythm beneath my hand, more of his weight leaning into me. My eyes fall shut and my lips part open. His free hand splays across my waist, thumb pushing into a spot just beneath my belly button. “Bea. Bea. Bea.” His nose slides over my cheek. And then his mouth grazes mine, the tiniest press of our lips.

A small, destitute moan sticks in my throat when he pulls away.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“A little late for that,” I say.

His laugh is a hot breath on my chin. “Oh, Bea,” he chides. “If you think that was a kiss—”

I cut him off with my mouth. He makes a rough, satisfied hum that undoes something in me and summons up something new, chills racing over my skin like I just heard the notes to my new favorite song. He breaks away before he comes back to me at a new angle, slotting my lower lip between his and scraping it with his teeth. Pinching and soothing. Pushing and pulling. I nip him in return, and an impatient hand flies up to cup my jaw, holding me open so his tongue can taste me. We twist and squirm until we pick up speed and try to get at more. He sucks a spot beneath my ear, and my hands sneak beneath his shirt, fingertips digging into the skin of his hard back. He groansOh my god, Beainto my neck when I slide them into his jeans and squeeze his ass over his briefs. So firm I want to cheer. I whimperTouch meinto his jaw.

“Wait,” I gasp when he snaps open the button of my jeans. “How far are we from your house?”

“This is it,” he grits.