Whispers of You (Lost & Found #1)(52)

Holt broke away from the kiss, but his mouth still hovered over mine. “Tell me you’re sure.”

I brought my eyes to his, letting him see the truth burning there. “I’m sure.”

“Wren.”

I felt my name on his lips, and the vibrations carried through the air and landed on my skin, burrowing deep.

Holt peeled the blanket away from me and then the towel. The blue in his eyes sparked and swirled as he stared down at me. His fingers skated over my skin as if he were imprinting the image in his mind forever.

Then he leaned over me. Holt pressed his lips to the scar over my heart. That heart seized in a stuttering beat. His lips traced the long line over my sternum, trailing down.

“Holt,” I breathed, starting to squirm. I wasn’t ashamed of the scars or even embarrassed. But here? Like this? I felt exposed. Like one raw nerve ending.

“Your strength only makes you more beautiful,” he said hoarsely, his lips still skimming. They followed my rib cage down and then rose to my breast.

I arched into Holt, searching for more. More contact. More him.

His tongue flicked out, tracing my nipple. “Your skin is like heaven—silk and you.”

My fingers tightened on his shoulders and then moved to the buttons on his flannel. I trembled, struggling to pull the fabric free. The need to feel him against me, all of him, was so strong that I couldn’t seem to get my hands to cooperate.

“Wren,” Holt whispered, his hands framing my face. “We’ve got time.”

But I wasn’t sure we did. None of us was promised forever, and I couldn’t expect Holt to stay in a place that held so much pain for him. I didn’t tell him any of that. Instead, I gave him another truth. “I need your skin against mine.”

His eyes searched mine as if he sensed there was something more. But then he sat up, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons. As he stood, he shrugged off the flannel and pulled his white tee over his head.

I couldn’t help but drink him in. It was my turn to burn an image into my memory. And I knew this one would ruin me for all others. Holt was lean muscle wrapped in lightly tanned skin—the color of the sun on a wheat field, a fading gold.

My fingers tightened around nothing at all. Because they ached to touch. To trail through the dusting of hair on his chest. To slide over the dips and ridges of his abdominals.

Holt’s fingers went to his jeans, his boots already removed somewhere along the way. Then his jeans were gone, too. I swallowed hard as Holt tugged at his black boxer briefs.

And then he was standing there, nothing but air in between us. God, he was gorgeous. Not just for this body, but because of the heart I knew beat beneath that muscle.

Holt moved toward the bed, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching up, my fingers ghosting over his chest, letting the sensations wash over me.

Closing his eyes, Holt breathed deeply. “Been dreaming about your hands on me every damn day.”

The same dreams had haunted me in sleep. I’d wake tangled in the sheets, restless and too hot. I’d try to take the edge off, but it was almost worse that way somehow.

He brushed the hair out of my face. “You have protection?”

I blinked up at him. “You don’t?”

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Cricket, there hasn’t been anyone in a long time. I realized it wasn’t fair to go there with a woman when the only one I wanted was you.”

His words carved themselves into my heart, ripping me open and searing me with the most beautiful pain. A tear slid down my cheek, and Holt swept it away with his thumb. “Hey. What’s that about?”

“There hasn’t been anyone for me in a long time. And I’m on the pill.” The truth was, there had only been one. A drunken night I’d regretted with everything in me. But I’d wanted that stigma of virginity gone.

Holt pressed a kiss to one cheek, then the other, before moving to my forehead and finally my lips. “Thank you for trusting me.”

My heart cracked, and I found myself wanting to give all the pieces to him.

Instead, I kissed him deeper. I lost myself in his taste and feel.

Holt’s hand slid between my legs as I arched into him. I gasped into his mouth as his finger dipped inside and then moved in long, languid strokes as if he were in no hurry at all.

But I was. I didn’t want to waste a moment. Not with Holt.

My hand wrapped around his length, and Holt let out a groan as I stroked him, up and down.

“Heaven,” he growled.

My finger skated over his tip, feeling a brush of wetness.

Holt’s thumb circled that bundle of nerves, and I let out a mewl as sparks lit under my skin. But I forced myself to pull away because this wasn’t how I wanted to come apart. I wanted Holt moving inside. Needed to feel him everywhere.

“Not like this.”

Holt searched my eyes.

“I need all of you.”

That blue flashed in understanding, and then Holt was rolling on top of me. He pressed another kiss to the scar above my heart and then his eyes didn’t leave mine. Not for a single a second.

Holt’s tip bumped my entrance, and then my legs encircled his waist. Everything stretched as he slid inside. A delicious ache, just shy of pain.

His forehead pressed to mine as I struggled to keep my breathing even. “You with me?”