Lost In Us (Lost 1)

"You've made me feel more alive in the time I've spent with you than he did in six years."

"Is that so?" He pushes the laptop away, hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me under him in a fraction of a second.

We lock eyes, and all words escape me as I stare into his deep blue eyes. I wish there was a way I could let him know just how alive he makes me feel. How he turns the blood in my veins to liquid fire. How it burns so bright I am afraid it will turn me to ashes any second now. I don't need fantasy worlds to lose myself in to forget my pain and guilt, like I needed in all those years with Michael. I lost myself in James. In us.

I run my fingers on his chest, down to his hips, and then under his shirt, tracing the contour of his abs. "So what other things do you have in mind?"

"Mmm… I think you already guessed my thoughts." He laughs against my lips, then kisses me softly. "Any special requests?"

"I want you to make love to me for two days straight."

And love we make for the next two days, sneaking food and sleep in between, heaps of the former and far too little of the latter. James capitulated next to me a few hours ago, falling into a deep sleep. For some reason, I can't sleep. Exhausted as I am, a strange energy, emanating from deep inside my chest, fills up every cell in my body. I wonder if it's possible to be too happy. A twinge of regret fidgets itself inside me at the thought that we'll leave tomorrow. In four hours actually. It's four o'clock in the morning now, and I told James we need to leave from here at eight o'clock at the latest so I can make it to Stanford in time for my lecture. Thanks to Jess's stroke of genius—packing my books—I don't have to make a stop at home on the way.

I prop myself on an elbow, watching him in the dim light coming from the lamp on his nightstand. He sleeps on his stomach, with his back exposed. I trail my fingers on his lips, aching to feel them on mine again. Even in his sleep, his lips look as if they'll curl up in a smirk any moment now. I can't help myself and steal a quick kiss.

> His eyes blink open.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you up."

"What time is it?" he mumbles.

"Four o'clock. Go back to sleep."

"Not a chance," he says, and his lips do curl in a smirk. His arm curves around my waist, and he pulls me so close to him, I can feel his erection against my leg. Every nerve in my body becomes hyper-aware of the closeness between us. God, I will never have enough of him. I can only hope he'll never have enough of me, either.

"You naughty boy. What were you dreaming about?"

"You," he whispers against my lips.

"And what were you doing to me?"

"Exactly what I'll do now. Turn around," he commands, his eyes implacable. My folds drip with desire. I do as he says, preparing to lift myself on all fours, but he pushes me into the mattress, with my back up, climbing on top of me, the muscles of his torso pressing against my back. He slings an arm under me, cupping my breast. No air reaches my lungs as he twists my nipple gently.

His hot, irregular breaths make the hairs at the nape of my neck stand on end. His other hand touches me right where I need it to.

"Christ, you're wet already." His teeth pull gently at my earlobe. "Who's the naughty one now?"

I open my mouth to answer, but instead of words, a moan comes out, as he starts circling my clit with his fingers, plunging inside so deep I'm certain I'll fall apart under him. He pulls out, then thrusts again and again, filling me. I can't move under him, arch my back, or escape in any way the pressure of his fingers circling my tender spot. And this makes it so much more intense. My whole body shakes under him as wave after wave of quivers ravage me, cold sweat forming on my skin. It kills me that I can barely touch him. My hands seek his skin desperately, scratching his thighs with a vengeance. Spasms tear me apart, starting from the spot where his blessed fingers work their magic on me. I search the pillow, biting in it.

"Don't. I want to hear you scream, Serena," he gushes in my ear.

And so I scream, as the sound of his own relief fills my ears, his body slamming into mine with a sizzling desperation.

Silence follows, as he falls on top of me, his ragged breaths chilling me. I don't know how long we stay like this before he moves to the side, pulling me in an embrace. I kiss him softly, then snuggle against his chest. He interlaces his fingers with mine, touching my forehead with his lips.

"I want to spend forever with you," he murmurs.

A wave of warmth spreads through me, melting my insides as it does, except my heart, which pounds so hard I'm positive it will burst through my chest. It doesn't. But something else can't wait to burst out of me. Words. I say them without fear and restraint this time, not like the first time I said them, at the hospital.

Squeezing his fingers lightly with mine, my core brimming with hope, I say, "I love you, James."

For one blissful second, I think he will say it back to me.

And then the hope freezes inside my chest, turning into a ball of ice that explodes in a thousand shards.

He pulls his fingers away from mine, his entire body stiffening.

Just like in the hospital.