Left Behind (Lost & Found #1)

by C. L. Stacey

  My trail ends when I get to her waist, and I snake my arm around her to pick her up until she’s hovering right above me. I let her guide me to her entrance, watching the expressions on her face play out as she lowers herself onto me, taking me all the way in.

  Dear God…

  The pleasure that rips through me is so overwhelming that I need to remind myself to breathe, forcing a sharp exhale from my mouth as I drop my head back against the headboard.

  With her hands planted flat against my chest, Lexi drops her lips to mine as she begins to move. She skips slow and steady and rocks faster, moving up and down, moaning and crying out each time her clit makes contact when I thrust from below.

  A soft chill runs down my spine when Lexi rakes her fingers up the back of my head. “God, I love it when you do that,” I growl into her neck.

  She runs her fingers through my hair again, this time latching on before tilting my head back, and I bring my hands around to grip the meat of her ass, taking control over the movement of her hips. She responds by taking my lobe between her teeth, applying just enough pressure to make it both pleasurable and painful at the same time.

  “Can’t help yourself, can you?” she pants, giggling when my fingers grip down harder. “Gotta bring your control issues into the bedroom, too?”

  I chuckle as I sit us up straighter, hugging her to me with an arm wrapped snugly around her waist, snaking the other into her hair to force her lips roughly back down to mine.

  Things take a wild turn. And we fuck. Like animals.

  She moans into my mouth, I growl into hers.

  I tug on her hair, tipping her head back to give myself access to her neck, and I ravage her, my mouth leaving angry red marks against her skin.

  For every move or roll of her hips, my fingers dig deeper into her skin.

  For every time she lifts, I slam her back down onto me.

  We continue this cycle as our hands savagely grope at each other’s flesh, with an occasional bite in between, completely losing ourselves in our heated state of passion.

  “Jackson,” she whimpers, and my stomach clenches almost painfully when I’m already right the fuck there.

  “Not yet, baby, hold on.” My hands clamp down tighter, lifting and dropping her onto me so that I’m filling her again and again.

  I push.

  She moans.

  I thrust.

  She claws.

  Repeat.

  Her desperate pleas grow more unintelligible the closer she gets.

  It’s wild and crazy, vicious and animalistic, but when we fall together with the other’s name on our lips, it is just fucking beautiful.

  Mine.

  It is two in the morning. I should be sleeping, but I keep putting it off.

  If you had a naked Jackson in your bed, you’d understand why I find this difficult.

  My heart feels so full right now I could scream. Though I do feel a bit at a disadvantage. He said he knew everything about me, but I know nothing about him.

  “Come back to me.” His voice comes from just above my head, bringing a smile to my face. “Where’d you go?”

  We are lying in bed, snuggled up under the covers, and I am currently using his perfectly sculpted arm as a pillow while running a finger over the ripples of his mouthwatering abs.

  “Nowhere.”

  “Liar.”

  “Just thinking…” I finally admit.

  “About what?”

  I answer with a sigh.

  “Lexi.”

  “Jackson,” I parrot his tone.

  He squeezes me to him, making me squeal between giggles. “What’s going on in that curious little head of yours?”

  I look up at him and decide to abandon my humor for some serious talk. “What’s my middle name?”

  “Isabelle,” he answers with no delay.

  “When’s my birthday?”

  “July the 5th. Next week,” he answers just as fast.

  My mouth tilts up into a half-smile. “What’s my favorite color?”

  “Green.”

  “My favorite drink?”

  “Coffee.”

  My eyes lower from his face to his chest. “How do I take my coffee?”

  “Black, two sugars.”

  “Where do I like to get my coffee?”

  “The Grind. Or wherever’s closest,” he answers right again. “What are you doing?”

  “So far, you know everything,” I say, disappointed by the fact.

  “Yea, but I already told you that.”

  “And I know nothing,” I add, my tone lacking confidence.

  “So, you’ll learn.”

  “That gives me so much to look forward to, but what does that leave you with? What do you have to look forward to?”

  His arm shifts from under me when he struggles to level his gaze with mine. “Look at me.” I look up from his chest. “You,” he answers. “I may know the little things, but I still have so much to learn about you. You are what I have to look forward to.”

  “I’m pretty simple. What if you get bored?” I half-tease.

  “That’s just stupid, Lexi. I won’t hear another word of this. Drop it.”

  The harshness in his tone makes me wince, and I regret bringing it up at all. “Are you mad?”

  “A little.”

  At least he’s honest.

  “Well, so am I.” So I say, but my tone doesn’t support that, and my mouth doesn’t either, because I’m smiling. I can’t stop smiling. “Why’d you bother learning these things? What did it have to do with making sure that I was okay?”

  Jackson shrugs, sending my head up with the small movement. “I just wanted to know.”

  “It’s not part of public record, so I presume Daniel’s the one who did all the collecting of data?” I ask. He nods. I chuckle. “Poor Alfred.” I grin when Jackson smirks down at me.

  “He’s very loyal,” Jackson says of his most trusted employee.

  I sigh, a happier one this time. “I think we just had our first fight.”

  My mouth spreads into a full-on grin at the sound of his deep chuckle.

  “Did we?” he asks. I shrug. Then he presses a kiss to my forehead. “Lexi?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You know me. You know how difficult I can be. You know how picky I can be. When I decide I love something, I keep it forever. You’re stuck with me. Don’t question my love for you as if it’s something temporary ever again, it’s insulting.”

  Relief floods my veins, and love floods my heart, and I downplay my smile by biting into my lower lip. “Okay.” I keep it simple, afraid that I may actually squeal with glee if I attempt to say more.

  “Oh, and one more thing, while we’re at it…” He lifts a finger in the air. I wait. “I understand when you’re angry, you say things. Mean things. But no matter how mad you are at me, please don’t tell me you hate me. Because it hurts like hell.”

  Now guilt floods my eyes. I bury my face into his side, embarrassed and ashamed. “I’m sorry,” my apology comes out muffled. Then I pick up my head up again. “In my defense, I only said that because I liked you so much.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “It did to me…” I argue softly, “at the time.”

  “Just don’t.”

  I shake my head. “I won’t,” I promise him, looking into his eyes like a sad little puppy dog, seeking forgiveness from its owner.

  His mouth gives into his smile. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s hard to be stern with you when you look at me like that.”

  I giggle when he presses another kiss against my forehead. “Jackson?”

  “Yea.”

  “Does this make you my boyfriend?” I tease.

  “Oh, jeez,” he sighs. “Boyfriend just doesn’t sound right at twenty-eight.”

  I’m blinking up at him again. “You’re twenty-eight?” I ask in disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re ancient!” I exaggerate. My mouth s
tretches into another grin when I’m rewarded with one of Jackson’s hearty laughs.

  “I told you that I took over my father’s company at twenty-one, and the car accident happened two years after that. That was five years ago. How old did you think I was?”

  “I don’t know!” I blurt. “I have always hated word problems.”

  He laughs. “Is our age difference going to be a problem for you?”

  “I’m twenty-two…” I say.

  “You’re almost twenty-three,” he corrects me, as if that makes any difference at all.

  I lift my gaze to his again, my eyes all serious and full of worry, and he exchanges his smile for a look of concern.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Are you ser—how is this an issue? You could have Googled my age—I’ve studied you for five years! Are you being serious?”

  “No,” I guffaw at his priceless reaction. “I don’t freaking care about your age, it’s just a number. A high one, but whatever.”

  Jackson folds in the arm I’m laying on until he’s crushing me against him, and I scream and giggle when he starts to tickle me, squealing as I try to break free. “You think you’re funny?” he asks, tickling me some more.

  I scream and I scream, but he doesn’t let up, and now I’m crying from laughing too hard. “Jackson, quit it! Please, I hate this!”

  “Say you’re sorry.” He holds his hand over my thigh, ready to squeeze if I don’t comply.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I shout at the top of my lungs, and he releases me. “You suck!”

  The sounds of his laughter haven’t died out completely when he says, “Aw, baby, I’m sorry. Come here.” And he pulls me back to him, using his thumbs to wipe the wet tear trails from my face. “In answer to your earlier question: Yes, as weirded out as I am by the label, I am your boyfriend. And, just a heads-up, I’m a jealous guy.”

  “I figured as much.” I roll my eyes.

  “No more kissing people who aren’t me,” he sets a rule.

  I huff in disbelief. “It’s an innocent peck on the cheek, Jackson. What am I gonna do, swat my friends away like they’re some insect at a picnic?”

  “If it’ll keep their lips off you, yes.”

  “You’re a child.”

  “Yes, and children hate to share.”

  I throw my hands helplessly into the air. “You’ve seen Harper kiss me on the mouth. Shall I swat her away, too?”

  His eyes dart to the side as he considers this. “No, actually, I find that kind of hot.”

  I smack a hand hard against his chest, and he half-coughs and half-laughs. “Pig.”

  “I was kidding.”

  “Uh-huh.” I scowl at him. “We don’t set rules like that in this relationship. We trust each other.”

  He drops his head into his pillow on a disapproving groan. “I don’t like it. I trust you, but I don’t like it.”

  “You’ll learn to.”

  “Lexi.”

  “Jackson,” I warn.

  “You need to learn to lose some.”

  “You need to stop looking at it as winning or losing.”

  “Touché.”

  “Great!” I say with a clap. “So, we’re moving on…”

  “No—”

  “Moving on,” I repeat. “I’d like to learn a few things about you.”

  Jackson releases a heavy, drawn out sigh. “Jackson Michael Anderson, born March 23rd. My favorite color is—”

  “Black.”

  He playfully narrows his eyes at me. “No, it’s red.”

  I frown. “Then what’s with all the black, Batman?”

  “Color of mourning, right?”

  “Oh…” My smile vanishes.

  He turns onto his back, staring up to the ceiling with a faraway look in his eyes. “She loved me in black.”

  “What was she like?” I ask, curious.

  “Elizabeth was her actual name, and she used to be a very happy person; smiled all the time, laughed about everything. She loved music. She loved to dance. She had this obsession with documenting every single moment; photos and videos, stuff like that.”

  That brings some confusion to me. Why haven’t I seen any? “I’ve never seen any in either of your homes,” I say.

  “This house used to be scattered with them. Amanda, my housekeeper you met earlier tonight, packed most of them away when she couldn’t take watching me torture myself over and again. I eventually bought the penthouse in the city, to get away from it. But on the nights I missed her, I’d come back here, and I’d play some of our old videos to remember some of our happier times.” His fingers stroke up my back, and he tightens his arm around me to tuck me in closer to his side. “Then I stopped.”

  I thought back to that conversation we had when he told me that I reminded him of his dead someone. “You said I remind you of her?” I tilt my head back to look up at him.

  He shakes his head. “I wasn’t talking about her. I was talking about Eli. It was hard for me to be around you, at first. Every smile or laugh I shared with you reminded me of what I took away…”

  “Hence, the constant sad look on your face.” I piece together the rest of the puzzle.

  “Yes, it was one of the many reasons why.” He nods. “You thought you reminded me of another woman all this time?” I nod. “I’d like to address something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You and Ellie are two different people, and I love you both for entirely different reasons. Everyone can have the little things in common. Yes, you smile, you laugh, you love music, you like to dance… but who doesn’t? You don’t remind me of her at all. Physically, too, you two look nothing alike—just in case you were wondering. I don’t want you to mistakenly assume that I fell for you because you look like her, or anything like that.”

  As strange as it may seem, having this conversation is therapeutic for me. I’m learning about his life before me, and I want to know everything. Plus, I thought it healthy for him to talk about her more, opposed to him just keeping all those feelings buried inside. So I don’t stop with the questions.

  “What did she look like?”

  His chest rises when taking a deep breath in through his nose. “Black hair, green eyes, five-two.”

  “How’d you two meet?”

  “At a Halloween party, back when we were still in college.” Jackson takes his free hand and gives a gentle push against my shoulder until I roll onto my back, then he lies over me, his body covering mine with his face hanging low so our noses are barely grazing. “Why are you asking me so many Ellie questions?”

  My gaze lowers to the hands I have pressed against his chest. “I don’t want us being together to be the reason you forget her,” I state honestly.

  In turn, he asks, “Could you ever forget Eli?”

  “No. Never.”

  “Same goes for me.” His fingers absently stroke my hair as we lie there and gaze at each other for a while. “We are moving on, Lexi. But doing that doesn’t mean forgetting the people we’ve lost, it means finally letting them go.”

  “You’re right,” I whisper. “I just…” A worried sigh passes through my lips. “I want us to work—”

  “We will work,” he speaks each word slowly, and with so much certainty, that it washes away any remaining concerns.

  Feeling comfortable enough to drop the subject, I nod, a small smile curling my lips.

  “Butterflies,” he says randomly.

  “Huh?”

  His fingers continue toying with my hair as he gazes into my eyes. “Eli had his reasons for calling you his butterfly. I just thought of a reason of my own.”

  My brows pinch together. “You did?”

  “The accident,” he begins, then his jaw twitches, “you said that you wished to die when you watched him slip away.”

  I bite into my lip, regretting having mentioned that to him. “Yea,” I say softly.

  “Butterflies are symbolic creatures. Their existence proves that second life
exists. A part of you did die with Eli that day, and you were never the same again. Us finding our way to each other, falling in love again, is proof that second life exists. It can be just as beautiful, if not more, than your first life, and I need you to believe that. Can you do that for me?” he asks.

  Tears cloud my vision of Jackson’s face when I nod. “Yes,” I breathe.

  “It’s me and you now. No more worrying about us, Lexi, I’m serious.”

  I nod again.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he reminds me.

  I nod again. “I know,” I say, my confidence returning.

  “And I’m not letting you go anywhere, either.”

  A laugh bursts from my lips, but I nod. “Okay, good.”

  He grins down at me, an expression that used to be so hard to come by, but now comes so naturally to him. I love it.

  I love the smile lines it creates when he does.

  I love the way his eyes crinkle up in the corners.

  I love how freaking perfect his teeth are.

  I love his face.

  I love his heart.

  I love him.

  And he’s mine.

  “You laugh, but I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” I run my fingers along his strong jaw, then over the smile lines by either side of his mouth. “Never let me go, Jackson. There’s no question there’ll be days where I drive you crazy, and on some of those days, you’re going to want to strangle me. But I’d take that over you ever showing me your back. Don’t let me go. Keep me like you promised. Stay and fight with me.”

  A smile ghosts his lips, and I trace over it with my finger. “I have no intention of ever letting you go, Lexi. The deeper I get into this with you, the more certain I become of you being my forever, my always.” He shakes his head. “You’re mine.”

  I nod, closing my eyes when his forehead comes to rest against mine. “And you’re mine.”

  It has been about a week since we had our beautiful little heart-to-heart in my bed.

  We’ve shared arguments every single day since then—sometimes more than once a day.

  There was one incident where I couldn’t get a hold of her because she and her new supermodel friends decided to go out for Tequila Tuesday—I wasn’t even aware that that was a thing—to celebrate her signing with Runway Models, and when she finally showed up to her building stupid drunk, I was furious.