Kelly Jamieson - Lost and Found

He’d been drinking, she could tell immediately, smelling it on him, but he wasn’t drunk. But then, she’d been drinking, too, she and Nate having finished off the bottle of Pinot Noir and started in on the Sauvignon Blanc.

“Long day,” he sighed. He yanked his tie down and then off, undid the top buttons of his shirt. He sat down on the couch beside her, Nate having moved to the arm chair across from the sofa when Derek had come in. Derek put his arm around her and pulled her against him, kissed her head. “How was your day?”

“Good.”

“Really?” He drew back and looked at her. “You’re not mad still?”

She sighed, pasted on a smile. “I’m okay.”

“Love you, Krissa.” He hugged her and kissed her mouth.

She closed her eyes. She loved him, too. He was her husband. For better or for worse. How could she leave him?

But she couldn’t deny the aching sadness still lingering deep inside her.

Nate watched Derek embrace his wife and kiss her, and shifted in the armchair. He’d almost been hoping she’d still be pissed at Derek. He deserved it. He should have been home with his wife.

For some reason, Nate was annoyed at his friend. He’d hurt Krissa. And then he didn’t even come home for dinner. Again.

Hell, it was none of his business. If Krissa was okay, he shouldn’t be worked up about it anymore either.

Krissa snuggled into Derek’s side, closer, and Derek put both arms around her. One hand stroked her hip and she rested her cheek on his chest, her hand on his shoulder. Then Derek slid his hand to the back of her thigh and lifted her knee across his lap. With a sigh, Krissa’s hand moved to Derek’s neck and she tipped her head back to look at his face.

“I’m sorry, babe,” he whispered. Nate could barely hear him. He wanted to look away from the increasing intimacy of their pose, but couldn’t. From behind his dark glasses, he knew they couldn’t really tell if he was looking at them or not. He faced the television screen but could see them.

Derek bent his head and kissed Krissa again, and Nate watched her mouth open beneath Derek’s. Nate’s groin tightened, heavy and full. The kiss deepened, Krissa’s hand on Derek’s cheek, his hand on her ass. As they kissed, mouths shifting, he could see tongues touching and licking, heard soft breaths and soft, wet suckling noises.

Someone groaned—he wasn’t sure if it was Krissa or Derek—and Nate’s cock swelled. Jesus. Had they forgotten he was there?

His cock throbbed beneath the fly of his jeans, and he altered his position in the chair again. He swallowed, but still couldn’t drag his eyes off the vignette of the couple making out in front of him.

Their mouths parted, wet and shiny, and they looked at each other. Krissa blinked, caressed her husband’s face. Derek nuzzled her neck, kissed her throat.

Krissa’s eyes drifted to Nate and widened. “Oh.” She pushed at Derek. “Derek. Stop.”

“Mmm.” He licked her throat and she quivered.

“Stop, Derek. Nate’s here.”

“S’okay,” he murmured. “He likes to watch. Dontcha, Nate?”

Derek lifted his head and sent a wicked smile Nate’s way.

Nate’s skin burned and tingled all over and his cock pulsed. He wanted to touch himself. He wanted to see more. He wanted Derek to touch Krissa. Hell, Nate wanted to touch Krissa.

He swallowed a groan but didn’t answer Derek, who had returned to kissing and sucking the soft flesh of Krissa’s neck and shoulder. Her head fell back.

“Derek…” her voice trailed off.

Touch her. Nate could see her breasts swelling beneath her thin T-shirt, begging to be touched. Christ, if Derek didn’t do it soon, he was going to.

Derek did it. His hand slid up over Krissa’s flat stomach under the T-shirt, and cupped her breast.

Nate was going to explode.

Krissa gave a soft moan that sounded like the word “no” but if it was, Derek ignored her, caressed her breast, the T-shirt riding high and exposing her smooth tummy.

Fuck. Nate was either going to whip his dick out and jerk off right there in front of them, or he was going to burst. Gritting his teeth, he rose to his feet and almost staggered out of the room.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” he muttered, and headed to his room.

He tore off the sunglasses, not bothering with the light in his room, and fell onto the bed, hands fumbling at his zipper. He shoved his jeans open and down, pulled out his aching cock and fisted it. He groaned into the soft darkness, the pull of his hand gratifying, relieving. He slid his other hand under his T-shirt, rubbed his chest as he thrust into his fist. Then he lowered his hand to cup his balls, squeezed, and pumped into his hand only a few times before he came, white hot streams of semen spurting onto his belly.

He lay there panting, staring at the ceiling.

Derek was only half right. Nate did like to watch. But Derek liked to watch, too.

Krissa watched Cameron lift up her shirt, exposing her full breast, the nipple distended, blue veins visible under almost translucent skin. Cameron directed the nipple into the mouth of her waiting baby, who latched on. Immediately her little cheeks worked as she suckled.

Krissa sighed as she watched, fascinated, envious. Her own nipples hardened and she ached way down low. Cameron adjusted the baby with a cushion beneath her arm and smiled down at her tiny daughter who gazed back up at her with wide eyes.

Krissa appreciated the beauty of the picture they made, but for some reason felt confused, a jumble of emotions inside her. Probably because of last night.

Heat cascaded over her. She’d had to escape the house, unable to stay home and face Nate all alone, all day. She closed her eyes at the memory of what she and Derek had done in front of him. God! How embarrassing.

And yet…exciting.

What had Derek meant—he liked to watch? Her imagination could go wild with scenes of Nate and Derek and…who? When? Oh, God.

She throbbed between her legs, clenched her thighs together.

“She slept eight hours last night,” Cameron said, raising her gaze from her baby to Krissa. “God, it felt good. The twins didn’t sleep through the night ’til they were almost a year old.”

“They’re boys. I hear boys are slower at everything.”

Cameron giggled. “It’s true. Look at them.” Her gaze went to the far end of the family room where the two boys played with plastic building blocks. “They’re three years old and just out of diapers.” She rolled her eyes.

“That’s not bad,” Krissa said.

Cameron grinned. “What do you know about toilet training?”

Ah. Busted. Krissa didn’t want to admit to Cam that she’d been reading all about babies and pregnancy for the last two years. She probably knew more than most mothers.

“And we had sex last night.”

Krissa choked on a laugh. “Cam!”

“What? That’s big news. It was the first time in…God. Months.” She sighed. “You’re supposed to wait six weeks, but after six weeks I was still, don’t touch me!”

“You look great.” And she did. Cam’s shoulder-length blonde hair could use some fresh highlights, and without any makeup her pale lashes and freckles made her look like a teenager. The faded T-shirt and old khaki shorts didn’t exactly do much for her, but hey, she was a mom at home with her kids. She looked fine.

Cam laughed. “I look like hell. But I’ve lost the weight. Just wish I had time to shower and put on make-up once in a while. What’s new with you?” Cameron touched a finger to baby Emma’s cheek.

“Um…do you remember Derek’s friend Nate?”

“The big shot photographer?”