Whispers of You (Lost & Found, #1)

by Catherine Cowles

The need to feel him against me, all of him, was so strong that I couldn’t seem to get my hands to cooperate.

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.”

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.

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.

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.”

“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.”

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.”

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.

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 d...

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.”

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?” My thumb traced his lips and then trailed down his throat, the stubble there prickling my skin. “I’m with you.”

Holt tilted his hips, arching deeper into me. My mouth opened on a silent plea as my fingers pressed into his shoulders, nails digging in.

Everything in me quivered as Holt hit that spot deep inside. The one that made light dance across my vision and had tears leaking from my eyes. I only wanted more. We met each other again and again, clinging to the need building between us.

Holt pressed on that bundle of nerves. It was too much. The rightness of Holt moving inside me. The overload of emotion. Sensation. All it took was one last spark.

Holt arched into me, impossibly deeper, and then I was falling. But there was no fear because he fell with me. Whispers in the air all around us. Whispers of him. Of us. Of the past. Of the present. Of forever.

Because a fear still lived down deep; one that told me the whispers of him would be all I ever had.

My lips trailed down Wren’s spine. She let out a sleepy little moan that had me grinning against her skin. “Morning.”

Likely because Wren and I had lost ourselves in each other more times than I could count. As if we were trying to make up for all the time we’d lost. And when we’d both been too spent to continue, we’d slept tangled in each other.

“Need sleep,” she grumbled. I couldn’t help my chuckle. Wren flipped onto her back, not bothering to pull the sheet up. “I missed that sound.” “My laugh?” She nodded, her fingers ghosting over my throat. “I thought I’d have all your chuck...

I’d stolen so much from her. Those chuckles. Our life—the one we’d planned for so long. I cupped Wren’s face, my thumb sweeping back and forth across her cheek. “Never...

Promises she worried I’d never be able to keep. Maybe she wasn’t ready to hear them out loud, but I’d give them to her silently. Inaudible prayers lifted into the air. And I’d give her actions—the strongest words of all. I pulled Wren into my arms. “Okay. No promises. But no pulling away either.”

I pressed a kiss to the spot she was nibbling. “One day at a time. It’s all any of us can do.”

And I would use those days—every single second of each of them. I wouldn’t let Wren down. Not this time.

“This is much better than when I make coffee.” I grinned. “Pretty sure you burn coffee, too, Cricket.” She scowled at me. “I do not.” “Mm-hmm.”

Wren grabbed a pillow and smacked me with it. “Rude.” I laughed. I wasn’t holding back on any of those chuckles. Not when Wren had been missing the sound.

“Sorry. I will repay you with muffins.” I handed her one from the nightstand. Wren’s eyes widened. “This is warm.” “It’s just a mix, but they’re damn good.” She bit into it and mo...

“Why do I have the feeling you’re not asking if I’m sore?” I turned on my side, my fingers running up Wren’s blanket-covered leg, dipping between her thighs. “I want to know that, too. If I need to be taking care of you.”

I kissed her softly. “Good. Want to know how your heart is, too.”

I’d checked my phone this morning and there hadn’t been anything other than a text reading: Don’t let Wren out of your sight. Didn’t exactly give me the warm fuzzies.

I gave her arm a gentle tug, pulling her back to the bed. “We’ve got time. I need to talk to you first, and you need to eat. The last thing we need is you passing out.” Wren grumbled something under her breath about overbearing alpha males but shoved a piece of muffin into her mouth. “Talk.” I pressed my lips together to keep from grinning. But that smile didn’t feel nearly as tempting when I thought about what came next.

The husky appeared at the sound of her name, panting around a bone. Wren arched a brow. “I’m not the only one being spoiled, I see.” “Gotta work on both my girls.”

I dropped the small pocketknife onto her lap. Wren stared at it, not moving an inch. The knife was worn, the engraving on the side practically rubbed off because I’d run my fingers over it so many times. Holt Hartley. Love you forever. Happy 18th Birthday. Love, Cricket. “You kept it.” It wasn’t a question, but it was begging for an explanation. “It’s been everywhere I have. Wouldn’t go on a mission or job without it. It’s kept me safe more times than I can count. Now, it’s going to keep you safe for a little while.”

Because even when she was safe and placed it back in my hands, I would still be here.

And sooner or later, she would believe that forever was just a lifetime of a little whiles.

His fingers had been linked with mine, but his head was on a swivel, eyes scanning the road and the streets of downtown. Likely looking for a bogeyman that could jump out at any moment.

“What are you doing?” My gaze snapped to Holt. “What do you mean?” His finger circled the air in front of my face. “Erasing everything you’re feeling. Hiding from the world.” Of course, he saw that. He’d always seen it all. Every single time I found myself drowning. Except the one time I needed him the most.

Just that some emotions are only for the people you trust most.” A flash of pain streaked across Holt’s face. “You did that the first day I saw you.” I didn’t look away. Not from Holt or his hurt. “I did. But I didn’t keep anything from you yesterday. You saw it all.” I’d let my walls tumble to the ground and left myself raw and exposed. Holt’s hands framed my face. “Thank you.”

I leaned forward, brushing my lips against his. I couldn’t fight the pull to soothe Holt. It was too strong.

His hand found mine the second I was out of the vehicle. I squeezed his fingers and then tried to let go. He wouldn’t release me.

“You’re not hiding us, are you?” My jaw went slack. “No, but I don’t need anyone knowing my business either.” Because if he decided to leave, Holt wouldn’t have to face countless nosy people around town. I would.

“Not going to pretend I’m not in love with you, Wren. Missed touching you. Sometimes, I’d be walking and swear I felt your hand in mine.”

Holt dipped his chin and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Yeah.”

But when his gaze caught on our hands, his mouth curved. He was polite enough not to say anything, though. Nash was not. “Holy shit.” Nash let out a hoot from the couch. “It’s a Christmas miracle in the middle of spring.” “Nash…” Holt warned. “What?” Nash asked with mock innocence. “I can’t be happy for my brother?” “You are welcome to your happiness, but you are not welcome to give Wren a hard time.”

“Little Williams, you don’t look too rested. Could someone have kept you up all⁠—?” Lawson threw a pen at Nash.

“I know the doctors said that I might have been confused because of the blood loss and trauma, but I swore there was a third person in the house that night.” Lawson leaned forward in his chair. “I thought you said you were mistaken. That it was only two.” “The cops back then... They made me doubt everything I remembered if it didn’t fit with their narrative.” “Assholes,” Holt muttered.

“I’ve played that night over and over in my head—even when it was the last thing I wanted to think about. I heard someone downstairs. Abel had told me the police were on their way, and I thought it was them, that they were sneaking upstairs. I thought I was going to be okay.” A muscle in Holt’s jaw ticked wildly as he gripped the back of a chair. I didn’t let it stop me. I had to get it out. “I heard them coming up the stairs and then heard someone say, ‘Where the hell is Holt? We need them both.’”

“I was glad you weren’t there,” I whispered. “I never would’ve made it if something had happened to you.” So many emotions blazed across Holt’s face. They moved so quickly, I could barely track one before it morphed into the next. Then he was moving. He pulled me against him, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m right here, Cricket.”

I gripped his shirt, my hands fisting there. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

I turned in Holt’s arms, facing Lawson and Nash, but Holt didn’t let me go. The heat of his body seeped into my back and felt far too comforting.