Free Lost in Us by Layla Hagen Page A

Undressing me. I barely acknowledge when the elevator stops and the couple gets out, wishing us a pleasant evening.
    The following minutes pass by as if in a dream. Our journey lasts for three more floors, then we step out and James takes a painfully long time to unlock his door.
    Finally there's only passion: his lips on my neck, his hands on my bare thighs, and my unskilled attempts at getting rid of his shirt, his jeans, and everything else that stands between his skin and me. We're both completely naked when he lifts me in his arms.
    "The bedroom's not that far away," he teases in response to my surprised yelp. I rest my head on his shoulder as he carries me through the darkness, moving my fingers playfully over his chest. He doesn't put me down on the bed, but in front of it, standing with my back to him. I make a move to turn around, but his hands on my hips keep me firmly in place. "I want you like this," he orders. 
    "It's not fair, I can't touch you," I whisper, my hands desperately seeking his skin.
    He bends me down, and I put my palms on the bed. He runs a finger down my spine, sending waves of cold shivers through me. And then he slams against me. Hard. One desperate moan after another escapes my lips as he thrusts again and again, harder and harder until my whole body succumbs to incontrollable shudders and I'm afraid my knees will give in.
    "James, wait," I gasp, and he lifts me with one arm, propping my knees on the bed without me having to ask for it. I straighten up, flattening my back against him, seeking his lips.
    "Do you want me to touch you?" he demands in a raspy, low tone as his thrusts become more brutal, his breaths more convulsive.
    "Yes," I beg him. "Yes, please."
    "Show me how much you want it," he commands. I take his hand from my hip and place it on my damp sex, more aware of my body than ever. And then he starts moving his blessed fingers around in little circles, my nails digging deep in his thigh as my orgasm starts building, making me shake and shudder until relief comes in an explosion that shatters my entire body when he calls my name. 
    A burst of laughter awakes me from my near unconscious state. I open my eyes, immediately regretting it. Light. Not a lot of it, but enough to hurt my eyes. The source must be somewhere on the bedside table on the other side of the bed, where James lies, visibly less disheveled than me. And amused.
    "What's so funny?" I ask weakly, wondering if I did something wrong earlier.
    "This is absolutely the last time I'm going out in public with you when all I want is to make love to you. I've never lost my head like this in public, except at some frat parties, but they don't count."
    There are several things about his sentence that make my stomach flip. First, the lovemaking thing. Surely only two people in a relationship talk about lovemaking. It's sex for the rest of us, isn't it? Then there's the never before thing. Of all the hotties he's been with, can there really be a never before for him?
    He kisses my forehead and gets up, announcing, "I need a shower. If you want something to wear, take anything from the closet. But I wouldn't mind seeing you run around naked." He winks and slips into the bathroom.
    I sit up on an elbow and, for the first time, take in the room. Everything from the white leather bed to the satin sheets covering me and the sleek, gray carpet on the floor reminds me of those storefronts for home decor where the price isn't even listed because it would give passersby without a limitless credit card a heart attack. 
    The masterpiece, though, is the glass wall directly opposite the bed, through which the entire city is visible. I get up and walk to the window, admiring the dazzling lights of this never-sleeping city.
    It's only when I get goose bumps all over my body that I realize I really do need something to wear. His closet is three times the size of mine, and I begin to randomly open doors, until I find the one I want, with towels