Lost and Found Ch. 04

Hello, readers! I'm back again with another installment in Lost and Found. For anyone who might have come here by chance, Lila and Cameron's story began in"Becoming His."Some general themes--age gap, coming of age, BDSM with a male dominant and female submissive, drama, and romance.

The story continues where it left off, with some action coming up in this chapter. As always, I appreciate your readership and hope that you enjoy.

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It had been half an hour since their argument on the steps of the MFA, and they were still walking. Lila had no idea where they were going, and she was beginning to struggle to keep up with Cameron's long strides. He was straight-backed and still angry with her.

How exactly had their first day back together gotten to this point?

It was all pride, she decided, mostly his. Her only role had been one tiny suggestive statement toward Virginia who, she had already admitted to herself, she was sorry she had dragged into it at all. If Cameron was right about one thing, it was that the girl wasn't responsible for her mother's wishes. Ever since Virginia had fled the gallery, Lila calling after her to no avail, she had regretted what she'd said. Why hadn't she been able to find the guts to march up to Jean and tell her the same?

"Where are we going?" she asked Cameron as they rounded a corner. "Can we please... just... stop for a moment?"

"I don't know, can we?" he asked without stopping or turning around. "Are you ready to explain yourself?"

"Are you ready to apologize for how you spoke to me back there?" She caught hold of his arm and pulled him around to face her with surprising force. "Look, I'm sorry I said what I said to Virginia. It was in the moment, and I wasn't thinking. It wasn't out of jealousy, but itwaschildish, and I understand that. If I have the opportunity, I'll apologize to her. I was going to, but she ran away before I could."

Cameron was breathing hard. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking down at her.

"All right, fine. That's good. I hope you do apologize to her. Poor girl. As for Jean, you're right, I don't need people like her in my life, especially if they're going to try to interfere with my personal relationships. The way she insisted upon insinuating herself into this weekend as soon as I called to cancel..."

"So we're angry with the same person at last," Lila said quietly. She leaned her back against the low wall they were standing next to and pressed her hands into her knees, looking up at him. "And not really with each other."

Cameron gave a rueful laugh.

"No, I think we are angry with each other, if only over who should have pulled the plug on all of this sooner," he said. "I should have realized it was a terrible idea from the onset. Now my stupidity--my arrogance in thinking I could make this work--has cost both of us a relationship. And it could have been even worse."

His gaze held hers. She knew exactly what he meant. Back there on the steps, she could have decided to pull the plug--for good. For a moment, she felt powerful, as if she held his heart in her hands. The only problem was that she was holding her own, also.

"I think we need to figure this out between ourselves," she said at last. "This. Us. Whatever we're going to be. We're nowhere near strong enough to let outside voices in, not yet. Maybe that day will come--maybe--but we need to wait for it. If either of us jeopardize what we want together, then maybe we don't want it badly enough."

She drew a long breath and laughed.

"Jeez, I'm starting to sound like Tori," she said.

"What?" Cameron asked.

"She's good at giving advice."

"Well, whoever you sound like, you're right," he said. He reached down and took her hands. "Do you want to come out on my boat with me?"

She had to laugh.

"Isthatwhere we've been going?"

"Yes and no. I had an inkling we might end up there, so I used it as a general direction," he said. "If you come, I have to warn you of just one thing. Please don't be angry about it."

That piqued Lila's interest.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'm sure you remember Claire, right?" Cameron took one look at her face and shook his head. "No, it's not that bad, I promise. Not like she's going to be there or anything. It's just that she was the one who taught me to sail, and this boat was a gift she gave me way back when we were together."

"Wow," Lila said darkly. "Some of us aspire to give and receive flowers. Others, boats."

"You know she's from a different world when it comes to money. So a modest sailboat seemed like a very modest present in her eyes," Cameron said. "Anyway, I wouldn't have told you any of this, because who cares, and it's bad form to bring up your ex on a second first date or whatever this is. But Claire being Claire, she had christened the boat after herself. And being myself, I've never changed its name. I didn't want you to be blindsided when we arrived at the docks. So there."

Lila considered this for a moment.

"Okay," she said at last.

"Okay?" Cameron asked. "That's it? No yelling or screaming or kicking your feet? You really have grown up, Lila Rose Henson."

He was smiling at her. One of her hands was still in one of his, and he gave it a squeeze.

"Yes. It doesn't bother me," she said. "As long as you're not expecting me to gift you a boat, that is."

"You never know," he said. "Stranger things have happened."

Then he directed her down the street, and they began to walk again, hand in hand now. Eventually she broke their companionable silence.

"Since we're in the sharing mood, and the not getting angry mood," she said, "will you tell me the whole story of you and Claire? I know I've gotten bits and pieces. But I just feel like... All right, Cameron, if I'm being honest, it seemed like she wasn't over you. Was it really as simple as different sexual interests and drifting apart? What happened between the two of you?"

He glanced down at her, and she thought she saw a heavy weight in his eyes.

"She was the one who ended it," he said at last. "It was after we graduated college. I think she'd been feeling the itch for a while, and there was some familial pressure. They thought I was perfectly good as a jaunt while she was in school, as some sort of pet project if you like it that way, but they didn't think I was serious material, not for the long term. I guess, deep down, she must have agreed. The truth is I probably would've stayed with her if she hadn't called it off, but I wouldn't have been happy. Not truly happy. It was suffocating being with her."

"But you're... a billionaire." The words slipped off Lila's lips. "How could you not be good enough for her?"

"Oh, I surely am now," he said. "It was a few months after the breakup that I made it big. She'd thought I was just a deadbeat playing with other people's money, but I'd had a plan, you know. And if it hadn't worked I had grad school lined up, but that wasn't great in her books, I don't think she fancied marrying a humble professor."

"You were going to become a professor?" Lila asked. Her jaw had dropped. "What did you study at Harvard?"

He gave her a lopsided grin.

"Math. I mean, I'm no genius, but I'm pretty smart. At least I was back in the day."

She digested this, imagining walking into a college classroom and seeing Professor Winthrop with his shirtsleeves rolled up writing on a blackboard. The thought gave her shivers.

"Maybe I would've been better that way," he said. "A better person, I mean. Money changes everyone. For a long time I thought it could change everything. That I could forget my past, forget where I came from. But Claire always reminded me of that, too. That some things never change. That even if I learned French and how to dine continental and got that classy car and that eighty-thousand dollar wrist watch, we were still from different worlds. Leagues apart. Because I would never not be a poor boy from Fall River, Massachusetts with a druggie mother."

He had jerked his hand out of Lila's.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He shrugged, and she thought she saw some of the tension in his shoulders start to dissipate.

"Don't be. If this is going to work, we have to be open with each other. If the last time taught me anything, it's that." His gaze held hers for a moment. "Doesn't change how scary it is."

"It's scary for me, too," she said, the words falling out of her mouth. "Why do you think I haven't been able to be with anyone else?"

"I don't know, maybe because you never got over me?"

"You never got over me, and that didn't stop you from fucking your way around the world," she said. "No, it's because I didn't know if I could ever get that close to anyone else again. Because when it was over, it hurt so fucking much."

"I never want to make you feel that way again," he said, and she read the earnestness penned across his features. She swallowed.

"We did it to each other, I think," she said. She reached out and caught his hand once more. "I want to see this boat. But I have to warn you, I won't be much help. The only time I went sailing, I got hit in the head by the boom. My mother thinks I've never been quite the same since."

"Don't worry," he said. He had relaxed, and she basked in the confidence radiating off him. "I'll do all the heavy lifting. You can sit back and watch."

"Think we can maybe make the ballet tonight after all?" Lila asked. "I was really looking forward to Sleeping Beauty."

Cameron glanced at her.

"You know, maybe we should," he said after a moment. "Really stick it to Jean. I knew she was a bitch, but I didn't expect her to be that much of a bitch when it came to you."

"I'll let Tori know," Lila said. She pulled out her phone and began to text her best friend, who had left her no less than eleven messages since they had parted ways. By now Lila figured Tori and Jake were probably halfway through a bottle of champagne, and making out. Or talking business.

But probably making out.

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A half hour later, Lila sat at the stern of theClairewhile Cameron made preparations to leave the dock. The clouds had given way to a gorgeous late May day with all the promise of a glorious summer to come in the golden sunlight and the dancing shadows cast by newly-unfolded leaves. On the water, there was a fine warm wind that Cameron said would make for good sailing. They'd have no need for the engine today.

TheClairewas a ketch-rigged motorsailer. Lila had no idea what that meant, but she had nodded along to Cameron's explanation. She could definitely imagine him here with Claire herself--the boat's well-oiled wood paneling and the sleek red-and-blue lines along the hull screamed class and wealth. Oddly enough, though, the image didn't bother Lila. In fact, she wasn't sure she would have been bothered if the older woman had appeared to help trim the rigging and run the ship. Not after what she'd heard out of Cameron's mouth in the last hour.

"Give me a hand with this rope here?" Cameron called from the other side of the boat.

She joined him. As soon as they had gotten on board, he had doffed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Now she could see sweat beading on the back of his neck and darkening his hair. It wasn't a turn-off. On the contrary, it made her want to drag him below deck into the sleeping cabin, which he had shown her earlier. The force of her desire frightened her. But she'd gone into this with no rules for herself, which meant that if they were going to sleep together on their second first date, then they were going to sleep together on their second first date, no holds barred.

"You look hot," she murmured, taking the rope from his hands. She felt her cheeks color in the wake of her statement. "In more ways than one, I mean."

He grinned and raised his eyebrows at her.

"Why didn't we do this before?" she asked.

"Not enough time," he said.

"No, it wasn't," she said. The words fell out of her mouth. That had been happening a lot. "I was so pissed about that. At the start, it felt like I could spend a lifetime with you. And then it all fell apart."

"A lifetime, huh?" he said. "As your friend Tori might say, that's a pretty bold statement, isn't it?"

"I guess it could be," she said. The rope began to slide through her hands and she yelped, catching it with a firmer hold. "You didn't tell me this was going to move!"

"Sorry," he said. In an easy movement, he wrapped his arms around her waist and caught hold of the rope in front of her hands, then reeled it fluidly in and tied a neat bowline.

"If you were a sailing type of girl, that might make you swoon," he said, pressing a kiss to the back of her head. His arms released her. "All right, we should be ready to put out. Get your life vest on and find a seat."

She held her tongue about the life vest (after all, even though she couldn't sail, she could swim) and obeyed, settling on the bench looking off the back of the ship from which she had watched most of his preparations. Soon they were sailing at an easy clip toward the mouth of the Charles. Lila watched the boat's hull cut cleanly through the water and thought privately that she could get used to spending afternoons like this, and not only because it would mean being with Cameron. There was something about the sound of the ropes creaking and the sails ruffling in the wind and the sunlight on the water.

They had sailed out a ways into the bay when Cameron announced that he was going to drop the anchor. When he joined her, they sat in silence for several minutes, gazing back at the city skyline in the near distance.

Then one of his large hands slid up her arm to rest against the side of her neck. And suddenly, with their proximity and the dizzying sunlight, she thought she might actually swoon. It was their moment in the fitting room all over again: arguments forgotten, nothing but hot skin against hot skin. He bent his head, and his mouth seized hers.

His other hand had dropped down to her knee. In the darkness behind closed eyes she felt it begin to move up her leg. His fingertips tickled her thigh just beneath the hem of the dress Tori had picked for her. She broke away from him, breathless, knowing that they were hurtling toward a point of no return.

"Wait, Cameron, wait."

He stared down at her, his hand falling still.

"Do you want me to wait?" he murmured. Both hands moved to cup her face, and he smoothed stray locks of hair behind her ears. The tenderness of the gesture surprised her. "Do you want me to wait, or are you just saying that to say it? You know I'd never think any less of you, Lila, love."

"Kiss me again," she whispered.

He kissed her again, softer and slower this time. She tilted her head back, orange-gray lumens dancing against the darkened field of her vision.

"There's nothing like you," she heard him whispering. "You're everything. All the best and all the worst."

Joy and sorrow. Euphoria and agony. Her lips found his again, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, swinging her legs across his lap. They became one, a ball of human energy, each touch speaking a thousand words and bridging the chasm they had built between themselves in a single moment. She couldn't remember why they had ever stopped. She didn't know where she began and he ended.

He stood up, hoisting her with him in his strong arms.

"I'm going to make love to you the way I should have," he whispered. She clung to him, only aware of the movement of his steps. The slow descent into the dim of the cabin below deck. He lowered her down softly, tenderly, as if her body was a feather in his grasp. In the gray-gold light she watched him through fluttering eyelids as he unbuttoned his shirt. He looked as good as she remembered.

He looked better.

"Fuck, Lila," he breathed, leaning down to kiss her again. Their mouths clung to each other, an urgent clasp of lips, neither wanting to let go. He smiled, tracing the curve of her cheekbone with his finger. "The things you do to me. Sit up."

She sat up, only semi-aware of her body moving. As if in a daze she helped him lift the floaty floral dress over her head. He balled it up and tossed it into the corner, his eyes devouring her nakedness. Suddenly she felt a rush of shyness and crossed her arms over the lacy blue-gray bra that caged her breasts.

"It's too late to hide now." He took her hands and lowered them gently to her sides. "Fuck, you're beautiful. You must not know how beautiful you are."

"No," she whispered. "I don't."

"You're fucking gorgeous."

The corners of her mouth quirked up into a smile.

"There you go again with the French, Cameron."

As if seized by a frenzy, he buried his face in her neck and kissed her up and down, smothering a groan. When he raised his head, he said, "Say it again. Say my name again."

"Cameron," she whispered.

She felt her hands reaching for him before she knew what she was doing. He reached down to help her. His belt clinked loose, followed by button and fly, and then she held the hard length of him in her hand, almost weeping. He was the only one, still the only one. The man who had shown her everything. The man who had taken everything. The man to whom she willingly gave everything once again. She didn't wait for instruction, instead following her native instinct. He made a low noise in the back of his throat as her lips closed around the head of his cock. She sucked, working her tongue around him in circles while her hand stroked his shaft.

"You're a fucking natural, baby," he said, his breath coming ragged. "You were born to do this."

She raised her head just high enough to meet his eyes and let her tongue linger as she spoke.

"Only for you."

He groaned, leaning his head back. Her mouth enveloped him once more. She had been able to remember what this felt like--had imagined it God knew how many times--but she had forgotten how much she loved it. The power she held in her hands. The ability she had to undo him in these moments, evidenced by every gasp that escaped his lips.

"Shit, Lila," he said, taking hold of her face and pulling her up. "You're gonna make me--"

"That's exactly what I want you to do," she said. She reached up and pressed him back down. "Stay right there."

Another three greedy pulls of her mouth, and he exploded, his cock throbbing in her hand. She felt the warmth of his seed fill her throat, and she swallowed, raising her eyes to meet his. For a moment they were still. Then he drew her up to kiss her. His hands slid the straps of her bra down her shoulders, revealing her pert rosy-tipped breasts. She couldn't hold back a moan when he rolled her nipples gently between his thumbs and forefingers.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked her, one hand dropping down to the wetness soaking through her lacy panties.

"I want you," she said. She grasped his shoulder. Her fingertips dug into the muscles of his back. "Fuck me, Cameron."

"If you say so," he teased. He moved her panties aside, and the head of his cock probed her dripping entrance. "It will probably hurt, since it's been a long time."

"Then hurt me," she whispered.

"Fuck," he growled.

In a single thrust, he sheathed himself deep inside her. She cried out, clinging to him. He began to move slowly, the roughness of the initial motion gone. Pain gave way to undulating waves of pleasure, until she found herself bent backward, clawing at the sheets while she cried out his name like a chant, a prayer, a promise. Suddenly he tensed and thrust deeper, and she felt a sudden wet warmth inside of her.

"I shouldn't have done that," he whispered. His weight was on top of her, pressing her down into the mattress. "I'm sorry."