Lost Without You (The Lost Series Book 2) by Tracie Douglas

Author:Tracie Douglas [Douglas, Tracie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: TRACIE DOUGLAS
Published: 2017-03-24T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Caveman Demands

Missy

I look at the clock and swear loudly. I’m late for work.

Slipping out of Kingston’s bed this morning was the hardest thing I’ve done in a long time. I didn’t want to leave, but I hadn’t expected to stay and was unprepared for work today. I made sure to leave a note next to the coffeemaker before leaving his house. Hopefully, he doesn’t think I’m running away.

As soon as I walked in the door, I began gathering what I needed to bring with me. My bag was packed, a bag with as much clothing as it could hold, and I made a mental note to go by the store today after work and buy toiletries for his place.

Last night was beautiful, and while there may not have been sex involved, the fact he wanted to hold me all night was just as intimate. But it wasn’t the kind of intimacy I was hoping for. Even though we were both exhausted, I secretly hoped he’d wake in the middle of the night and fuck me senseless.

I growl at the thought, throwing open my closet door, desperately looking for my shoes. I’m always losing them, and no matter how hard I try, I never remember to take them off at the door. Maybe it’s because I’m too exhausted by the time I get home, or maybe it’s because I’m truly lazy at heart. Whatever the reason, I tear my house apart before every shift to find them. I don’t have time for this.

I hate being late, and it doesn’t help I had a late start today because I slept through the alarm I set on my phone. Every time I drifted off to sleep, I dreamt of him and his glorious cock sliding in and out of me, only to wake right before finding the big O. I groan loudly, my frustration no longer about shoes and missed alarms. I pick up my overstuffed bag and head downstairs, hoping for some miracle I can get out of the door soon. There is a knock on the door, and just as I reach the bottom step, it’s matched with a louder, more impatient pound.

“Just a second,” I call out, dropping my bag in the entryway. I turn my head and finally spy my shoes tucked neatly on my shoe rack. I crinkle my brow, trying to remember when I put them there. I could have sworn I took them off as soon as I got to the top of the stairs yesterday.

I shrug thinking maybe I was too exhausted when I walked through the door to remember putting them there. I punch the alarm code into the panel beside the front door before unlocking it and turning the knob. The door opens, and Kingston’s large body fills the doorway, pushing me back until he’s inside, the front door closed and locked behind him.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, taking in the firm look of his jaw and the blistering heat in his eyes. He looks like he is about to tear into someone.

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