Sinful Angel: Lost Angels MC by K.M. Keeton

Author:K.M. Keeton [Keeton, K.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-09-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8 - Sara

I can feel the vibration coming up through the desk drawer. My fingers itch to reach for it, but I resist the long minutes until the bell rings overhead letting out class. Only having a few minutes before my next group of students start to file in, I grab for it eagerly with a smile, but my smile soon vanishes.

I can’t make it tonight.

The rest of the day seems to drag, and when I do leave for the day, something wanes in me when I don’t see him waiting for me. I know he already said he wouldn’t be here, but I wasn’t expecting to feel this upset about it.

After arriving home I expect to feel somewhat better after the long day, but now that he’s been here in my space there’s an echo of all that we’ve done. Why did I think bringing him here was a good idea? Now that he’s got what he wants he may very well not come back. It was most likely my break down that I had right in front of him! What was I thinking?

Brushing the thought aside I head to the kitchen to fix something quick to eat, and tonight I decide calls for a side of wine. A turkey sandwich, cheese, lettuce, mayo thrown in, and yep red wine. It’s Friday night, I’ve got nothing planned for tomorrow besides grading papers so I think this is exactly what I need. I plop down in front of the TV, eat my sandwich while some trashy movie plays, and wine…there were at least three or four glasses involved before I got really comfortable on my couch.

Somewhere in between Stacy calls. I was at that inebriated state where I would just let loose anything that popped into my head. So she got the good, the dirty and the doubtful concerns that were rummaging through my brain.

I'm not sure what woke me, but at 2:30 am not much phased me, I was going back to sleep, but this time in my bed. Trying to work out the stitch in my neck, I make my way to my bedroom. Deciding to take all my clothes off and turn around to just put more on just to fall asleep was wasteful. So I strip my skirt, my flowy blouse, and stay in the lacy number I had decided to put on before work, thinking I’d have someone other than myself enjoying it and get under the covers. It’s minutes before I’m asleep again.

This time I know what’s woken me, there is an insistent knock coming from my front door, and whoever is standing behind it better have a good reason. It's only 9 am, the only day during the week I get to sleep in, and my drinking last night has given me the most pounding of headaches.

I blindly reach for my robe that hangs by my bed side and throw it over myself. Again with the knocking, whoever it is they will be lucky if they aren’t dead when I get there.

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