Lost Her (Lost #1) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Ginger Sharp
not passing out. Ryan is such a strong man. He is a little over six feet tall, but he has always had amazing muscle tone from playing soccer and ice hockey. But hearing him winded and whining about the terrain is making me laugh.
We walk up to the front door of the house and I am fiddling with keys to open the door. Ryan breaks out in a drunken laugh then he offers what is so funny to him, “Livi honey, it is pitch black here and back home in Jersey you’d be freaking out to get out of your Lexus truck in the driveway without the driveway lights on and you do not even have a light on inside this place, so unlike you.”
“Your eyes get adjusted to the darkness, but tonight there is no moon to light the way and I was not excepting company,” I look at him as I push open the door and hit the light for him.
He walks in and the look on his face is a little taken back. He walks over to the refrigerator and opens it. He grabs a beer and guzzles it. Then he is digging around for more to drink. “Do you have water?” he asks. “I am parched and I have had too much alcohol.” I laugh at him knowing his threshold and point to the lettuce crisper in the refrigerator.
He pulls out water and drinks that next. “Please show me around” he asks me.
“Really simple, Kitchen, dining, office and living room,” as I motion with my hand, “bedroom and bath over there .”
“This really works,” he says with a wink and continues to speak, “That coffee table is gorgeous.”
I laugh and it makes me weak to know that Ryan and I still have the same eye for beauty. “Señor Marquis made it for me and I am a little protective of it, so no feet or bottles on that table,” I smile to him.
“No way, he made it? That silly man with the American jokes? He is a true talent. Can he make kitchen tables?” Ryan asks as he sits on the couch and runs his hand over the wood grain. My brain starts working to wonder why Ryan wants a kitchen table. I wonder if he is moving or something. I walk over to the closet grabbing a blanket and pillow for Ryan. I go to give him the blanket when I see him trying to get his dog to cuddle with him on the couch. He is drunk and being all mushy.
“Good night,” I say while laying the blanket and pillow down on the arm of the couch, “I have to head to bed, school here starts super early”.
“How early?” he questions with a raise of his eyebrows.
“Seven in the morning and you may be up too since the sun shines right through this house in the morning,” I say while walking away into my room. I close my bedroom door and get ready for bed.
I head to the bathroom to wash up and hear Ryan grunting. I guess the tequila has decided to turn on him and aggravate his stomach. I quickly finish up in the bathroom and head back to my room. I close the door and climb into bed. I am having a hard time sleeping trying to figure out why he is here and I know this is going to be hard for me. I finally doze off to be awoken by the sound of Ryan being sick in the bathroom. I know I should ignore him, but I can’t. He is a lot like me when getting sick to his stomach, the nausea and dry heaving is unbearable. I jump out of bed and grab a hand towel from the closet. I run to the kitchen sink and wet it with ice cold water. Turn around walking fast to the bathroom and I open the bathroom door. Ryan is sitting on the floor with his arms draped over the tub with his cheek resting on the ledge of the tub. His back is to me and he is shirtless. I am watching his labored breathing and all his back muscles contracting with each breath. My mind wanders off again remembering feeling those muscles under my hands while we were intimate. I want to touch him and feel his back muscles under my hands again. I walk toward him and I place my hand on his sweaty back and startle him. I guess he fell asleep. I placed the cold wet towel around his neck and he takes the end and wipes his face with it.
He whispers, “Thank
We walk up to the front door of the house and I am fiddling with keys to open the door. Ryan breaks out in a drunken laugh then he offers what is so funny to him, “Livi honey, it is pitch black here and back home in Jersey you’d be freaking out to get out of your Lexus truck in the driveway without the driveway lights on and you do not even have a light on inside this place, so unlike you.”
“Your eyes get adjusted to the darkness, but tonight there is no moon to light the way and I was not excepting company,” I look at him as I push open the door and hit the light for him.
He walks in and the look on his face is a little taken back. He walks over to the refrigerator and opens it. He grabs a beer and guzzles it. Then he is digging around for more to drink. “Do you have water?” he asks. “I am parched and I have had too much alcohol.” I laugh at him knowing his threshold and point to the lettuce crisper in the refrigerator.
He pulls out water and drinks that next. “Please show me around” he asks me.
“Really simple, Kitchen, dining, office and living room,” as I motion with my hand, “bedroom and bath over there .”
“This really works,” he says with a wink and continues to speak, “That coffee table is gorgeous.”
I laugh and it makes me weak to know that Ryan and I still have the same eye for beauty. “Señor Marquis made it for me and I am a little protective of it, so no feet or bottles on that table,” I smile to him.
“No way, he made it? That silly man with the American jokes? He is a true talent. Can he make kitchen tables?” Ryan asks as he sits on the couch and runs his hand over the wood grain. My brain starts working to wonder why Ryan wants a kitchen table. I wonder if he is moving or something. I walk over to the closet grabbing a blanket and pillow for Ryan. I go to give him the blanket when I see him trying to get his dog to cuddle with him on the couch. He is drunk and being all mushy.
“Good night,” I say while laying the blanket and pillow down on the arm of the couch, “I have to head to bed, school here starts super early”.
“How early?” he questions with a raise of his eyebrows.
“Seven in the morning and you may be up too since the sun shines right through this house in the morning,” I say while walking away into my room. I close my bedroom door and get ready for bed.
I head to the bathroom to wash up and hear Ryan grunting. I guess the tequila has decided to turn on him and aggravate his stomach. I quickly finish up in the bathroom and head back to my room. I close the door and climb into bed. I am having a hard time sleeping trying to figure out why he is here and I know this is going to be hard for me. I finally doze off to be awoken by the sound of Ryan being sick in the bathroom. I know I should ignore him, but I can’t. He is a lot like me when getting sick to his stomach, the nausea and dry heaving is unbearable. I jump out of bed and grab a hand towel from the closet. I run to the kitchen sink and wet it with ice cold water. Turn around walking fast to the bathroom and I open the bathroom door. Ryan is sitting on the floor with his arms draped over the tub with his cheek resting on the ledge of the tub. His back is to me and he is shirtless. I am watching his labored breathing and all his back muscles contracting with each breath. My mind wanders off again remembering feeling those muscles under my hands while we were intimate. I want to touch him and feel his back muscles under my hands again. I walk toward him and I place my hand on his sweaty back and startle him. I guess he fell asleep. I placed the cold wet towel around his neck and he takes the end and wipes his face with it.
He whispers, “Thank
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