The Finish Line by Kate Stewart EPUB & PDF Free – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Author: Kate Stewart
- Language: English
- Genre: Inspirational Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Age Thirty-Seven
Hell, day one.
The sudden weight on my chest jolts me into consciousness a second
before hot, putrid breath hits my face. Opening my eyes, I’m met by the
unmistakable shadow of a four-legged fucking devil.
The rabid dog stands proudly on my chest as snarl-induced saliva
smacks me on the chin and his phlegmy sounding bark rings in my ears.
“Psychopathe.” Psychopath. I grumble, batting away the crazed French
bulldog, whose howl only increases the more I rouse and fight him off. He
doesn’t weigh much, but his bark indicates he’s got an incredible selfimage.
The fucker hasn’t stopped growling at me since I walked through the
front door yesterday, which Cecelia found highly amusing.
I did not.
Lifting to sit in the blackened room, I palm the empty space next to me
on the bed. Beau, a namesake I truly wish she hadn’t wasted on a dog, snaps
his jaws where she slept next to me just hours before, sitting on his
haunches, yapping, to make sure I fucking hate him.
And mere hours after our introduction, I decide I do.
Tense due to her disappearance, I glance out the window to see it’s still
dark, midnight dark.
I run a hand down my face, trepidation sneaking its way in.
I’d shown up after eight months, promised her the world, explanations,
breakfast, and vowed to earn her. Instead, I got a brief tour of the house
before I took a shower and passed right the fuck out. I don’t remember
much after the relief of getting through the door, mingled with the hot steam
relaxing me to a point I haven’t been able to reach in years.
And after all those promises I made, I failed to deliver on every single
one a mere hour after I uttered them—due to exhaustion. With the
adrenaline gone, I crashed and crashed hard.
What in the fuck, Tobias?
Tossing off the covers, I dress in the clothes I arrived in and slip into my
boots.
Searching the room for a clock, I spot a small one that looks antique—
solid gold with bells on top—sitting on one of her bookshelves and manage
to make out the time.
Four a.m.
The time stamp marks my first day of hell.
Not only that, I’m fairly certain she’s freaking out.
Merde. Shit.
I hoped she would sleep through the night, but I knew better. Jet lagged
from a thirty-six-hour trip, I passed out before we had a real conversation,
went practically comatose before I could give her a single explanation of
what kept me away. Briefly, I recall she changed into head-to-toe flannel
pajamas while I was toweling off. This detail I remember because I found it
amusing that she would go to such lengths to make sure I knew she wasn’t
going to reward me for returning—with her body. It didn’t stop her at all
from eye-fucking me when she thought I wasn’t looking.
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