Page 132 of Caveman (Wild Men 1)

When we come out of the kitchen, the kids aren’t in the living room, or on the stairs. Looks like there was no reason for panic after all. Except I’ll be late for work if I don’t get my ass into the shower and into my clothes in the next five minutes.

If only I can let go of Octavia… I have my arm around her waist and she’s leaning her head on my shoulder, her dress in disarray, her hair a cute mess. We smell of sex, and my dick’s still hanging out. Shit, I need to get rid of the condom.

“Okay?” I kiss the top of her head, drawing in the flowery scent of her shampoo and something else, sweeter, that’s all Octavia.

She nods against my bare skin, presses her lips to my shoulder, and I swallow a moan because yeah, I am getting hard again, and there’s no time to do anything about it.

A cold shower, I decide. Very cold.

“The kids are really quiet,” she whispers, lifting her head, tilting it to the side in that adorable way of hers when she’s in thought.

Or maybe she’s listening for sounds? In any case, it’s cute as hell.

Hot, too.

Before my mind goes down that path again, she straightens. “I’d better go check on them.”

“Wait.”

“It’s what you pay me for.” She winks at me, but I frown.

“Fuck that. You’re my girl first.”

She smiles, a bright, open smile that has me grinning, too. “Then let’s go check on them together.”

So we do that, my arm around her, her arm around my hips—after I get rid of the condom and stuff my hard dick back into my sweats—and go up the stairs to see what the brats are up to.

Cold shower, Matt. Cold shower. The only way to get through the rest of the day with the sounds Octavia made and the memory of her pussy around my dick playing on a loop in my brain. Walking around with a boner like this will be a challenge.

But oh so fucking worth it.

The door to the kids’ bedroom is open. It’s so quiet.

So damn quiet my hackles rise, and my muscles tense. “Mary! Cole!” Letting go of Octavia, I stride right into their room and turn in a circle. Empty. “Where are they?”

Octavia peeks inside. “Maybe they’re hiding.”

Awesome. Now is not a good time for hide and seek, and the bad feeling makes me feel sick. “Cole! Mary! Come out now, Octavia is here.”

No sound.

No reply.

“I’ll check around,” she says, moving away from the door, the tension in her voice telling me I’m not the only one worried. “Can’t see them in your room. Or the bathroom.”

Fuck. I follow her, opening my closet, checking under the bed, behind the door. Jog into the bathroom, look around, in case she missed two kids hiding behind the shower curtain.

“Is there an attic?” she asks.

I shake my head. “This is it.”

“Okay. Why don’t you check downstairs while I look some more? I bet they’re playing some new game.”

But neither of us believes that. I fly down the stairs without another word and run through the rooms, calling out their names, checking any hiding place I can think of.

Fucking hell. My kids. They’re not in the house.

Since when?

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