Page 142 of Sin

“Sorry. I couldn’t sleep, so I took a walk,” I lied.

One of his brows hiked high on his forehead. “Thought you’d do a little drive by burgling then?”

“How do you know I stole anything?”

Rolling his eyes, he gave a look that said, “Really?”

Shifting on my feet, I asked, I strained to listen to the noises coming from the direction I’d run from. “How did you find me?”

“I followed you,” he said, like it should have been obvious. “Woke up and saw you sneaking off with your suit and had to see what you were up to.”

I paused.

“And did you?” I asked, because that was important.

He stared at me, pursing his lips. “No. I decided to wait for you out here.”

I sighed in relief. Good. Good, then he didn’t know.

My back was suddenly slammed against the fence, pulling a yelp from my lips. My mouth parted in surprise.

London’s dark expression shifted from me, to the house I’d come from, then back to me again. “Sin, you have exactly ten seconds to tell me what you did in that house, and if the answer’s not stealing…”

“You’ll what?” Then I grinned, realizing what he’d thought I was hinting at earlier. “Now, London Whitmore, are you worried I slept with someone?”

He cut an angry gaze to me, and in a blink, his mouth was on mine. I opened instantly, loving the heat and taste of his kiss. My arms started for his belt, loving his jealousy, but he stopped me, and took a step back.

“Sin, don’t play with me,” he cautioned, and I rolled my eyes.

“I didn’t sleep with anyone, London. I’d never do that to you.” A cheesy smile filled my face and made my mask tighten. “You’re it for me, remember?”

“Good,” he said, handing me a small envelope.

I blinked at him as I took it. When he just waited, I sighed and tore into it.

Inside was a handmade card. On the front, London had drawn a picture of me and him, our stick figures standing in front of a box. His stick figure and my stick figure each held a yellow circle and were smiling.

Flipping the card open, I found four lines, scribbled for me.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I like your face

Can I marry you?

I stared down at the words, my heart starting to pick up its pace. “London, what is…”

My words came to a halt when I spotted London on one knee, a gold ring in his open palm.

I laughed, and London scowled at me. “Hey, I know I’m not as poetic as you, but I really tried—”

“No!” I tried to calm myself, wiping tears from the corners of my eyes. “It’s not that.” Holding his stare, I pressed a button on my weapons belt, revealing the small box containing the item I’d just went through the trouble to steal tonight.

“Do you know whose house that was?” I asked, handing him the box.

“No,” he said, confused and maybe even a little hurt that I seemed to be brushing off his proposal right now.

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