Page 94 of Promise Me Not

When she’s asleep, I’m waiting for her to wake.

When she’s looking at me, I’m fucking mesmerized.

She’s more than I thought I’d ever find, and she’s not even mine.

I mean, in my mind, she is. Shehas to be.There’s just no other option, but that’s my mind, and while I like to think I have a damn good idea I know what’s going on inside hers, I can’t say that for certain. Even if she now looks at me in a way she didn’t before.

As if our minds are linked, her head turns my way, catching me staring. The soft smile she gives has my heart pounding. It’s pretty strange honestly, but it’s there, this incessant thud beneath my rib cage.

“You’re quiet today,” she murmurs, carefully climbing to her feet and walking over, her eyes trailing over my bruises, all now mostly faded into nothing. Her gaze moves back to mine. “What’s the matter?”

“The others will be here soon.”

Her lips curve higher. “Don’t sound so excited.”

“What if I said I’m not?” A small frown of confusion builds across her brow, so I add, “I don’t want you to go.”

Her smirk is playful. “Mason Johnson, are you saying you like me bossing you around?”

I push to my feet, and her head tips back to follow. “I’m saying I likeyou.”

She laughs. “I like you, too.”

My head is already shaking, my feet shuffling closer. “No, Pretty Little.” I run my knuckles along her jaw. “What if I asked you to stay the rest of the weekend? I’m moving up to my room tonight. You could stay with me in there like you’ve been staying in Cam’s room with me.”

Her cheeks pinken, and I need to get a grip, because the sight has my dick throbbing in my sweats. How can I, though, when I know where her curious little mind just went?

It’s right there, in the gloss of her gaze.

She’s thinking about how we’ve woken tangled in each other for the last several days, each morning more and more wrapped together, now that I can actually lie on my sides or flat on my back. Each of those mornings, my body knew exactly what it wanted, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. This wasn’t the standard morning wood; this wasI want the girl in my arms with every fiber of my fucking being. Because, god damn it, I do, and I’m tired of telling myself I shouldn’t.

The first day, she practically sprinted into the bathroom, locking herself inside.

The second, she blushed like crazy but didn’t run.

But the third? The third she pressed back against me, a tiny gasp she doesn’t know I heard heating me from the inside out. Even now, my blood is running warm at the mere thought of it. It was the sweetest sound, and I’mdyingto hear it again. And again. And sure, one could argue she didn’t mean to rub her assover me, but I’m thinking she did. Even if subconsciously, she still did.

I won’t get the chance to hear that gasp again tomorrow, though, not with the others due to arrive today. So yeah, I already knew before asking my question what her answer would be, and her next words are only further proof that some part of us, be it big or small or steadily growing, is connected. Weareconnected.

“Parker’s been hounding me about coming home.” She tells me what I already knew.

Still, I argue. “He’s a half mile down the road.”

“Exactly.” She grins. “I’ll only be a half a mile down the road.” She holds that grin all the way through. “I’m sure you won’t miss me too much.” She says this but with a flicker in her eyes I don’t miss.

Sadness.

Dread.

You don’t want to go, do you, baby?

“You know if there is anything you need, anything that you want, anythingat all, I’ll give it to you. You know this, right? That if I’m physically capable, it’s yours. You just”—I lick my lips, moving closer—“just ask. Or take. Or—” I break off, shaking my head.

“Mase?”

“I’m messing this up, aren’t I?” I step back, running my fingers though my hair. “I’m trying not to scare you, but I’m fucking dying here, Pretty Little.”

I wait for confusion to cross her face, but it never comes.

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