Page 45 of Corrupt Me

I was done waiting.

The elevator opened, and I stepped out in time to see Tristan’s bedroom door close. I dashed to my room and dropped my stuff on the bed before hurrying back to the door. Just barely cracking it, I pressed my ear against the wood, listening for Tristan to come out again. The shared bathroom was between his room and Sam’s, leaving me the farthest away from him.

My phone buzzed on the counter, and I jumped, but I ignored it, a focused scowl on my lips. I didn’t have to look at my phone to know who texted me...Sam checking on me. My silence would tell her what she wanted to know.

I hadn’t listened.

Squeak.

The sound was followed by the door clicking closed, and my heart rate sped up, adrenaline kicking in my blood.

Here we go.

I just had to wait for him to enter the bathroom, and then I could?—

A second door clicked closed.

And that was my green light to move my ass.

Creeping into the hall, I tiptoed toward the bathroom. I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to tiptoe, but what I was about to do seemed to call for some detective skills, which I didn’t have. A girl could pretend for the aesthetic.

I should have thrown on my spy gear. Again, something I didn’t possess but felt like I should.

Stopping near the bathroom, I listened for running water and the shower to turn on. I wanted to ensure I had a block of time to find the pictures and delete them. The old pipes started to groan, followed by the muffled sound of water hissing seconds later. I didn’t walk to Tristan’s room. I ran.

Up until this point, I hadn’t thought about the possibility he locked his bedroom, not until my hand reached for the knob. I held my breath as I turned it, expecting the damn thing to remain unmovable. As the handle twisted under my fingers, a whoosh of air left me. It was like he was asking me to break in.

I let myself inside, quickly shutting the door. The woodsy sage scent hit me first. Tristan’s cologne. The entire space smelled like him, and my senses decided they liked it a little too much, my heart tumbling.

Stay on task,I scolded as I took a deep breath.

My eyes swept the room from wall to wall. It reminded me so much of his room at home. Not the décor but the scattered mess that was Tristan. If I’d gone through every room in Thorn Hall, I would have easily been able to pick this one out as his.

Preston was the neat freak of the family.

Tristan hadn’t inherited that particular trait.

Somehow, I preferred Tristan’s mess to Preston’s order.

Shaking my head, I headed for the nightstand, spotting his phone charging on a wireless port. I plucked up the device and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at it. Obviously, I couldn’t use the face ID to unlock the phone, but I didn’t need his face. Not when I knew his passcode.

Too many times I’d seen him punch in the four-digit passcode. At the dinner table over his shoulder. By the pool when a string of girls messaged him all summer. Lounging in the movie room at their house, his phone lighting up the dark room. And unless he’d recently changed it, this shouldn’t be an obstacle. Yet as I hit the digits 6-9-6-9, I held my breath.

Creative. Just like a guy to use a stupid, sexist code.

A ribbon of nerves and excitement twirled within me as the home screen popped up.

Sucker.

I went straight for his photos app.

Skimming through the images, I searched for the ones of me. It didn’t long. Tristan wasn’t someone who took a lot of pictures. I clicked on one, full screening a very sensual pose. Tristan might not like being in photos, but he knew how to capture a side of me I hadn’t thought I possessed.

I didn’t have time to waste admiring them despite how good we looked together. They were so damn different than any of the photos I’d taken with Preston.

Why did I look more relaxed around Tristan? Happier?

It didn’t matter.

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