Page 4 of I'm Not in Love (I Promise)

“She’s still in there. Maybe you should take a turn…You’re a little tense.” Jasper steps aside and adjusts his shirt.

“I’m not tense and I don’t want your whore. Christ, Jasper…Come on. If we’re not out of here in the next five minutes Leon’s going to go fullLeon.”

“Fuck.”

“Exactly. So get some blood flowing up north and let’s go.” I grip my gun again, just in case, and follow the same path I took to get upstairs.

“I should say goodbye,” Jasper whispers, craning his neck toward the party going on in the living room. “They might think it’s weird if I don’t.”

“Who was the one bitching about getting out of here first?” I ask, growing more irritated by the second.

“My friend upstairs may have changed the tides for me. Plus, I want to find something about our guy. I’ll just go schmooze a little, charm them, then duck out. Won’t take more than a minute.” He looks me over. “You sure you don’t want to join me? Take a break from being creepy for once?”

I lift my middle finger, glancing at the Roman numeral tattooed between my knuckles before piercing him with my biggest fuck off look.

He raises his hands in surrender, fixes his hair, and walks in the opposite direction.

A few steps and I’ll be outside, but I turn toward the dark, empty hallway instead. I know I shouldn’t. I told Leon ten minutes and time’s ticking. He’s not a patient guy. A few minutes late and there’s no telling what he’ll do. I smooth my palms against the wood grain of her door, imagining her behind my closed lids.

Just one minute. One glance. Leon won’t know a thing.

Cracking her door, I slip inside. The uncertainty of how I’ll find her only adds to my giddy anticipation. My eyes dartstraight to where she lies and I take in her still form. She’s asleep on her side, facing away from me. One hand is tucked beneath her pillow, while a single leg peeks out from under her black blanket. I trail my eyes over her curves. The dip of her waist, her plump ass. My hands tremble with each step toward her. I can’t get too close. Can’t risk her seeing me here. Not before she gets to know me.

I breathe in her scent, filling my lungs enough to sustain myself until the next time. She smells so goddamn good—I knew she would. Like vanilla and spice…reminds me of a sugar cookie. Mouthwatering.

Time is ticking so I drink her in for another moment, memorizing the portrait tattoo on her thigh and the name of the band on the tour T-shirt she’s wearing. All little details I’ll store away in my mind.

There’s so much to learn about you, Angel. Soon, there won’t be any secrets between us. I’ll know every single inch of your mind, body, and soul.

But first, what’s your name?

I step around piles of clothes on her floor, resisting touching every item, and stop at her dresser.You’re a messy one, aren’t you?Paper notes, jewelry, tubes of lip gloss, and a half-empty energy drink are only a small part of what litters the furniture. I pick up one of the papers and read the name on the top. Blake Hyland. Letting her name roll around on my tongue, I sigh. Blake, the name of my future wife.

I pull out my phone, double checking that it’s still on silent mode and take a picture of the document. It looks like medical paperwork. If she’s sick, I need to know so I can take care of her.

Despite the mess, the room seems empty. No personal touches. No photos or posters. As if it could belong to anyone. Like a blank canvas.

Are you just visiting?

If that’s the case, I’ll need to work fast. I can’t lose her.

On the corner of the dresser, I spot her perfume bottle. An ornate glass sphere filled with amber liquid. I bring it to my nose, inhaling like one would a fine wine. I commit the scent to memory along with every detail I can see in the darkness.

Leon’s counting down the seconds and I’m cutting it close. With a silent curse, I back away, grabbing a discarded pair of her panties from the floor and a necklace from the bedside table.

“Sleep tight, Blake,” I whisper. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She rolls toward me as I reach the door. With one hand on the doorknob, I freeze, holding my breath. When she doesn’t scream or jump up, I release my breath. Her eyes are still closed. Thick black lashes sweep the apples of her cheeks and smudged black eyeliner lines her upper lid.

It’s not until I’m back in the cool night air, away from the incessant chatter of strangers, that I relax my grip on my gun. My hand grazes my pocket where I finger the thin chain of Blake’s necklace and the soft silk of her panties. My chest loosens for the first time that night.

CHAPTER THREE

BLAKE

My eyes snapopen and I push errant strands of hair out of my eyes. What time is it? From the excessive noise in the other room, Mischa and her pretentious friends are still partying. Not like that’s a surprise. I’d love nothing more than to tell my brother how hisgirlfriendacts when he’s out of town working for her father. The irony is, she calls it a charity dinner. The only charity going on tonight is funding her next shopping spree.

I roll over, forcing my eyes closed. 7 AM would be here too fast and I had to be on my A-game for pharmacology. It’s already my toughest course and facing Ethan, with another one of his half-hearted apologies, only makes it worse.

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