Page 31 of In the Net
“Hello?” I call out into the empty lobby. “Anyone here?”
The next thirty seconds of silence answers that question for me.
“Damn it,” I grumble. It’s not like I’m about to go kick Harper’s door down.
But …
Feeling crunched between my impulse to check on Harper and the rapidly shrinking window I have to get to the Louvre on time, a crazy idea pops into my head.
I’m out of the hotel and hurrying to the side of the building that Harper’s window is on before I can second-guess it.
Our rooms are on the second floor, and there’s a railing that wouldn’t be difficult for me to climb. The hotel windows are tall French-style windows that swing open, and there’s no screen. If she hasn’t locked them, I’ll be able to get in.
It feels like overkill. But at the same time, I can’t ignore the feeling of worry that’s buzzing through me, that has my stomach feeling tight and hard in a way I can’t explain.
There’s no reason that not seeing someone I’m actively trying to avoid for a day and a half should have me feeling this level of concern, but it does. And that weird groaning sound I heard when I put my ear up to the door didn’t help.
If I climb into Harper’s room and find it empty, I’ll at least be able to put that second concern out of my mind. It’ll be easier to tell myself that our paths simply haven’t crossed and she’s out doing something. I’ll be able to jog to the Louvre and make it in time to enjoy it without this irrational worry encumbering me.
I look around to make sure no one’s watching before grabbing hold of the railing and scaling the wall. I find Harper’s window already opened a crack, and all I need to do is push it inward to be able to hop into her room.
A weird feeling laces through me when my shoes land on her floor.
I mean, yeah, there’s the fact that I’m basically acting like a burglar that has me a little off kilter. But there’s another sensation that pulses through me like a strong current, knowing that when I lift my head in less than a second, my eyes are going to land on the bed she’s been sleeping in.
When I do lift my head, I find that it’s the bed she’s still sleeping in.
She’s turned on her stomach, her auburn hair bright against the crisp white of the bedding. Her limbs are sprawled out, the duvet and pillows disordered around her.
Instantly, a surge of adrenaline rockets through me, a sharp throb panging at the base of my cock as my pants suddenly feel two sizes too tight.
Once I recover enough of my senses to shove those reactions deep down and lock them up, I feel some relief. She’s alright, and I was worried about nothing, just like I should have realized I was.
Except …
She slept through all that banging I did on her door?
At … one in the afternoon?
That relief flies away, replaced with even more concern.
It’s not like Harper to nap in the middle of the day. Especially not when she’s in the city I know she’s always dreamed of visiting, when the weather is just begging you to get outside and walk around.
Shit, I was wishing I’d gotten lucky enough to schedule my Louvre visit for a day with worse weather when I went outside for breakfast this morning.
“Harper?” I whisper cautiously. I don’t know why I’m being cautious, though, because no matter how I wake her up, when she turns in her bed and sees me standing in her hotel room, I know she’s going to shriek and throw something at me. I can only hope it’s a pillow instead of something harder or sharper.
She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even stir. She still doesn’t, even when I call her name louder and take a step closer to her bed.
When I get closer, I notice that her usually pale skin looks wan and sickly. When I glimpse her face, I see that she looks utterly worn out and exhausted, even when sleeping deeply enough not to hear me.
Isshe sleeping?
Shit. Panic washes through me, and all worries about whatever Harper’s going to hit me with or throw at me go flyingout the window. I kneel next to her bed, nudging her shoulder gently but firmly.
“Harper, wake up,” I say urgently, struggling not to raise my voice.
When she stirs, I have to shake my head at myself over how much relief I feel. Of course she was just sleeping deeply.
