Page 4 of His Promise

I try to concentrate on my studies, but I sense her getting up from the couch and moving around behind me. At her soft intake of breath, I whirl around to glare at her. She’s standing at my kitchen counter and has my summer internship welcome packet in her hands.

“This is really impressive,” she says, eyes wide. “I’d love to work for them some day. I’m a business major, too.”

I feel a surge of pride, but why should I care what she thinks of me? It shouldn’t matter at all to me that we probably have a lot in common, based on how interested she looks in my books. I turn back. Ignoring her seems the best option, though she makes it nearly impossible. Her sweet apple scent is taking over my room and adding to my frustration. She smells freaking delicious.

“Can I borrow one of your books?” she asks. “I’m not really sleepy.”

I turn around again with a sigh. She can’t be ignored. “You already have,” I say, gesturing to the book she left on the couch and watching as a blush crosses her cheeks.

“I meant one of those,” she says, pointing to a collection of leather-bound classics on a top shelf. They’re my favorite books, a gift from my grandfather before he’d passed away. I’m honestly surprised she’d have any interest in them.

“Go ahead,” I say, hoping it will keep her quiet longer than the textbook she’d grabbed earlier seemed to. I watch as she moves closer to the bookshelf and stretches onto her toes to reach one of the books. I should just get it for her, but I’m enjoying the view as her clothes strain against her lush curves and the hem of her shirt lifts to reveal a couple inches of smooth, creamy skin. That irritates the hell out of me, and I kick the step stool closer to her with a grunt.

She makes a face that nearly cracks me up as she climbs on the stool, but as she reaches again, it wobbles, and I notice it’s on the edge of the rug. I jump as she teeters backwards with a yelp, grabbing onto the shelf to try to keep herself from falling. The whole bookshelf starts to come away from the wall on top of her. I grab her around the waist and pull her off the stool, twisting so that the avalanche of heavy books rains down on me instead of her.

“Oh my God,” she says, breathless and grateful as she both apologizes and thanks me profusely. “I’ll clean all these up. Don’t worry. Go back to studying. I’m so sorry.”

This time, I’m irritated with myself for not just getting the damn book for her and drop to my knees beside her to help gather up the bits of broken shelf.

She scoots closer to me, her eyes widening as she reaches for my shirt collar. The feel of her fingertips on my neck as she pushes it away almost makes me lose every last ounce of resolve. I recoil like she’s a trap about to spring, my fingers closing over hers. We lock eyes, and I want to tell her to get out, to run before I break all my rules.

“You’re hurt,” she says softly, slipping out of my grasp to touch my neck again. She hops up. “Do you have Band-Aids?”

I stand and go to the bathroom, seeing in the mirror that one of the hard corners must have nicked me. “It’s fine.”

But she’s already rummaging in the bathroom cupboard, coming out with a box of Band-Aids and a tube of antibiotic cream. “Oh, stand still,” she says, reaching as I dodge her. “There could be splinters from the broken shelf in the cut. Let me fix you up.”

Her tone is bossy, and I like it too much to resist. She stands on her tiptoes to reach my cut, finally asking me to sit down in a flustered voice. I walk out to the couch and sit, unable to ignore her anymore, and instantly regret it. She leans over to inspect my cut, giving me a closeup view of her perfect tits, the outline of her lacy bra showing slightly through her t-shirt.

“I, uh, need to undo a button,” she says, fumbling with my shirt.

God, now she’s undressing me? What have I gotten myself into?

Her soft touch as she dabs on the medicine and her gentle breaths on my neck drive me to want to touch her in return. Her curls tumble across her face, and she shoves the shiny strands away, making me want to reach for her hair and hold it back for her. And keep pulling until her chin tips back enough that I can kiss her. Shit, I really don’t need this.

Just as I’m about to shove away, her hands slide to my shoulders, and she smiles down at me. “All done. I don’t have a treat for you for being good, though.”

I can think of a dozen things she can give me as a treat. And even more things I want to give to her. But she’s a freshman, and I have work I need to focus on.

All I can see is her mouth, though, and those tits in my face. With a growl, I stand up so fast, I nearly knock her into the mess on the ground.

“I can’t study like this,” I snarl, stomping toward the door before I wrap my fingers around her waist and yank her onto my lap. “Get this cleaned up by the time I get back.”

I slam out of the apartment, climb into my car, and head back to campus, pissed at myself for losing control and being an ass to Maci for no real reason. To top it off, I stormed out without grabbing the books I need, so now I can’t even study.

Chapter 3

Maci

I’m so stunned when Gage goes crashing out of his own apartment that all I can do is stare at the door. Not just at his complete lack of gratitude over my first aid, I’m a little stunned by how he affects me. Being so close to him while I bandaged the cut he got due to me being so clumsy was disconcerting. Strange. I’ve never felt so flustered being close to a man before. I mean, it’s not like there’ve been a lot of men in my life to be distracted by. Gage is the only one I’ve ever been that close to without being related to them. I guess I just didn’t expect to be that unnerved, especially because he’s been kind of a jerk so far.

Of course, it could be because he’s so handsome. Pretty people can have that effect on anyone, I guess. But Gage might be too distracting, since I can still feel his strong, rippling shoulder muscles under my palms. And he smelled intoxicating, actually making me feel a little legless with his soapy clean aftershave. Maybe he could be the one after all?

No. I can’t get involved with him. That hasbad ideawritten all over it; I can’t afford to lose valuable study time in the evenings by chasing after a man. More importantly, he’s doing me a solid by letting me stay with him until I get my dorm room issues figured out. Him being a jerk just makes it easier to walk away from him next week, if I’m being honest.

Even after I put all the books in a stack, I’m still too worked up to sleep. I’m worried the credit card my parents gave me won’t work, so I gather up all my cash, which isn’t much, and walk down the street to a little corner store we’d passed in the car earlier.

After taking longer than necessary to choose some snacks and a drink, I eventually drag myself back to Gage’s apartment, not sure if I want him to be there or not. The flash of disappointment when he’s not is quickly replaced with relief that I can shower in peace.

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