Page 28 of Tempting-
Wait.
That's Brendon's sketchbook.
It's right there.
I've never seen it by itself.
In his hands? Yeah.
On his lap? Absolutely.
Nestled under his arm? Of course.
It never leaves his sight.
And he snaps it fast whenever I get close.
This is it.
All the secrets to what's in that beautiful head of his.
His secrets.
None of my business.
I pick it up. Run my fingers over the worn leather cover. Undo the snap holding the pages together.
This is his.
It's private.
Yes, I want to know why his smiles are so rare.
I want to know what it is he's thinking about when he's sitting on the deck alone.
When he's alone, period.
God, I want in his head so badly I'm shaking.
This is wrong. What if it was your journal?
I force myself to set the book down.
To sit on the bed.
To cross my legs. Fold my hands. Keep my gaze on the floor.
I shouldn't look.
But this is the only chance I'm going to get.
If I don't look, I'll never get inside his head.
I'll never know what he's thinking.
I'll never know if he's thinking about me.
I place the book in my lap and pry it open. The first few pages are familiar tattoo mockups—Brendon always shows off his finished work. Or maybe I check the shop's Facebook religiously. Either way.
