Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 38307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Her throat moves. “I don’t like being predictable.”
“Then train.”
Rowan’s gaze holds mine, then her expression shifts into something playful that doesn’t quite hide what’s underneath. “Okay,” she says. “Training. Great. But what about when we’re not running drills.”
My jaw tightens.
Rowan’s tone goes a touch softer. “Sin. You can’t tell me you don’t get bored.”
“I don’t get bored.”
“Lie.”
I look at her, and she smiles like she just won something. I shouldn’t indulge that. I do anyway. “I don’t get bored on assignment.”
“What about off assignment?”
“This is assignment.”
Rowan’s smile lingers. Then she sets her mug down and scoots forward, elbows resting on her knees. She looks too earnest for what she’s about to say. That’s what gets me. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s say we’re stuck here for days. Maybe a week. We can’t go anywhere. We can’t talk to anyone except your people. We’re in forced proximity.” She pauses like she’s letting the words hang.
Forced proximity.
My mind immediately supplies an image of her in my bed again, hair loose, mouth parted, asking me to stay.
I clamp down hard.
Rowan continues, voice carefully casual. “We’re adults. We’re stressed. We’re in a weird, scary situation. People make dumb decisions when they’re stressed.”
My eyes narrow. “Where is this going?”
Her cheeks flush slightly, but she doesn’t back off. That’s Rowan. She’s scared and she still pushes. “I’m saying,” she says, “we could… make an arrangement.”
My body goes still. Every instinct locks on her like she just pulled a pin. “An arrangement?” I question.
Rowan nods, words coming faster now. “Friends with benefits. No feelings. No complications. Just… something to take the edge off while we’re stuck in this bunker cabin.”
The room goes quiet in a way that makes my skin feel too tight.
Rowan holds my gaze. Her eyes are steady, but her pulse is jumping at her throat. She’s nervous. She’s trying not to show it. She wants me.
That’s the real bomb.
I take a slow breath. My mind is already running scenarios, and every scenario ends with me forgetting why I have rules. I don’t do attachments. I don’t blur lines. I don’t touch the principal. Because when you touch the principal, you stop thinking clearly. You start reacting emotionally. And that gets people killed. I keep my voice calm. “No.”
Rowan blinks. “No?”
“No.”
Her chin lifts, pride flickering. “Okay. Wow. Rejection. I didn’t realize we were doing that today.”
“This isn’t about you.” I want to tell her how badly I want her. How I’d fuck the hell out of her right here on the living room floor.
“It feels like it is.”
“It’s not.” I step closer, stopping a safe distance away, the kind that keeps me in control. “You think fucking will take the edge off?”
Rowan’s eyes widen a fraction at the blunt word. “I mean… yes.”
“It won’t,” I say. “Not for me.”
Her brows knit. “Because you don’t enjoy it?”
My mouth almost twitches. “That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
I hold her gaze, and for a beat I consider lying. It would be easier. But she’s too smart to buy it, and I’m tired of treating her like a child. “The problem,” I say, voice low, “is that I would enjoy it.”
Rowan goes still.
I continue, because I need her to understand this isn’t a game for me. “I would think about it when I’m supposed to be watching cameras. I would hear a noise outside and instead of assessing it, part of me would be thinking about you. I would start making decisions based on what I want, not what keeps you alive.”
Rowan swallows. “So you’re saying you want me?”
I don’t answer that directly. I can’t. Not without stepping over a line I’m already standing too close to. “I’m saying it’s a risk,” I reply.
Rowan’s voice softens, almost vulnerable. “And you don’t take risks.”
“I take calculated ones.”
She leans back again, disappointment flickering across her face before she hides it. The bravado tries to rise, but it wobbles. “You’re very self-controlled,” she says, a little too sharp.
I don’t miss the sting. “It’s not control. It’s discipline.”
“Sounds lonely.”
It is.
Rowan’s gaze holds mine. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Sin. I’m asking how we’re supposed to survive the waiting. The fear. The constant tension.”
My jaw clenches. Because she’s not wrong about the tension. It’s everywhere. It’s in the silence. In the way we keep circling each other. In the fact that I spent last night watching her sleep and thinking about kissing her until my teeth hurt.
I keep my voice steady. “We survive it by staying focused.”
Rowan’s lips press together. “You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not.”
Her eyes flicker again, that sharp intelligence taking inventory. “So you’ve thought about it?” she asks softly.
I don’t move. I don’t speak. How can I?
Rowan’s breath catches, and her cheeks flush deeper.
That’s answer enough.
She looks down, then back up, and her voice is quieter. “Okay.”
I expect her to crack a joke. To deflect. To retreat behind sarcasm. She doesn’t. She simply nods once, like she’s respecting the boundary even if she hates it. And something in my chest tightens at the sight of her being brave in a new way.