“Carson.”
He stepped closer, but not close enough to break any rules, damn him. Just close enough that my pulse tripped over itself.
“You’re the one making the rules,” he said gently. “I’m just making sure I understand the limitations.”
Limitations.
As if anything about him had limits.
I swallowed. “No touching. Not intentional.”
He nodded. “So you’re assuming there will be unintentional touching.”
“That’s not… That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant.”
“No, it’s not!”
“Sienna.”
The way my name rolled out of his mouth made every nerve in my spine light up.
I crossed my arms to keep from doing something reckless. “Fine. Maybe tents are small. Maybe things shift. But we will maintain professionalism.”
“Of course we will.” He crawled into the narrow space between the bags, slow and deliberate. “I’m very professional.”
I backed up until my ankles hit my sleeping pad. “You are not making this easy.”
“That’s not what you want,” he said.
The air between us tightened.
My voice broke into a whisper. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
We stared at each other in the dim golden light leaking through the nylon walls, breath shallow, hearts loud, the outside world fading into quiet wilderness.
He reached up like he might touch my cheek and stopped, inches away.
His voice dropped. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”
I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
But I didn’t kiss him either.
Not yet.
Instead, I whispered, “Rule number three… no more kisses.”
His mouth curved slowly, wickedly. “That’s the rule you’re going to break first.”
My heart somersaulted.
And God help me…
