Not when I wasn’t staying beyond September.
Not when she didn’t stay anywhere long.
But in this moment, with her tucked beneath my chin like some missing piece I didn’t know I’d needed?
In this moment, I didn’t care about any of that.
Her eyes fluttered after another minute, lashes brushing my chest. She shifted slightly, burrowing even closer before she froze, realizing where she was.
Who she was on top of.
Her head tilted up slowly, eyes blinking into mine.
“Morning,” I whispered.
Her cheeks flushed instantly. “Oh God.”
I laughed quietly. “Not quite.”
She groaned and covered her face with her hand. “We have to get up.”
“Do we?”
“Yes,” she muttered into her palm. “Butterfields. Breakfast. Wilderness professionalism.”
“Right,” I murmured, though the idea of not moving was dangerously appealing.
We disentangled awkwardly, arms brushing, legs sliding in ways that sent rushed memories of last night flickering through my mind. She avoided my eyes as she sat up, pushing her hair back and trying to pretend she wasn’t flustered.
I wasn’t pretending anything.
My heart knew exactly why it was beating too fast.
She searched for clothes, pulled them on aerodynamically inside the sleeping bag, unzipped the sleeping bag, and scrambled out as if she needed cold air to think.
“Okay,” she said, kneeling beside her boots. “Breakfast. Coffee. Normal thoughts. No more touching.”
I raised a brow. “We’re doing a debrief?”
“No,” she said immediately. “No debrief. We are absolutely not debriefing. Last night was—”
She stopped herself.
Incredible?
My pulse hitched. I waited.
She wouldn’t look at me. “It was… special. And… um… surprising. And also—”
She waved her hand vaguely.
“One time.” Sienna smiled.
Something cold and sharp cut through my warmth.
I sat up slowly. “One time?”
She quickly braided her hair, busying her hands.
