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 Iwouldenjoy 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?
