Rowan’s mouth curves faintly. “That’s what you tell yourself.”
It’s what I tell myself because it’s the only thing that keeps my discipline intact.
Rowan’s gaze drifts to my mouth again, quick and unguarded. My body responds instantly.
With a white hot heat I can’t extinguish. I’ve got an urge to lean down and take what she offered, rules be damned. I don’t move. I force my hands to stay loose at my sides, not reaching for her, not touching her, not giving in to the simple truth that I want her.
Rowan’s voice is barely above a whisper. “How are we going to survive the waiting, then?”
I look down at her, and my voice comes out rougher than I intend. “By staying alive.”
Rowan’s eyes soften. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“You’re a wall,” she says quietly. “Walls crack eventually.”
I hold her gaze, and for a second, I let her see the truth. “I don’t crack,” I say.
Rowan’s mouth curves, sad and amused at once. “That sounds exhausting.”
“It is,” I admit.
Her breath catches at the admission. She wasn’t expecting it. Then she stands, slow and careful, closing some of the distance between us. Not touching. Just near. “Okay,” she says, voice gentle now. “No arrangement.”
My pulse jumps anyway.
“But,” she adds, “you don’t get to pretend this chemistry isn’t here.”
I stare at her, jaw tight.
Rowan looks up at me, brave and scared and brilliant all at once. “I’m not asking you to break your rules,” she says. “I’m asking you to be honest about what it costs you to keep them.”
That hits harder than the proposition did. Because she sees it. She sees me fighting.
I take a slow breath. “It costs.”
Rowan nods once, eyes steady. “Okay.”
For a moment, neither of us moves. The air between us is electric, tight with everything we’re not doing. Then Rowan steps back, returning to the couch, giving me space like she’s trying to help me keep control. It’s the kindest thing she could do.
It’s also pure fucking torture.
I turn toward the window, forcing my attention outside. Tree line. Fence line. Shadows. I can handle shadows. What I can’t handle is the woman behind me who just offered herself like a lifeline and then took it back with more grace than most people manage in a lifetime.
I keep my voice level. “We start drills in ten.”
Rowan’s laugh is soft. “Yes, sir.”
I glance back at her. Her eyes are on me. They’re dangerous. Danger I can handle… but her, damn, I don’t think I’ll be able to. And I remind myself, again, like a prayer.
Protect her.
Stay sharp.
Do not touch.
EIGHT
