Her eyes, when they opened, were dark with desire and confusion. “Why not? You want me. Don’t deny it,” she added when he opened his mouth to do just that. “I can tell.”
Yeah, shit. It was impossible to hide the way she affected him when she was pressed up against his body in this narrow bed.
“And I want you,” she added, her hand slipping down to caress the bulge at the front of his pants. A shutter ripped through him, and he almost gave in right then and there. “So, again, I ask, why not?”
A dozen reasons flooded his mind. The mission, the danger, their professional relationship, the fact that she was about tobecome family. But the truth was simpler and more terrifying than any of those.
“Because it matters too much to me,” he said quietly. “You matter to me, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes, followed by something he couldn’t quite read—surprise, maybe, or uncertainty. She sat up on her knees, putting space between them. “You’re friend-zoning me?”
Regret twisted in his chest. Why could he just indulge in a fun fling? Dom and Griffin did it all the time, and they seemed to enjoy it. But the moment the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was wrong. They pretended to enjoy it, but it was really more like a defense mechanism than a lifestyle choice. Dom wanted to keep everything easy and uncomplicated because he was terrified of getting hurt, and Griff kept everyone—lovers, friends, even family—at arm’s length because he thought letting someone in was a weakness.
Elliot wasn’t like Dom or Griff. He didn’t mind complications, and more than anything, he wanted to have someone to share his life with. He wanted what his parents had. What Davey and Rowan had.
“I’m not friend-zoning you,” he said roughly. “I’m saying this means something to me. You mean something to me.”
Rue tilted her head, studying him in the darkness. Her expression softened, vulnerability flickering across her face before the familiar mischievous smile returned.
“So you’re saying you want to take it slow?” She traced a finger along his collarbone. “Because I can do slow. Sometimes.”
Elliot caught her hand, stilling her touch before he lost all capacity for rational thought. “I’m saying we’re in the middle of a mission, in a station full of cameras, surrounded by people who might be working for Praetorian.”
“Fair point.” She sighed dramatically. “Though I’d argue that’s exactly why we should seize the moment. You know, carpe noctem and all that.”
“Rue.”
“Right,” she said, her voice carefully neutral, and drew her hand away. “Professional boundaries and all that.”
Fuck. He’d hurt her feelings when that was the last thing he wanted to do. “Rue?—”
“It’s fine.” She stood, retreating both physically and emotionally. “You’re right. Bad timing.”
The distance between them expanded far beyond the few feet of cramped quarters. Elliot sat there, caught between the impulse to pull her back into his arms and the certainty that crossing that line would change everything.
“Goodnight, El,” she said finally and climbed back into the top bunk.
“Goodnight.” The thin mattress creaked as he settled onto it, staring up at the bottom of her mattress. Above him, he could hear her breathing, too controlled to be natural. She wasn’t asleep any more than he was.
The kiss lingered on his lips, a phantom pressure that reminded him of what he’d walked away from. Of what he might have lost by pulling back.
Sleep didn’t come for either of them that night, the silence between their bunks filled with everything they weren’t saying.
twelve
The ice fieldstretched endlessly in every direction, a white canvas so pristine it hurt Rue’s eyes even through her polarized goggles. She breathed in the sharp, thin air and felt her pulse quicken—not from exertion, but from pure exhilaration. This was what she lived for: standing at the edge of the known world with nothing but skill and determination between her team and the hostile beauty of Antarctica.
“The site is just ahead,” she called over her shoulder after checking the GPS unit clipped to her pack. The landscape matched perfectly with the survey data—a flat section of ice field roughly fifteen miles from Thwaites Station, marked for their first core sampling expedition.
Behind her, the team moved in a loose formation across the snow, their breath forming small clouds in the frigid air.
Mia moved carefully, testing each step before committing her full weight. Smart girl. The ice could be deceptive, appearing solid but hiding deadly crevasses or unstable formations. Tyler, on the other hand, bounded across the snow like an overeager puppy, his enthusiasm outweighing his caution by a dangerousmargin. He paused every few meters to snap photos with a camera that dangled precariously from his wrist.
Noah Braddock brought up the rear, hauling the heavy equipment with the ease of a man accustomed to physical exertion. No geologist she knew of carried himself like Noah. The man definitely had military or paramilitary training.
And then there was Elliot, keeping pace at her side, his breathing steady despite the thin air. He hadn’t said more than ten words to her since last night’s interrupted kiss, but his presence was a constant weight in her awareness. She’d caught him watching her twice during breakfast, his expression unreadable.
“Temperature’s dropping,” he observed, checking the digital readout on his wrist. “Minus twenty and falling.”
