She turns then, and our eyes meet. For a heartbeat, her eyes are wide open, unguarded, reflecting every star above us. My pulse stumbles.
“You really believe that?” she breathes. “That there’s a right person?”
“I believe the right person could make love feel extraordinary,” I say, my voice roughening. “Not just a fleeting spark. Something real. Something that lasts. The kind that turns all the chaos into home rather than another reason to run.”
The silence that follows is heavy. My heart hammers so loudly I’m sure she can hear it. She stays quiet so long that I start doubting every word I just said. Then her gaze drifts to my hand resting between us. Slowly, giving me every chance to pull away, she reaches over and traces a single fingertip along the inside of my wrist.
The touch is barely there, yet it jolts through me like lightning. A shiver rolls down my spine. A small, genuine smile touches her lips, dimples flashing. Then her fingers slide higher, weaving through mine. Our palms press together, and she gives a gentle, certain squeeze.
I stare at our joined hands as my thumb begins to glide across her knuckles. Hers mirrors the motion, tracing slow circles in return.
“You know, I used to think love was just dopamine,” she says softly, still watching our joined hands. “Some clever trick the brain plays to keep the species going. But I don’t know… maybe you’re right. Maybe with the right person, it really could be extraordinary.”
I squeeze her hand in return. “Maybe.”
She lifts her eyes to mine, searching. “You’re dangerous when you’re honest, Milo Reyes.”
The sound of my full name on her lips sends a warm flip through my stomach.
“So are you, Sienna Harlow.”
That dimpled smile blooms across her face. She leans in until her warm breath brushes my cheek and jaw, every nerve in my body lighting up.
“We still have rules…” she reminds me, her voice low and husky.
Rules that already feel like they’re dissolving.
“I know,” I say, though the words come out strained.
“But maybe…” she hesitates, her gaze dropping to my mouth before flicking back to my eyes. “Maybe we could bend them. Just a little.”
My heart pounds against my ribs. “How little?”
She pulls back slowly, letting our fingers slip apart. The absence of her touch hits me like a quiet ache. She rolls onto her back, arms stretched wide, gazing up at the stars. My hand lingers where it was, still warm from her touch.
“Maybe enough to see what happens,” she whispers. She swings her legs off the lounger and stands. Moonlight traces the line of her silhouette, making it nearly impossible to look away. “I’m going to bed. Good night, Milo.”
“Goodnight, Sienna.” My voice comes out rough, wrecked.
She walks up the stairs, then pauses at the threshold, one hand resting on the sheer curtains that dance in the breeze.She glances back—eyes soft, uncertain, carrying the same quiet storm I feel inside—before slipping inside and vanishing into the shadows.
I stay there, skin still buzzing, pulse roaring in my ears, staring at the empty space where she disappeared, and release a heavy breath as I try to remember how to breathe again.
Chapter Nine
Sienna
The kitchenette smellslike heaven this morning—freshly brewed coffee, buttery scrambled eggs, and the faint, salty tang of ocean air drifting in through the half-open deck doors.
I shuffle into the living area barefoot, still rubbing sleep from my eyes, my hair twisted into a messy knot atop my head. I’m wearing the world’s least flattering oversized shirt and shorts that ride up with every step.
Milo stands at the counter, laptop pushed aside, his forearms flexing as he stirs the eggs with focused precision. A pot of coffee and fresh orange juice already sit on the table. My stomach does a slow, treacherous flip.
Who knew the man whose pants I baptized four days ago could look this good playing domestic? It’s annoyingly heart-fluttering.
Leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed, I try to play it cool even though my heart’s already doing traitorous things. It takes me thirteen seconds to shake off the daze before finally stepping forward.
“Morning, roomie,” I say with a grin, adding extra bounce to my step as I walk over. “You trying to bribe me into pretending last night never happened?”
