Exposed on Ice

10

Chapter 10 – Sienna Cross

I wake up to silence.

Not the peaceful kind.

The too quiet kind.

My eyes snap open instantly, my body going from zero to alert in half a second.

I turn my head.

Oliver is still asleep beside me, tiny chest rising and falling steadily.

Okay.

Good.

Crisis one avoided.

I exhale slowly, pressing a hand to my chest.

“Relax,” I whisper. “You’re fine.”

Everything’s fine.

Except—

This isn’t my room.

Right.

That.

Memory floods back all at once.

Car breaking down.

Ronan.

His apartment.

The kitchen.

That moment—

“Yeah, no,” I mutter, pushing myself upright quickly. “We’re not thinking about that right now.”

Because if I start thinking about that?

I’m not getting out of this bed.

Ever.

I carefully slide out from under the blanket, making sure not to wake Oliver, and stretch slightly, rolling my shoulders.

God, I feel like I slept and didn’t sleep at the same time.

Which is… impressive.

I glance down at myself.

Same clothes.

Same chaos.

Perfect.

I run a hand through my hair, wincing slightly.

“Cute,” I whisper dryly.

Definitely how I wanted to be seen first thing in the morning.

By him.

Fantastic.

I move toward the door quietly, opening it just enough to peek out.

The apartment is quiet.

Too quiet.

No movement.

No sound.

Did he leave?

For a second, something weird twists in my chest.

Then—

No.

Don’t be ridiculous.

Of course he didn’t just disappear.

I step out into the hallway, closing the door softly behind me.

The living room comes into view—

And there he is.

Ronan.

Asleep on the couch.

One arm thrown over his head, the other resting on his stomach, blanket barely covering him like he gave up halfway through using it.

And for a second—

I just… stop.

Because he looks different like this.

Not sharp.

Not sarcastic.

Not teasing.

Just… quiet.

Human.

And annoyingly—

Attractive.

Even like this.

Even with his hair a mess and his t-shirt slightly twisted.

“Unfair,” I whisper under my breath.

Because really.

How is that fair?

I step closer without meaning to.

Just a little.

Enough to see the way his breathing is steady, slow.

Deep.

He looks… tired.

Like he didn’t sleep much either.

A small flicker of something hits my chest.

Guilt?

No.

Something else.

Something softer.

I glance down at the blanket barely covering him.

Then back at his face.

Then—

Before I can overthink it—

I reach down and pull the blanket up properly over him.

Careful.

Quiet.

So I don’t wake him.

Because—

I don’t know.

It feels like the right thing to do.

The second I straighten—

His hand moves.

Fast.

Before I can react, his fingers wrap loosely around my wrist.

Not tight.

Not forceful.

Just—

There.

My breath catches.

His eyes open slowly, still heavy with sleep.

Confused for half a second.

Then focused.

On me.

“Oh,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Morning.”

I freeze.

“Morning,” I whisper back.

We don’t move.

His hand is still around my wrist.

Warm.

Solid.

Real.

And neither of us seems in a hurry to change that.

“You were hovering,” he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

I blink. “I was not hovering.”

“You were absolutely hovering.”

“I was fixing your blanket.”

“Sure you were.”

I narrow my eyes slightly. “Do you want me to take it back?”

His grip tightens just a fraction.

“No.”

That… does something.

Something I don’t like.

Or maybe I do.

Which is worse.

“You didn’t sleep,” I say, trying to focus on literally anything else.

“Neither did you.”

“Fair.”

Silence stretches.

Still no movement.

Still too close.

Still—

Dangerous.

“You can let go now,” I say softly.

He looks down at where his hand is still around my wrist.

Like he forgot.

Or maybe he didn’t.

“Right,” he murmurs.

But he doesn’t let go immediately.

Of course he doesn’t.

Because apparently we’re both making terrible decisions this morning.

Then—

Slowly—

He releases me.

His fingers brushing against my skin as they pull away.

And yeah.

That lingers.

Way longer than it should.

I step back quickly, clearing my throat.

“I should check on Oliver.”

“Yeah,” he says, pushing himself up slightly. “Yeah, go.”

I turn and walk back toward the bedroom a little too fast, my heart beating harder than it has any right to.

Get it together.

Seriously.

I step inside, closing the door behind me, and lean back against it for a second.

“Okay,” I whisper. “Okay.”

This is fine.

Everything is fine.

Except—

It’s not.

Because this thing between us?

Whatever it is?

It’s not going away.

If anything—

It’s getting stronger.

And that’s exactly what I was trying to avoid.

I push off the door and move to the bed, checking on Oliver.

Still asleep.

Still perfect.

Still completely unaware that his mother is currently losing her mind over a man she barely knows.

Lucky him.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through my hair.

“This is temporary,” I remind myself quietly.

Temporary.

Simple.

No strings.

No complications.

Except—

My chest tightens slightly.

Because for the first time since last night…

That doesn’t feel entirely true anymore.

And that?

That’s a problem.