Chapter 11
eleven
Rue returned to their room just as he ended the call with Davey and Rowan.
“You’re brooding again,” she announced, leaning against the door with arms crossed.
Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and despite the harsh fluorescent lighting that made everyone else look sickly, she somehow managed to glow.
“I could practically hear the gears grinding in your head all through dinner.”
Elliot set his boot aside. “I’m not brooding. I’m thinking.”
“Potato, po-tah-to.” She pushed off from the door and dropped onto the bunk beside him, the thin mattress dipping under their combined weight. “Care to share with the class what has you looking like someone stole your favorite pen?”
He hesitated, weighing how much to tell her about his conversation with Davey and Rowan. “I briefly managed to contact WSW. Rowan confirmed our suspicions about Irina.”
She exhaled a long, slow breath. “Oh. Well, shit. That’s not good.”
“Understatement of the century goes to Rue Bristow,” he muttered.
She laughed. “Careful, your sarcasm is showing.”
“Yeah, it comes out when I’m trapped in a metal box at the bottom of the world, surrounded by people who might want to kill us.”
“For the record, I like sarcastic Elliot.” She tugged off her boots, tossing them carelessly beside his neatly placed pair.
“Did you see how Moretti practically had a stroke when Tyler asked about Lab B at dinner? And don’t get me started on the cameras everywhere.
It’s like Big Brother: Antarctica Edition. ”
Despite everything, Elliot felt his mouth twitch. “That’s a reality show I’d skip.”
“Liar. You’d watch every episode.” She bumped his shoulder playfully. “Admit it, Wilde. You’re as curious as I am about what’s behind that door. Wanna break in tonight?”
He was curious, but not for the same reasons. Rue’s curiosity was driven by her natural thirst for adventure; his was rooted in the growing certainty that whatever lurked in Lab B was dangerous enough to warrant Davey’s worry. And Davey didn’t worry lightly.
“We shouldn’t go looking for trouble, Trouble,” he said. He had a feeling it was going to find them soon enough, whether or not they went looking.
Rue snorted. “Says the man who spent all evening casing the joint like he was planning a heist.” She stood and stretched, her thermal top riding up to reveal a sliver of skin above her waistband. “Well, I’m beat. This adventuring business is exhausting.”
Elliot tried not to stare at that strip of exposed skin, but his eyes betrayed him. By the time he dragged his gaze back up, she was watching him with that knowing half-smile that always made his pulse kick up a notch.
“Sharing a room with you is going to be interesting,” she mused, reaching for the hem of her top.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice suddenly rough.
“Changing for bed, obviously.” Her smile widened. “Don’t worry, I’ve got layers on. Though if you’re feeling modest, I can turn around.”
Without waiting for his response, she pulled her thermal top over her head, revealing a snug tank top underneath. The casual disrobing shouldn’t have affected him—they were both adults, both professionals—but his mouth went dry all the same.
To distract himself, he stood and moved to the small locker where he’d stashed his gear, putting his back to her. He heard the rustle of clothing, the soft thud of her jeans hitting the floor, and forced himself not to turn around.
“You can look now, Boy Scout,” she teased. “I’m decent. Well, clothed, anyway. Decency is debatable.”
Elliot turned to find her in sleep shorts and the same tank top, her long legs bare in the cold room. Goosebumps dotted her skin, but she didn’t seem bothered by the chill.
“Your turn,” she said, sitting cross-legged on the lower bunk. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just enjoy the show.”
“There won’t be a show,” he muttered, grabbing his own sleep clothes and changing with efficient movements, keeping his back to her as he swapped his Henley for a plain t-shirt.
“Spoilsport.” She sighed dramatically. “And here I was hoping for a striptease.”
“In your dreams, Bristow.”
“Oh, definitely in my dreams.”
Heat raced down his spine. He turned to find her watching him, her golden-brown eyes dark in the room’s dim light. The playfulness remained, but beneath it lurked something more genuine, more vulnerable.
“We should get some sleep,” he said, the words coming out huskier than he’d intended. “Long day tomorrow.”
“Top or bottom?” she asked, and when his brows shot up, she laughed. “The bunks, Elliot. Though your mind going straight to the gutter is fascinating.”
“Thought you already claimed the top,” he said, ignoring the jab.
“Hmm, yes.” She dragged a nail down his chest. “I do like being on top.”
A sudden, visceral image of her straddling him, riding him flashed through his mind with such clarity that he had to turn away, busying himself with arranging his clothes in the locker.
Rue’s laughter was wicked as she pulled herself up onto the top bunk. He didn’t turn back around until he was positive she was inside her sleeping bag. And even then, he didn’t look at her as he hit the lights and made his way to his bunk.
“You know what I like about you, El?” In the dark, her voice had lost its teasing edge, replaced by something softer, more sincere.
He slid into his sleeping bag. “My sparkling personality and winning smile?”
“Ha. Sarcastic Elliot’s back.” Her mattress creaked, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could just make out her face peeking over the side of the bed. “But mostly... you see me. Not just the adventure junkie or the wild child or Rowan’s irresponsible little sister. You actually see me.”
The simple honesty in her voice caught him off guard.
“Of course I see you,” he said quietly.
There was a beat of silence, then the mattress creaked again. Before he realized what she was doing, she’d swung down from the top bunk. “Scoot over.”
“Rue,” he said, her name half-warning, half-question.
She reached out and touched his face, her fingers light against his jaw. The contact shouldn’t have surprised him—Rue had always been tactile—but the gentleness of it made his breath catch.
“Stop thinking for five seconds, Wilde,” she murmured, and then she was kissing him.
Her lips were soft and warm against his, tentative at first, then more certain when he didn’t pull away. Instead, his hands found her waist, steadying her or himself, he wasn’t sure which. The kiss deepened, her fingers sliding into his hair, drawing him closer.
Heat coursed through him, desire coiling tight in his belly. His hands tightened on her waist as she pressed closer, her body warm and pliant against his.
It would be so easy to let this happen. To lose himself in the heat of her mouth, the feel of her skin under his palms. To forget about Lab B and Praetorian and whatever danger waited for them beyond this room.
But beneath the desire burning through his veins was something else—something deeper and more frightening. This wasn’t just lust. This wasn’t just physical attraction. This was Rue, who trusted him to see her, who challenged him at every turn, who made him feel more alive than he had in years.
He pulled back, his breathing uneven. “We shouldn’t.”
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 to become 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.