I realize I’ve stopped dancing and wrap my arms behind his neck, but I keep enough distance between us that I can look up into his face. Carter even admitting that he has issues feels immense.

“Would it be so bad?” he asks, settling his hands on my hips.

“Would what be so bad?”

He squeezes my hip. “If things were different between us? If they changed? If maybe this all wasn’t one big lie or another way for me to cope, but the beginning of something real?”

“I . . . I don’t understand.” I bite my lip. “You just left the other bar with another woman. And now you’re asking me . . . ?”

“The woman was Myla. She was drunk.” He sighs heavily. “I screwed up there. I thought we were friends. I didn’t realize she’d started imagining we’d become more.”

“But you two are more. You have been more. You can feed yourself whatever lies you want, but if you’re sleeping together, you’re not just friends. And if you’re still sleeping with her, I can’t . . .” I shake my head. “I can’t be one of several. I don’t work like that.”

“I didn’t go home with her. I haven’t slept with anyone since before the auction.”

I laugh, but it’s more hysterical than joyful. “That’s less than a week, Carter. Am I supposed to be proud?”

“No, of course not. I just . . .” He scans my face, searching for something, and I realize that maybe I’m as closed off as he is. “I didn’t think I wanted more with anyone at all, Teagan. The idea of letting someone in when I’m as fucked up as I’ve been? It scared me to death.” He swallows. “With you, it’s a different kind of scary. It’s not the scary of nightmares. It’s the scary of holding on to something precious and feeling responsible for what happens to it.”

My breath catches, because I know exactly what he means. The feeling he describes is the exact one I had when he pulled me into his arms in the lake more than a year ago and I pushed him away. It was like having someone place a rare gem in my hands and choosing to put it back in the safe deposit box—protecting it rather than enjoying it.

“You are precious,” he says, “and a chance with you is something I want enough to be brave. So I’m asking you if it would be so bad if things did change between us.”

My heart races, and I struggle to keep my footing as I waver between wanting to run from the edge of this cliff and wanting to leap off it. “The idea scares me,” I admit. I let myself step closer and lean my head on his chest.

He strokes his hand up my side. “Because of my job?”

“Not just that. I like you,” I say softly.

“But . . . ?”

I flick my eyes up to meet his, but there’s no judgment on his face, no hurt or caution. Instead, his eyes are full of open curiosity, caring, and maybe a little sympathy. “But I think that if I let down my guard, it would be a fast fall from lust to love. I already know it would be so easy to fall for you.”