Wiping sweat off the back of my nape, I grimaced and slumped into the pillow beneath me. We really needed to shower, but there was something thrilling about lying completely naked in the middle of the day with Roane.

He wasn’t long in returning with two glasses of water in hand. I took one from him and greedily gulped it down, having underestimated how parched I was. Wiping my lips, I asked, “Is Shadow okay?”

“He’s found a cool spot in the shadow of the kitchen. He didn’t want to be disturbed. This weather makes him sleepy.” Roane grinned, returning to the bed.

“It usually makes me sleepy.” My lips trembled with amusement. “Not today.”

“I noticed. Thank fuck for summer days.” He looked more than a little pleased with himself.

I rolled my eyes. “I couldn’t help myself. You were all sweaty and hot, the latter both literally and figuratively. It was too much for one woman to take.”

We were quiet a moment as Roane emptied his glass of water and then lay back down beside me. I shimmied toward him, and he lifted his arm, inviting me to curl against him. Resting my head on his strong chest, feeling his heart thud beneath me, I took a deep breath. He smelled of musk and citrus, sweat and sex . . . and me.

My perfume clung to his skin.

A shiver of possession rolled through me.

“We’re doing this then, Evie? We’re giving this thing between us a real go?”

I nodded, my hair rustling against his skin with the movement. Beginning a relationship with Roane was just asking for confusion and complication. I knew that. Yet I refused to panic. We had time. We still had two months to figure out if what we had was worth upending my whole life. No decisions had to be made right away. “We are. But . . . let’s not overthink it or make definitive plans. Let’s just enjoy each other and see where this leads us.”

He took an expansive breath and let it out slowly. “Okay.”

He didn’t sound so sure. “Roane?” I lifted my head to meet his gaze.

His gaze was searching. “What does that mean exactly? That no matter what happens you’re planning to leave in two months?”

“No.” I shook my head. “No, it means I don’t want to screw this up”—I gestured between us—“by panicking about what it means. There’s no point worrying about getting deep into this with each other because there’s an expiration date. Let’s not think of there being an expiration date. I leave in two months or . . . I don’t. But if I said right now, ‘Roane, I’m not leaving because of you,’ that would put all of this pressure on us. I don’t want that. I just want us to see where this goes without some clock ticking or not ticking above our heads.”