She brushed past him. “I’m going to take a shower.”
She closed the door behind her, and the softclickof the lock echoed through the dim room. A moment later, the shower turned on, its water rushing in a steady stream.
Tonio stood in the half-lit space, the hum of the highway muted behind the motel walls, and let the sound of the shower wrap around him. He shouldn’t have listened. Shouldn’t have let his mind drift.
But he did. Tonio imagined the water sliding over her—first soaking her hair, then rolling down the length of her spine. He pictured droplets gliding over the curve of her breasts, tracing the soft dip of her waist, slipping lower, over hips he wanted to grip, thighs he wanted to coax open.
A low heat coiled through him. He could almost see her tilting her head back beneath the spray, eyes closed, lips parted as steam curled around her skin. Naked. Vulnerable. Soft in all the places he wanted to taste.
He dragged a hand over his face, his jaw clenched.
Dangerous. All of it was dangerous. But the image of her—slick, warm, water running between her thighs—burned behind his eyes, and for several long, punishing minutes, he let himself suffer for wanting her that much.
The water cut off. She stepped out, steam curling around her like smoke, the thin motel towel barely clinging to her slick skin. Their eyes locked across the dim room. No words.
It was Sofia who broke the silence first. The woman from the car—all teasing provocation—was gone. In her place was a raw vulnerability he’d never seen. She clutched the towel tighter, her gaze shattering away from his as a flush of self-consciousness crept up her neck.
“Turn around,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
A beat of silence. Then, without a word, Tonio turned his back, giving her the privacy she’d asked for. He listened to the soft, frantic sounds of her rifling through her bag, the rustle of fabric. When he heard the bathroom door click shut again, he knew she was changing in there.
The spell was broken, leaving only the hum of the highway and the scent of her cheap soap in the air. Tonio exhaled, running a hand through his hair. This was going to be a long night.
When she emerged, she was swallowed by an oversized T-shirt, her damp hair dark on the shoulders. She didn’t look at him as she crossed to the bed, pulling back the comforter on what she’d clearly designated as her territory.
She slid in, her back to him, putting as much distance between them as the mattress would allow.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow, aiming for defiance but landing somewhere closer to a flustered warning.
Tonio killed the lights and stretched out on top of the covers on his side, boots off but everything else on. The bedsprings groaned in protest at his weight. They were so close he could feel the heat of her body. He listened to her breathing, waiting for it to even out into the deep rhythm of sleep. He must have drifted off, lulled by exhaustion, because the sound jolted him awake—a choked-off gasp, then a whimper, small and wounded, right beside him.
Tonio was on his elbows in an instant, every sense alert. In the sliver of light from the window, he saw that the pillow was clutched in a white-knuckled grip. “No,” she mumbled, her voice thick with terror. “Please, don’t…”
She jackknifed into a sitting position, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as she scrambled backward, directly into him. Her back pressed against his side, her entire body rigid. Her chest heaved, her wide, unseeing eyes scanning the dark for monsters only she could see.
“Sofia.”
He kept his voice low, calm. She flinched violently at the contact and the sound, scrambling away to the very edge of the bed, pulling the comforter up like a shield. Her breath hitched in ragged sobs.
“I’m fine,” she gasped, the words sharp with defensive fury. “Just a dream. Go back to sleep.”
He didn’t move. He just watched her. “You’re safe,” Tonio said, his voice gravelly with sleep. “I’m right here. The door is locked. The lot is clear. I ensured no one followed us.” He was cataloging facts, building a wall of reality for her to lean against.
She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her knees. A violent tremor ran through her. “You don’t understand. I keep having this ridiculous dream where it’s like I am my mother… and I’m running, and I’m afraid…”
“I get it more than you know.”
Tonio didn’t swing his legs over the side. He didn’t put space between them. Instead, he sat up straighter against the headboard, anchoring her with his presence.
Her breath hitched, fragile and uneven. “I hate that once I fall asleep, the dream will come again.”
“Sofia. You’re safe. Nothing gets to you while I’m breathing.”
The words landed, simple and solid. They didn’t erase the nightmare, but they built a barricade against it. She stared at him, the fight draining out of her, replaced by a raw, exhausted vulnerability. She gave a single, shaky nod.
For a long moment, they sat in the dark, the highway humming its lonely song outside the thin motel walls. Then slowly, cautiously, she slid back down onto the bed. She turned her back to him, leaving barely an inch of space between them. He could feel the faint tremor still running through her body.
He lay down as well, eyes fixed on the curve of her shoulder silhouetted in the dim light. Almost thirty minutes passed. Her breathing stayed too shallow, too alert. She wasn’t sleeping.
