When she opened the door, Nia stood there.
The hallway light haloed her, gold against the storm-gray behind. She wore an oversized cream sweater and leggings, hairloose and slightly mussed, eyes shadowed from lack of sleep. She looked so unlike the polished surgeon from the bar, but also so mind blowingly beautiful, that for a moment, Soren couldn’t find words.
“Nia,” she said finally, voice rough from surprise.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Nia said, a little too fast. Her fingers twisted the hem of her sweater, betraying nerves. “The… radiator’s knocking again.”
Soren’s mouth tugged into a grin she couldn’t stop. “Pretty sure it’s not.”
Nia’s sigh was half frustration, half surrender. “Fine. It’s not.” She hesitated, voice dropping. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”
Something in Soren’s chest tightened. She stepped back, holding the door wider. “Then don’t be.”
Nia crossed the threshold, careful, deliberate, like she was walking into dangerous territory and knew it. The scent of cold air and her perfume followed her inside. Soren closed the door gently behind her, the soft click sealing the world out.
The room was still warm from the shower, air thick with steam and cedar. Nia’s gaze flicked to the damp towel knotted around Soren’s hips, then back up and over Soren’s exposed breasts, her throat working as she swallowed.
“You cleaned up,” she said, voice steady but eyes giving her away.
“Finished for the night,” Soren murmured. “Wasn’t expecting company.”
“I wasn’t planning to come.”
“Glad you did.”
That earned her a faint laugh—quiet, self-conscious. “You always say the right thing.”
“I doubt that,” Soren said, moving a little closer. “You just look like someone who hasn’t heard something honest in a while.”
Nia’s eyes flicked up, green and bright even in the dim light. “And what would that be?”
“That I haven’t stopped thinking about you since last night.”
The air between them shifted. The wind outside rattled the windows, but inside the silence felt hot and alive.
Nia shook her head, barely. “This is a mistake.”
“Maybe,” Soren said, voice low. “Doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
When she took another step forward, Nia didn’t retreat. Her breath hitched. Her pulse fluttered visibly at her throat.
Soren lifted a hand, brushed her thumb along Nia’s jaw, feeling the tremor that ran through her. “You came here for something,” she said softly. “Just tell me what it is.”
Nia’s eyes closed for a heartbeat, then opened again—brighter, braver. “You.”
The word was barely sound.
Soren’s control cracked like ice underfoot. She leaned in, close enough that her breath mingled with Nia’s, close enough to taste the faint sweetness of her exhale. “Say it again.”
Nia’s lips parted. “You.”
The kettle on the counter clicked as it cooled, the only sound in the room besides the rush of their breathing. Soren’s hand slid to Nia’s hip, fingers brushing the edge of soft fabric.
Nia shivered, stepping closer until there was no space left to hide in.
Whatever careful restraint either of them had left broke.
Soren kissed her—slow at first, then deep, fierce, and certain. Nia’s hands found her shoulders, pulling her closer, and the towel at Soren’s hips loosened under their movements. The storm outside howled, but neither of them heard it.
