She stared at the ceiling, tracing the pattern of shadows cast by the morning light leaking through the curtains.What are you doing, Nia?
She’d told herself last night was a mistake. Then she’d gone to Soren’s door. And everything after that—the way Soren had looked at her like she was something to be unwrapped, not fixed; the way her hands had found every place Nia had forgotten how to feel—it had burned through every defense she had left.
Soren shifted behind her, murmuring something incoherent against her skin. The vibration of it sent a shiver through Nia’s body.
“Morning,” Soren said, voice still husky with sleep.
“Morning,” Nia managed, though her throat felt dry.
Soren’s hand slid along her side, fingertips tracing idle circles. “You thinking about running away yet?”
The question was teasing, but it landed too close to the truth. Nia swallowed. “Maybe.”
“Didn’t peg you for a coward.”
“I’m not.”
“Then stay a little longer.”
Soren’s voice was low, coaxing, and before Nia could form a reply, she felt Soren press a soft kiss to her shoulder. Then another, slower. The pull was impossible to resist.
When Soren’s strong fingers found their way inside her once again, it wasn’t frantic like before—it was quiet, almost reverent. The kind of intimacy that terrified her more than the heat of the night had.
Afterward, the shower filled with steam and silence. The water pounded against the tiles, and Nia let it wash over her, trying to clear her mind, but Soren’s presence made it impossible.
They stood close under the spray, droplets racing down Soren’s collarbone, catching in the curve of her smile. Nia watched the way she lathered her hands, the muscles shifting under her damp skin, and she thought absurdly that she could stay in this moment forever if the world outside would let her.
But the world always came back.
Soren reached out, brushing a strand of wet hair from Nia’s face. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Doc?”
Nia forced a small smile. “You wouldn’t want to know.”
“Try me.”
She turned off the water, the silence afterward louder than the storm outside. “I have a life to get back to,” she said softly. “A job. A reputation. Responsibilities.”
Soren handed her a towel, eyes steady. “I figured.”
“This—” Nia hesitated, gesturing between them. “This isn’t what I do.”
Soren’s grin was gentle. “Pretty sure that’s the point.”
Nia looked away, clutching the towel tighter. “You make everything sound simple.”
“Doesn’t mean it is,” Soren said. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be complicated either.”
Nia met her gaze then, and for a heartbeat she wanted to believe it—that they could stay here, two women in a snowstorm, nothing beyond this warmth and touch and temporary magic.
But the thought of Phoenix Ridge pressed against the edge of her mind like a bruise. The hospital. Julia. The version of herself who didn’t make impulsive choices.
She sighed, stepping out of the shower. “You think this storm will break soon?”
Soren wrapped a towel around her waist, watching her with that same calm certainty. “Not today. Maybe not tomorrow either.”
Nia nodded, half to herself.
Another day. Another night.
