Her body didn’t listen.
Soren’s thumb brushed her jaw, a question in the touch. “Tell me no,” she murmured.
Nia’s lips parted. The word wouldn’t come.
The silence stretched, thick and trembling. Then she stopped thinking.
Her hands found the front of Soren’s jacket, curling in the fabric, pulling her closer. The first kiss hit hard—hot, desperate, nothing like the calm control she lived by.
Soren tasted of cider and cold air, of something new and wild. Nia’s pulse broke apart under it. The sound of wind vanished, leaving only breath, the soft scrape of teeth, the half-moan she hadn’t meant to make.
When they finally broke apart, snow clung to Soren’s golden lashes, melting in the heat between them. Nia felt desire pooling sharp and hungry between her legs.
She swallowed, her voice shaky. “Come upstairs with me.”
Soren’s answering smile was slow, certain. “You sure?”
Nia trembled in Soren’s arms. “I want… I need… please…”
Soren brushed her thumb across Nia’s lower lip, then nodded toward the entrance. “Lead the way, Doc.”
They walked through the swirling snow toward the lodge lights, the world narrowing to two sets of footprints that disappeared almost as soon as they were made.
The lodge doors closed behind them, muting the storm to a distant whisper. The lobby was quiet—fire crackling in the hearth, garland draped over the banister, a small Christmas tree glowing with amber lights.
Soren stamped the snow from her boots, then looked back at Nia with that easy, devastating smile. “Guess we made it.”
Nia’s heartbeat hadn’t steadied since the kiss. Her lips still tingled; her palms felt too warm in her pockets. Every part of her was aware of the woman beside her—the weight of her presence, the soft scrape of her breath.
She murmured something polite to the sleepy night desk clerk and took the stairs rather than waiting for the lift. Soren followed without a word. The soft thud of her boots on the steps sounded louder than it should have, echoing in Nia’s ribs.
Outside her room, Nia hesitated. The sensible voice in her head whispereddon’t. It reminded her of her reputation, her habits, her perfect discipline.
What on earth was she doing bringing a stranger back to her room? She didn’t have sex with strangers. Certainly not.
But then Soren was close enough that the air between them grew charged again—warm breath against the side of her neck, Soren’s hands on her hips as she unlocked the door.
Nia felt like she would explode even just at the feel of those strong hands holding her.
Soren was promising her something she hadn’t known she needed.
Inside, the room glowed with low lamplight. A pine wreath hung above the window. Her suitcase sat untouched by the wall, still zipped, as if the woman who’d packed it hadn’t expected to stay long- which she hadn’t. She would be flying home to Phoenix Ridge tomorrow morning. She would never see this woman again. So it was fine to let herself enjoy tonight, she rationalized.
Soren closed the door behind them and leaned against it. The sound of the latch falling into place felt like a line being crossed.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Soren’s gaze moved slowly over Nia. The look in her eyes was full of hunger. And Nia felt suddenly like she might want to be devoured.
“You can still tell me to leave,” she said quietly.
Nia shook her head before she could think better of it. “Don’t.”
Soren pushed away from the door and crossed the space between them. She didn’t reach for Nia immediately—just stood close enough that their breath mingled, close enough that the tension between restraint and desire became almost unbearable.
“Last chance, Doc,” Soren murmured.
Nia met her gaze. “You talk too much.”
