Page 77 of Fire and Silk
He touches my cheek one more time, then steps away and heads into the bathroom.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
When the door closes behind him, I cross the room slowly and climb into the bed. The mattress dips beneath me.
The silence grows thick.
I sink into the pillows, staring at the ceiling. My hand brushes the spot where Mico kissed me—still warm, still tender—but all I can hear is Severo’s voice curling around my ribs like smoke.
“I can satisfy you.”
The words crawl back into my thoughts uninvited.
I close my eyes. My knees curl toward my chest. I groan, a sound caught between shame and hunger and press my face into the pillow.
I don’t want this.
I don’t want to want this.
But I do.
****
Morning filters in through the thick hotel curtains, a muted grey light that softens the corners of the room. I wake slowly, the sheets tangled around my legs, warm from the weight of sleep. I blink into the quiet and roll onto my back, letting my eyes adjust.
The other side of the room is empty.
The blanket on the floor where Mico slept last night is folded neatly, his pillow stacked beside it.
I sit up and stretch, pushing my fingers through my hair. My shoulders ache faintly. My thighs more so. The memory makes my stomach twist—not from shame, but from something far more complicated.
Just as my feet touch the carpet, the door clicks.
Mico steps in, phone in one hand, a paper cup of coffee in the other. He looks relaxed. Familiar. Like the boy who usedto walk me home from school when Marco was late. He sees me and smiles, and that boy is right there again.
“Hey,” he says softly.
He sets the coffee on the nightstand, steps forward, and wraps his arms around me from behind.
His warmth presses into my spine. His lips brush the side of my neck in a kiss so gentle I might have imagined it.
I flinch.
It’s small, instinctive—but real.
He feels it.
I step forward quickly, pretending to grab the coffee. “Sorry,” I mumble, not turning around. “You startled me. I just woke up.”
There’s a pause.
I turn and glance at him.
His expression shifts—just slightly. That kind of expressionless mask people wear when they’re trying not to seem hurt. His mouth twitches at the corner like he’s swallowing a thought.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. “You feel… distant this morning.”
I force a laugh. “I’m just jumpy,” I say, lifting the cup to my lips even though it’s too hot to sip. “Didn’t sleep great.”
