The towel slipped from Yelena's fingers with a quiet rustle, the sound barely audible over the hum of the motel's old air conditioner. I couldn't see her—she was behind me, and Claire's body was pressed against my front—but I didn't need to. The way Claire's breath hitched, the way her eyes widened just slightly, the flush creeping up her neck—it told me everything.
Yelena moved, the mattress dipping as she settled in beside me, her bare skin brushing against my back. The heat of her radiated through the thin fabric of my shirt, her breath shallow, uneven.
Claire's hands flew up, covering my eyes before I could even think of turning. "Jack, don't you dare look back," she hissed, her voice sharp with warning.
Then she whirled on Yelena, her voice rising. "Yelena, what the fuck are you up to?!" she snapped, her fingers already grabbing the spare blanket from the foot of the bed and yanking it over Yelena with more force than necessary.
