Danny's heart leaps at her words, but he forces a calm expression. "Are you sure about this? I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."
Tara shoots him an exasperated look. "Given the situation, we can't afford to be picky. It's just for one night."
A faint smile touches the corners of Danny's mouth. "Fair enough."
He quickly gathers the blankets from the floor and carefully spreads them over the mattress. Kicking off his shoes, he climbs onto the edge of the bed, deliberately leaving the vast majority of the space for her.
"Let me make one thing clear," Tara warns, taking a spare bedsheet, rolling it into a long fabric barrier, and dropping it straight down the middle of the mattress. "You do not cross this line, or I will kick you off this bed so fast your head will spin."
"Understood. I won't," he promises smoothly, though he secretly wonders what might happen once he falls asleep. Being the perfect gentleman, Danny slides the rolled-up sheet even closer to his side, giving her as much room as possible.
Noticing his accommodating gesture, a flush of warmth spreads through Tara's chest. Her trust in the man deepens. She slips into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin, and turns her back to him.
The room falls utterly silent, save for the soft rhythm of their breathing. That part is manageable enough. What isn't manageable is the unmistakable, rhythmic creaking of a bed from the next room, followed closely by muffled, passionate moans.
They both freeze, eyes wide open in the dark, pretending to be asleep while listening to the explicit sounds filtering through the paper-thin walls. Heat rushes to Tara's cheeks, and Danny feels his own face burning. The awkwardness is absolutely suffocating.
Both of them force their eyes shut, desperately trying to sleep. Neither dares to speak a word, knowing it will only make the heavy tension between them worse.


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