Page 60 of A Sin So Pure

My lips nuzzle into her neck, placing kisses on her pulse. “Not my specialty, I’m afraid. And I’ve been told I have terrible bedside manners.”

Imogen snorts, turning in my embrace. Her fingers dig into the small of my back, keeping me just as close as I hold her. She leans in for a kiss, but I keep our lips from touching with one hand anchored at the back of her neck, fingers curled in her hair.

“I need to tell you something,” I say.

“Okay…”

I take a steadying breath, inflating my chest with the courage to be vulnerable—to be honest. I heard Imogen out, I understand her reasons, and I believe her when she says she won’t betray us again. And that means the only way to move forward—to bridge the gap between us—is totakea step forward.

I hate it when Josie is right.

“You remember how my parents died, yeah?”

She’s heard the gist of it before, not all the details.

Imogen’s blond brows knit together as she nods, attention firmly locked on me.

“The man who killed them is back. And he’s targeting House Pride.”

Her face goes slack; she’s a perceptive woman, hearing the unsaid details between the lines.

“Josie had mentioned something happened,” she says. “Are you okay?”

“A family was butchered, but they spared the child. A daughter.” I clear my throat, not able to look Imogen in theeye. Instead, I’m met with my own reflection, split in half by the blade behind her. “That part was a clear message to me. So, we struck back. Silas knows, and it has since become a more complicated matter.”

“Oh, Nora. I’m so sorry.”

Her hands run over my neck and shoulders, they graze over my cheeks, thumbs swiping at nonexistent tears. She’s trying to comfort me, but she doesn’t realize I’m not sad about it.

I’m furious.

Even more so after we got what we needed from Jamison, and Silas explicitly forbade us from taking any next steps in retaliation.

“I know that things haven’t been… easy between us lately. But even if you doubt me as a lover, I’ll always be your friend. If you need help, all you need to do is ask.”

Imogen runs her fingers through my hair, nimbly finding the point where my neck meets my skull and rubbing with her thumb.

I sigh, my forehead falling to her shoulder.

Fuck, why is this so hard?

“It’s difficult,” I say, running my nose up her neck, drinking in her rose scent. “To let you in.”

She must know there’s more coming, because she stays quiet and continues to rub my neck. A sign of reassurance—that she hears me.

I place another kiss on her pulse, lips lingering on the soft skin there. I need to be close to her heartbeat; the steadythumpsare a calming rhythm.

“You scare me.”

“Why?” she asks.

“Because of how viscerally I reacted the other day.”

I pull back, not enough to let her go, but enough that she can press her forehead to mine. I close my eyes, focusing on the way her nose brushes up against mine.

“If I let you in, it means I can lose you,” I admit.

It means I’m weak.

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