Page 63 of A Sin So Pure

I hum.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” I murmur, and her body freezes. I smirk, letting my eyes capture every detail of the woman before me. “I’m never going to be able to look at my desk without thinking of your sweet cunt now.”

The relief is instant—the drop of her shoulders and huff of laughter filling the room. She bats my hands away.

“You can’t say shit like that, Nor,” she sighs. “Fuck. You scared me.”

I snort, unable to hold my own laughter back. We lapse into silence, and I rest my head on my forearm that drapes over her leg. I mindlessly trace patterns on her milky thigh.

I glance up at Imogen. With her hair a golden halo and skin flushed pink, she’s the picture of salvation.

Imogen shivers.

“I want to stay,” she says, running a gentle hand through my hair.

I close my eyes and sigh.

“Good. Because you know I have a sweet tooth, and I’m not nearly done with dessert.”

“And what aboutmydessert?” she teases, knocking her knees into me playfully.

I huff, forehead dropping to her soft thigh before biting it. She squeaks as if she’s been tickled, jumping from the desk right into my lap. Both of us laugh as she pulls my lips to hers.

It’s a languid kiss, our tongues slow dancing to our calmed heartbeats. And when our lips part and Imogen kisses her way to my ear, she sets my nerves alight.

“But seriously, I want one of those cookies.”

16

IMOGEN

When morning breaks my slumber, the sun peeks through the slatted wooden shades, illuminating the still and sleeping Nora. Her long lashes dust over alabaster cheeks, and her bare skin glows under the streaks of sunlight, her ribs expanding with each easy breath she takes.

It’s progress, seeing her like this.

My body hums with newfound peace. All the weight I’ve been carrying for the past year has disappeared—and while I know there’s a long road ahead of us, we both took a huge step last night.

The fact that she didn’t kick me out as dawn broke is proof enough.

I bite my lip, fighting the smile that wants to spread across my cheeks.

Closing my eyes, I try to lull myself back to sleep, snuggling under the covers and into the warmth of her embrace. But minutes pass and I only get more and more aware of my surroundings. Rest runs away from me, swift and elusive.

I slip from the bed, making sure to tuck the quilt over Nora; my fingers graze over the raised twin scars running downher back. They bracket her spine, reaching from between her shoulders to just above her waist.

I’ve never asked about them, but I know, like the rest of Faerie, how they got there.

It’s well known that House Pride has a history of shearing its member’s wings as a sign of loyalty. To cast away your own ego and choose to serve thefamily. The former Pride had shrunk the practice to only his inner circle, but that didn’t make it any less barbaric.

My spine tingles as if my own wings are shivering at the thought.

Tea. I am in urgent need of some tea.

I steal a robe hanging from the back of Nora’s wardrobe and wrap the soft black fabric tightly around me. The last thing I need is for one of House Pride’s staff to see me prancing around naked.

Nora’s living space is situated one level above her office, with one half of the penthouse floor belonging to her and the other to Josie. In a series of interconnected rooms, her bedroom leads into a small dressing area with a wardrobe, dresser, and mirror.

I patter past the bathroom, with its black tiled floors and large clawfoot tub, in which I immediately picture Nora soaking, bubbles clinging to?—

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