Page 65 of Sin and Redemption

His hand was warm around mine. His grip firm but not too firm. He led me upstairs then stopped in the hallway and faced me. “I want to share a bed. I’m your husband and I’m done living like roommates. I don’t expect you to have sex with me but I want us to share a bed.”

I wished he hadn’t added the last part because I would have really like to have sex again, even if I wasn’t fertile.

“That’s okay,” I said simply. “The second bedroom on the left is my favorite.”

We stepped into the bright room. It had a splendid look over the premises and the ocean. The king-sized bed and the decorations were kept in a maritime style, with lots of white and blues, shells and seagulls as decorations. I loved the place.

Maximus watched me. “If you’re okay with sharing a bed, why did you never suggest it before?”

I turned around fully. “I don’t know. I felt awkward. I wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted. Why didn’t you?”

“Sara, you’re my wife. And I want to act like your husband, not just be him on paper. And the reason I just don’t decide these things is our past. Of course I could just tell you to share a bed with me, but I need to know you’re okay with it.”

Now, I regretted not having brought up the matter a couple of weeks ago like I’d intended to do. “I am.”

He released a low breath. “I need you to tell me if you’re okay with other things too. I don’t want to push you.”

“I know, and I’ll try to be more proactive. I like that you kissed me that day at your parents. I wouldn’t mind if you do it more often.”

“All right,” he said and stepped up to me. He cupped my cheeks, tilted my head up, lowered his head slowly, and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. I smiled, amazed at how good this small gesture felt.

He cleared his throat, his amber eyes locked on mine, and slowly pulled back. Then he stopped before the distance between us grew too much, and with a small chuckle, he bent down and kissed me again. “I needed another one. Now I’ll get our luggage.”

I nodded. When he’d disappeared out of the door, I released a small breath and touched my lips. Closing my eyes, I enjoyed this moment of utter contentment.

“Sara?” Greta called.

I stepped out into the hallway just when Greta came up the staircase. She’d straightened her short dark hair. Part of it had burned off when she’d been attacked a few months ago. The mafia world was cruel, especially to women. She looked good with shorter hair, though. Her pretty doll face always looked good.

“We want to make a bonfire and roast marshmallows and hot dogs.”

I raised my eyebrows. “That doesn’t sound vegan.” I wasn’t an expert on vegan food, but since I’d started to become friends with Greta, I’d done some research.

“They’re not. But I got vegan marshmallow and vegan mini wieners for myself, and you’ll have the non-vegan version.”

We headed downstairs together. Maximus and Amo were outside, stacking logs in the big firepit close to the pier.

Greta and I began to prepare the hot dogs and a tray with marshmallows. She pulled out a bottle of red wine from the cabinet. “I’m in the mood for mulled wine. What about you?”

I hesitated. Alcohol wasn’t really beneficial if I wanted to get pregnant, but I had my period anyway, so it was still some time before my next fertile window rolled around.

Greta furrowed her brows. “Are you pregnant?” Her voice was curious and neutral, but I wondered if this was a hard topic for her, considering what had happened to her. She would never be able to carry a baby, and the idea almost brought tears to my eyes, but I didn’t want to ruin our evening by becoming overly emotional, especially since Greta wasn’t prone to emotional outbursts.

I shook my head with a tight smile. “No, I’m not.”

“Was it rude of me to ask?”

“We’re friends, it’s okay.” But I knew it could soon become a very loaded question.

Greta regarded me, the bottle of wine still in her hand. “I won’t ask again.”

“Let’s drink mulled wine.” We warmed the wine with some spices before we poured it into four cups and moved out. The men had started a fire and lounged on the wooden chairs around the firepit.

I handed Maximus a mug and sank into the chair beside him with my mug. Amo pulled Greta on his lap and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Cheers,” Maximus said, raising his mug. We all did the same, then took a sip. The warmth and tartness of the mulled wine helped with the bout of jealousy I felt at the easygoing affection those two shared. Maximus caught my eyes, and with the way the flames reflected in his amber eyes, they seemed to burn. I gave him a reassuring smile.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

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