Page 33 of Summoner of Sins

She’d hurt him. She’d have to be more careful because he had deep wounds that would take time to heal. Closing her eyes, she kissed him again. He didn’t kiss back, but he didn’t pull away either. “It’s just…I am rather troublesome and needy.”

By small increments, he relaxed. Running a hand through his hair, she said “Part of me thinks I ought to say no because…” She felt him tense again. “Because I think you might grow to resent me.”

“Sophie,” he said. “I am the sort of man who can hold the weight of your world. I don’t know a great deal, but of that I am certain.”

“There you go again, spouting poetry,” Ironheart called over his shoulder as he started up to the second floor. “Who knew the man who excelled at silence had a poet’s heart?”

“I said shut up, Ironheart.”

“Is that any way to talk to a man in his home?” Ironheart chuckled despite his words, continuing up the stairs. “I trust you’ll have a magical evening.”

Max didn’t respond, his gaze holding hers. “I’ll still protect you, even if you say no. I’d never let him hurt you, I?—”

“Max,” she said and then she kissed his again, a light touch of her lips that held all her intentions. “I know you’ll protect me. You are the finest man I’ve ever met.”

“Fine?” he said, grimacing.

Did he want to be something else? “Handsome. Brave.” She kissed him a third time, her eyes fluttering closed.

His fingers spread out on her back, his mouth moving with hers.

“I don’t think I’m worthy,” she whispered into his mouth.

“I disagree.”

“All right then, I accept, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She smiled, intending the words, at least in part, as a joke.

Max scowled at her. “Do not speak of my wife that way. She is the finest woman I’ve ever met.”

“Fine?” She wrinkled her nose. “You’re right. It’s a terrible word to use to describe the person you love.”

He smiled back. “Sophie. I’ve never had a family. Not a real one. I’m counting on you to teach me how this all works.”

Her eyes widened in surprise because this notion had never occurred to her.

“I’ve watched you twist yourself into knots trying to provide for your sister. You fight for her the way no one has ever fought for me.”

He kissed her again, his tongue dipping between her lips. She kissed him back, the desire between them flaring red hot as he carried her up the stairs.

She only pulled back long enough to tell him, “Abigail is asleep in my bed.”

He stopped in front of her door, setting her lightly on her feet. “That’s all right, I should leave you to return to her.”

She stared up at him. It was her turn to be offended. They’d agreed to marry. Her body was aching with need. “Max. No. I want?—”

“I don’t know what will happen tomorrow or the next day. I won’t compromise you, Sophie. Not until we’re legally wed.”

She frowned then. “You’re right. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow or the next day. And if we were to only have tonight, I would spend that time in your arms.”

For one second, indecision flashed in his eyes, and then he picked her up again. He carried her one door further down the hall to his room. Opening the door, he set her down and then crossed the room, softly opening the connecting door between his room and hers. “In case Abigail wakes up,” he whispered, crossing back to her side.

She opened her arms and wrapped them around his neck. They kissed again, their mouths sliding together as one kiss blended into another. His hands came to the opening of her housecoat. He parted its heavy folds, the thick fabric sliding to the floor. He stepped back, his jacket and cravat landing in the pile of discarded garments. Bending down, she unbuckled his boots.

Silently, he sat on the bed, and she helped to pull them both off. Kissing him was fire, but the intimacy of helping him undress was…magic. Her hands slid back up the muscles of his legs, his breeches highlighting the thickness and strength he possessed.

He looked down at her, his jaw locked in hard lines. “Sophie.”

“You’re so strong,” she murmured with a sigh. “I love the way you feel.”

---