Page 42 of Summoner of Sins

“I can’t have you getting cold.” He grabbed a large blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders.

Sophie looked up at him, wondering how she’d managed to find herself there with a man who was concerned for her every need, great or small. “Max,” she said with a soft sighing whisper, his name full of all of her intentions and all her feelings.

His hand came to the small of her back, pressing their bodies together as he captured her mouth again. She opened the folds of the blanket, wrapping her arms around him, sheltering both of them in the folds of the fabric.

Firelight filled the room as Max lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down, his weight on top of hers. He was a large man, strong and muscular. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but his weight, pressing her into the mattress, was the most comforting and satisfying feeling she’d ever known.

She sighed into his mouth as he kissed her again. The sweet comfort of it quickly gave way to desire when his hand slid down her side. He then lifted his hips so that he could bring his fingers to her thigh again. He slid higher, lightly brushing the folds of her sex. She gasped in a breath, pulsing need coursing through her. Her hips flexed to chase his touch as she opened wider for him. He kissed a trail over her jaw, swirling his tongue on the sensitive skin just below her ear, as he stroked her slick folds.

Sophie thought she might perish from the pleasure, even as she thought she might never want him to stop. He stroked up and down her skin a few more times, before he narrowed in on the center of her pleasure, circling with the pad of his thumb.

Sophie thought she might have died and gone to heaven. It felt so good, she cried out, her hands twisting into the blanket. Then, pushing up, he brought his other hand between her legs, inserting a finger into her channel. Her world exploded as she squeezed her eyes shut as a moan fell from her lips. He didn’t stop. He kept going as she rode out every last ounce of pleasure.

Only when she lay limp, covered in a sheen of dampness, did he remove his hands, settling himself between her thighs. He kissed her again, her tongue languid as he stroked his against hers. Slowly, he pressed his shaft into her channel, the stretch burning as he sunk deeper.

Sophie didn’t tense. The small bit of pain was nothing compared to the deep connection that came with being joined together. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he sank all the way inside her, his body shuddering as he brought his forehead to hers. “My love.”

She held him tightly as he moved, slowly at first, and then picking up a bit of speed. She could sense that he wished for more, but he kept his movements light and easy. Did he worry about hurting her? She lifted her hips to meet his, encouraging him to take what he needed. His response was to half moan, half roar in her ear as his body shuddered with his finish.

He collapsed on top of her, kissing her forehead, cheeks, and chin. It had been the most exciting night of her life and yet, it had also been the most comforting. Sophie had found her home. Whether they moved to the north or stayed in London, Max’s arms were where she belonged.

The next morning, Sophie woke in bed alone, the rising sun shining through the windows. On the pillow next to her was a scrolled note.

I shall see you at ten at the altar.

All my love.

Max

A smile pulled at her lips as a flush crawled up her cheeks. She rose from the bed, stretching when a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” she called as her chemise settled over her body.

Tabbie stuck her head through the door. “Sophie?”

“What are you doing here?” Sophie cried, rushing to the door.

“Ironheart came to fetch me this morning. Said they had their enemy on the run. Apparently, Whitehouse left London on a ship in the night, chased by the Queen’s men. And since you’re getting married today, he thought I should join you.”

She hugged her friend, so glad Tabbie was there.

“Come on.” Tabbie tugged her hand. “Let’s get you ready for a wedding.”

A maid stepped in behind Tabbie with a dress in hand.

“What is this?” Sophie gasped, and the lace-covered folds of off-white skirts came into view.

Tabbie waved her hand. “Just a little something I had hanging about.”

Sophie shook her head. “You can’t. You’ve given me enough.”

“This one you’re only borrowing.” Tabbie winked. “But you should look stunning on your wedding day.”

Sophie felt tears of joy fill her eyes. How had she managed to find these beautiful people to fill her life?

A breakfast tray was brought in. Two maids, under Tabbie’s direction, styled Sophie’s hair and helped her to dress. By the time they were done, she hardly recognized herself. Her hair was twisted back in an elaborate coif that was just loose enough to appear soft. Several tendrils fell about her face. Her cheeks had the slightest bit of rouge, her eyes darkened.

And the dress…

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