Page 55 of The Fates We Tame
With a belly full of food and a couple of glasses of champagne in my alcohol-parched system, I’m chill as fuck.
The center was great for my rehabilitation, but probably not my sleep and stress levels.
This quiet is good.
Sophia is still in her chair. My feet are on the floor, but I’ve flopped back on the bed. My left hand aches like a bitch, and I find myself opening my fingers wide, then curling them into a fist.
The bed sinks next to me as Sophia sits and reaches for my hand. “Let me.”
She does that thing she did in the center. Stretching my palm, then digging her thumbs in to release the tense muscles. I close my eyes as she works her magic. I feel the warmth of her thigh pressed against mine, and the soft scent of her swirls around me.
I woke up this morning a bachelor. I ended it with a wife.
I hope there’s never a time I regret this decision, but right now, it feels pretty special.
“You okay, Sparrow?”
“Mm-hmm.”
She flexes my fingers, runs her knuckles up my wrist and forearm. Everything is tight when she starts, but loose before she moves on.
“We should get some oil.”
“First thing in the morning,” I say. “Just, for the love of God, don’t stop now.”
Somewhere in the process, I must have fallen asleep because I wake to the brush of Sophia’s lips against mine. It’s the first time she’s taken the lead to kiss me, and I like it.
I cup my hand around the back of her neck and hold her firmly to me. My cock hardens quickly, even though I’m exhausted.
“Come shower with me,” I mumble against her lips. “I’ll hold you, Sparrow. Won’t let you fall.”
I can see a hint of nervousness, but no fear. Her cheeks flush. With embarrassment or need, I can’t tell yet.
“Okay,” she says softly, and I let out a breath of relief.
I stroke my knuckle along her olive-toned skin, taking in her wide eyes, and the slight gap between her two front teeth. The most minor of imperfections is endearing.
“We don’t have to do anything more intimate than washing each other,” I say. “I wasn’t trying to rush us along. I just…I need to take care of you.”
“Aren’t we supposed to consummate our marriage?”
I huff. “I suppose if we were in medieval England and thought the church or some shit was going to come after us and stone us to death if we didn’t, it might matter.”
Her brow wrinkles. “They did that?”
“You’re relying on high school facts coming out of my mangled head. Might be fact. Might be total confabulation like Belle-Odette.”
Sophia smiles softly, and I run my thumb over her lower lip. It’s plump, pink, and soft. Not sure what it is about this woman, but she sucks me into her orbit. She can’t even show me who she really is because even she doesn’t know, and I still find myself fascinated by her.
She’s a survivor.
She’s still standing.
I’m in awe of her.
She stands and turns, lifting her hair away from the zipper of her dress. “Don’t forget Catalina says I have to hang it and not let you ruin it.”
“You’re sure?” I ask. My voice sounds like I’ve been on a three-day bender including way too much whiskey.
