Sophia opened herself to him as his fingers slid between her slick folds. He knew she was ready for him. He kissed her gently.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Nothing matters more than you being comfortable.”
Sophia’s breath caught, but she did not pull away. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders.
Edward searched her face, giving her every chance to retreat. When she only nodded, shy but certain, something softened in his expression.
“I won’t rush you,” he whispered.
He kissed her again. His lips moved slowly over hers, deepening the kiss a fraction at a time. One hand slid into her hair, cradling the back of her head as if she were something precious.
When he entered her, Edward stopped at the small resistance. Sophia arched against him. “Please, Edward.”
“Gently, my love,” he whispered, barely maintaining control. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Sophia gripped his hips, and she pulled him into her. “Oh!” She bit her lip, and Edward saw a glint of tears.
“Are you all right?” Edward braced himself above her, ready to retreat.
Sophia didn’t answer him; instead, she rocked her hips gently. Edward felt the wetness of her and slowly slid deeper into her. He flexed his hips and pushed farther in, her softness tightening around him.
He pulled out slightly, then inched in again. Over and over, until Sophia was writhing beneath him. Her breath came out in small pants.
“Do you want me?” he whispered against her lips.
“Yes, Edward. Yes.” She wrapped her legs around his hips.
This time his strokes were bold and deep, plunging into her in quick rhythm. She met every thrust, and their bodies grew slick with sweat. When she screamed out his name and her body clenched tightly around his shaft, he gave one final, powerful thrust as his own climax joined hers.
A shudder moved through him as his body felt a rush of hot pleasure course through it.
Afterward, Edward lay on his back with Sophia curled against his side, her head pillowed on his chest, her hair spilling across his skin like silk. The fire had burned low, casting dancing shadows across the walls. The world beyond the bed had ceased to exist.
He traced idle patterns on her bare shoulder, his touch featherlight. She hummed with contentment and burrowed closer; her breath warm against his collarbone.
“Stay.” Her voice was drowsy, muffled against his skin. “Don’t go back to your chambers.”
“I was not planning to.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “You would have to drag me from this bed.”
She lifted her head to look at him. Her eyes were soft, and her lips curved in a smile that made his chest ache.
“This is real.” She said it like a question, like she was still trying to believe it. “We are really here.”
“We are really here.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I am not going anywhere.”
She kissed him then, soft and sweet, a kiss that asked for nothing and promised everything. When she pulled back, her hand came up to rest against his cheek.
“I never expected this.” Her thumb traced the line of his jaw. “When I agreed to marry you, I thought… I thought it would be an arrangement. A transaction. I never imagined…”
“Neither did I.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss on her palm. “I thought I knew what marriage would be. Duty. Obligation. A practical solution to a practical problem.” He held her gaze. “I was wrong.”
She smiled, and something in his chest unfurled. Something that had been clenched tight for longer than he could remember.
“What happens now?” She settled back against his chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his skin.
“Now?” He considered the question. “Now we sleep. And in the morning, we wake up together. And then we do it again. And again. For as long as you will have me.”
“That sounds rather permanent.”
