Sold to a Marseille Don, So He Knelt at My Father's Grave novel · Chapter 20 of 24

Chapter 20: The Galette

Antone's POV

I woke on Epiphany morning with her back against my chest and the first gray light on the window.

The old port had gone pale below us, and a church bell was ringing the hour somewhere in the Panier.

Vannina lay on her side with her knees drawn up, and her dark hair spread over my arm.

She was warm all the way down.

I lay still and did not want to move, because for the first time in eleven years I had slept through to the light.

She stirred, and made a small sound, and pressed her hips back into mine without opening her eyes.

I was already hard against her, and she knew it.

"Good morning, husband," she said, thick with sleep.

"Good morning," I said.

"That is not a good morning," she said. "That is a rude one."

"I can stop."

"Don't you dare."

I laughed into her shoulder, and I kissed the back of her neck.

My hand slid down her ribs and over her hip and found the warmth between her thighs.

She was wet already, from sleep or from dreams, and she sighed.

I stroked her slowly, with two fingers, without any hurry.

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