The Sinner

My question dissolved into a soft moan as Cas slipped his arms around my waist and put his mouth to my neck. Pleasant shivers rippled through me as his teeth nipped, his tongue and lips migrating up to my ear.

“Did I miss you?” he finished. “Yes. Did I daydream about having you? Yes. Did I fantasize about taking you on my lectern in class, or on my desk in my office, or up against the wall in the hallway…?”

“That’s a lot of places,” I managed weakly, melting against him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“The subject for today’s lesson was sex and marriage rites an ancient Sumer,” he said. “You have no idea how difficult it is to describe your own wedding night to a room full of college students without getting an erection.”

I laughed, but it faded fast, and he felt my tension.

“What’s wrong? I didn’t actually give particulars of our night—”

“No, of course you didn’t.” I turned in the circle of his arms and stopped, arrested by how beautiful he was. How he looked at me with such love and want, the way I’d always dreamed of being looked at. It was all too perfect. Too good.

“You don’t have to be with me,” I blurted.

He blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“I-I don’t know. I just…I need some air.”

I went outside and sat on the top step of the stairs. I heard Cas follow me and quickly brushed away the tears of frustration that slid down my cheeks.

“Lucy. Talk to me.”

“We were married four thousand years ago, but that doesn’t mean you have to stick with me. Or be…obligated.”

“Obligated,” he said flatly. “But I am obligated. I’m obligated by how much I love you.” He sat down beside me. “Where is this coming from?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. My inner demons telling me this is too good to be true.”

Cas muttered a curse and withdrew a small black box from his suit pocket. He turned it around and around in his hands. A little gasp fell from my lips.

“I should’ve given it to you months ago,” he said. “Every day since I came back, I could’ve gotten down on my knees and asked if you’d be my wife.”

“Why didn’t you?” I asked softly.

He turned to me, his eyes heavy and full of love. “The same reason you came out here. ‘Inner demons’ telling me that it wouldn’t be good enough. So I’ve been reading your romance novels for guidance. I wanted to make my proposal something special. To give you what they call a grand gesture.”

A fresh rush of love swept through me at the idea of this man pouring through my romances, just like I had, looking for something he could give me. “Is that why you insisted on packing my books last? You’ve been reading them?”

“Yes, but I can’t do what the billionaires do.” An adorably grouchy scowl came over his face. “And how are there so many billionaires in the first place? Or British nobility? How many eligible dukes does the royal family have?”

I laughed. “You have to suspend disbelief in the name of love.”

He scowled. “It’s enough to make a poor professor feel inadequate.”

“I don’t need a grand gesture.” I hid a smile in his shoulder. “But if you wanted to open the box, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Not yet. Your books taught me another phrase—the grovel.” I started to laugh but he turned to me, so earnest and serious. “I must beg your forgiveness, Lucy.”

“For what?”

“For so many things. Little wounds I’ve given you…and large ones. Ones that cut deep. For the time I told you to mind your fucking business in the department store. I couldn’t stand the idea of you being worried about me. Already, your gentle heart cared for a bastard like me.”

“Oh, Cas. You don’t have to—”

“I do. I’m sorry I made you feel ashamed when you were dressed up to go to the singing bar, when in truth, I was stunned by your beauty.”

“Really? I thought you hated all of it. The makeup, the dress…”