The Consequence (The Evolution of Sin 3)

His lips flattened. “The way she treats you… I knew she was never your biggest advocate but for a sister to treat another sister that way, I think it is disgusting.”

“You’re just protective. I’m sure plenty of sisters have issues with each other.”

Sin shot me an eloquent look.

“Okay, maybe not issues as deep seated and malicious as ours.”

“It’s good to acknowledge that. And thank you for bringing her up, for sharing with me. I told you that as long as we are open with each other, nothing can harm what you and I have. Do you believe me now?”

He was asking if I believed enough in our love to brave the obstacles in our way together. It was a question that he had proven he had the answer to in innumerable ways, from the moment he declared his love for me after Thanksgiving dinner, through his week of wooing me, and the entire time we had been in Paris together. He had stumbled a little after Elena’s email but that was so understandable that it still broke my heart to think of the self-disgust she had instilled in him after all these years.

There was nothing disgusting about my Frenchman.

With that in mind, I answered his question in a way I knew he would understand. “I know we talked about your willingness to move here for me, especially after the job opportunity at Vogue came up. I hope you know that I love you for supporting me but I think it’s time we went home. I’m ready to face the music and our lives are in New York.”

“Are you sure?” he asked and I knew my potential confirmation meant a lot to him.

France had been both of our homes for a long time but it was in our past, our future was in the States.

“Absolutely,” I said.

He groaned, a sound that seemed to be wrenched from the very soul of him, as he drew me tight against his body and buried his face in my hair.

“Mine,” he claimed on a ragged whisper.

“Yours,” I agreed.

We stood in the middle of the Notre Dame plaza for a long time, holding each other and it felt like its own Christmas miracle, to have my arms around a man so perfect for me I could not have even dreamt of him before meeting him. And yet, there I stood with a man so perfect for me and so perfectly mine as much as I was his.

I stood on my tiptoes to murmur, “I have an early present for you. Let’s go back to the Wilde room.”

“Only if you promise to get wild with me,” he chuckled and then groaned, “That was terrible, I apologize profusely.”

I beamed up at him, arms wrapped around his waist. “No apology necessary, as long as you’re smiling, I can put up with your shitty puns.”

His laughter rang out over the holiday music and made me grin all the way back to our room.

I was folded on my knees beside the bed, a strip of red satin over my eyes with another one binding my hands together in a bow behind my back. I had pre-tied the bow and practiced tightening it around my wrists while they were awkwardly pressed behind me so that I could present myself to Sin exactly like this, as his Christmas present.

Of course, I had also gotten him a real gift, a painting that Odile had done of me before I had left for New York. I had posed in a nude workshop for one of her advanced classes and the painting depicted me from behind, my head tilted so that my riotous curls flooded like a lava spill down one side of my back and a sliver of my profile was revealed to show me biting my lip. My ass was round and pert with shadows and highlights and there was something about the deep line demarcating either side of my back where my spine rested that was unspeakably erotic. I knew he would love it even more than I did.

But for now, I was giving him this, me.

I could feel the still air shift, molecules activating with the power he brought to the room as soon as he entered.

“Look at you all wrapped up prettily for me,” he murmured as he came to a standstill in front of me. “It turns you on to present yourself like this for me. I can see how wet your sweet pussy is between those thighs, how your rosy nipples strain begging for me to twist them, bite them, lash them with my tongue.”

I began to pant.

“You look pretty as a picture, Elle. I couldn’t have drawn you better myself but I still want to add my mark. You would look magnificent with my come on those flushed cheeks.”