16. Sophie

16

SOPHIE

I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until I hear my family. I pick myself off the pillow, wiping drool from my cheek.

I hear the shifts of a full house—murmured conversations behind closed doors and the soft creak of wooden floors as people move. I let out a breath when I sit up in bed. Soren’s not here. Which gives me a gracious moment alone to collect myself.

Christmas Eve is tomorrow. I’ve barely been able to keep track of everything else happening.

I’ve done something stupid. I’m concerned about the consequences of this. Slowly, I scoot to the edge of the bed. I can still feel the evidence of Soren inside me. It’s leaking out of me and painting my thighs as I quickly get to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, I look as normal as anyone can after fucking a psychopath, I suppose. I leave the bedroom and see my mom and aunt sitting on the couch, looking out at the mountains.

I’m not in a rush to find Soren. I’m concerned he’s not even here. That he lied about why he killed last night, and now that I’ve fucked him, he’s gone out to kill again. I’d rather face my mom than worry about that right this minute.

“Why did you elope?” She asks. The accusatory tone has softened, at least. But I still don’t have a good answer for her. Suddenly Soren emerges from the basement level, bursting into the living room like he didn’t just fuck me senseless.

“Your eye!” My mom gasps at the shiner.

“Had a collision on the slope last night when I was called in.” He walks behind the couch we’re sitting on. I tense. What’s the new normal here? I don’t know.

He stops behind me. I feel his fingers brush the hair away from my neck before he leans over and kisses it. It’s tender and intimate, far too familiar. It makes the skin he touches tingle. I can feel him everywhere again.

“Would you like any hot chocolate? We still have packets of the one you like.”

“No,” I say, completely flustered. He starts to pull away but then comes back in and presses his nose to my hair, inhaling. What the hell.

“Mmm, I missed you.”

“It was a nap,” I say.

“You should have taken one with me earlier,” he teases. With that, he pulls away and strides to the kitchen.

“Wow,” my mom and aunt both say. I send them a panicked smile and shrug. What can you do? No knowing how your psychopathic fake husband will act next. One minute it's fucking you raw. The next it’s smelling your hair and remembering that you like hot cocoa in the afternoon instead of coffee.

My face is so hot I know my blush can be seen from space. I chuckle nervously and scratch the invisible itch above my eyebrow.

“I should get dinner ready. Sandwiches okay with everyone?” I pop up.

“Sounds good,” my aunt says. My mom gives me a strange look.

“Good,” I rush out before escaping to the kitchen.

“What was that?” I hiss at Soren. He finishes swallowing his coffee and looks at me innocently.

“What?”

“You know what,” I say. He wraps a hand around my waist and drags me into his chest. His eyes stare at my mouth.

Please don’t kiss me , a little voice in my head begs. There’s something breaking inside me. I’m not sure I can afford another kiss and keep my head on straight. He leans in and I tilt my head for him.

“I love you,” he murmurs. It feels like my throat is closing up.

My mom clears her throat.

“I came to help,” she says. I quickly peel myself off him and go to the fridge. We collect all the ingredients, paper plates, cups, and napkins.

Soren keeps his distance until my family starts filling in. Then he can’t keep his hands off me. Whispering things in my ear. Asking if I need help and glued to my side like he wants to be nowhere else in the world, even if that’s a mere six feet away.

I can’t take it. I pull him aside.

“What are you doing?” I whisper to him in the corner.

“Convincing your family how much I love you.” He smiles widely as the blush creeps up my face. I turn and stomp back into the thick of things. Soren follows on my heels.

“This is my favorite sweater on you,” he purrs. His hand tugs at the end, reeling me in closer.

“I’m making a sandwich,” I say, struggling to swallow my exasperation.

“Sorry,” he says smiling. He acts like he’s backing off, but a moment later, he wraps his arms around me from behind. His fingers brush my hair, trying to gain access to the terrible spot on my neck he’s decided is the perfect place to gift kisses all day. I can’t do one more of them. The spot has turned into an erogenous zone, and each time his warm lips brush against it, I nearly lose my ability to stand up straight.

“Stop that,” I hiss. I look up to see my mom raising her eyebrow. Shit.

Soren swoops in and kisses the spot while I’m distracted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers loud enough that everyone can hear it.

“Soren, please,” I beg. I’m losing control of my emotions. My heart is breaking away from my mind. He’s confusing me entirely. Was he really telling the truth when he was balls deep? I didn’t realize men could do that. I’m starting to believe him, though. That he might actually love me. What sort of psychopath falls in love with his therapist?

Soren peels himself away and grabs the two paper plates in front of me. He takes the finished sandwiches to the people who ordered them and then comes back around the kitchen bar.

“I’ll stop embarrassing you in front of your family,” he says. It earns awws and chuckles from everyone. “Sit down, I’ll make yours.”

The sandwich he makes me is a piece of art. He pulls the pepper relish from the fridge and toasts the bread. He goes the extra mile, putting together a cranberry cocktail. When he sets it in front of me at the table, all I can do is stare at it.

“Wait, I almost forgot.” He races to the pantry and pulls out a bag of salt and vinegar chips.

“I thought we were out,” I say. He walks back over while popping the bag. I keep staring as he shakes a serving onto my plate. I don’t know what to feel as I stare at it all. This is the same exact sandwich I made myself last week. I didn’t even realize he was paying attention.

“I grabbed some more chips this morning when I stopped to get the pastries and coffee.” He leans over and kisses the top of my head.

Oh, no. This is bad. This is really bad. Soren lifts me off the chair with ease, sits down, and then resettles me on his lap. I almost cry as I eat the sandwich. A stupid fucking sandwich is doing me in.

“You okay?” He asks softly, rubbing my arm as I shove another huge bite in my mouth. I try to say “wonderful” around the food but it’s impossible to understand. I must look emotional because I see my sister-in-law try to discreetly mouth “pregnant” to my aunt.

I drop the sandwich.

“I’m not pregnant,” I snap. My entire family twists their heads my way, their eyes widening slightly. “Yes, we got married fast. Yes, we eloped. It was exciting, okay? He fascinated me from the very first time I saw him. I couldn’t walk away. Even if it meant risking everything.”

“Thank you, Sophie.” He chuckles, his hands running up my arms.

“I love him,” I blurt. Soren’s hands still. I swallow thickly when I feel my eyes sting. This is all too much. I’m losing my mind, and I’m definitely acting like it. My family looks shocked at my sudden outburst.

“He asked me to marry him—to never leave. I’m attached to him so thoroughly that I can’t imagine anything else. He’s brought something back into my life I’ve been missing for a long time. Excitement, risk… I love him, okay? Can we drop the questions?”

I get up from the table and stomp off to the bedroom. A few minutes later, Soren squeezes into the room. His eyes settle on me.

“Do you love me, Sophie?”

“Of course not.” I turn my head away.

“Such a bad liar,” he chuckles. Soren’s on me suddenly. His mouth, his hands, the weight of him pressing me against the wall. “Say it,” he demands between brutal kisses.

“I don’t,” I gasp. He drags me to the bed, and strips me bare. A moment later, he’s inside me, fucking me from behind.

“Say it,” he rasps, rocking into me on all fours. He grabs the back of my neck and squeezes. I drop my face in the blankets, curving my back. It makes him hit the most delicious spot.

“This won't work,” I whisper.

“It already is.” He grips my hips and fucks into me roughly. His breath hitches between deep groans. A moment later, he presses his chest across my back, draping himself over my body entirely.

“You know I'm right,” he rasps in my ear. “You're my person.”

“I'm your therapist.” Thrust . “Your researcher,” I moan. His right hand covers mine, our fingers threading. Our rings press against each other.

“My wife,” he groans. “My partner. Just tell me.” His hand sinks between my legs, brushing my clit. I clench, and he melts against my back, kissing that place on my neck until I can barely think. He doesn’t let up until I come.

There's so much pleasure in fucking my serial killer.

“Even if I do… this isn't maintainable,” I rasp.

“Just tell me,” he begs. “Please, Sophie.”

“I love you,” I whisper. Soren presses deep inside me as he comes. No protection again. Just Soren. When he falls out, his fingers curl inside me, holding his release in.

“What are you doing?”

“Breeding my therapist.” He spoons me in bed, spreading his large hand over my stomach. I feel like I might fall asleep again.

“What time is it?” I ask.

He starts to harden against my ass as he presses kisses to my neck.

“Not again. My family is still out there.”.

“And I'm in here.” His cock sinks inside me, pushing his own release back in.

“We need to stop.”

“Shhh.” His fingers find my clit and rub in languid circles. I moan and angle my hips better. “Such a good therapist,” he chuckles.

“Quickly,” I whisper.

“No.” He patiently moves in and out. “All night, Doctor.”

“Soren,” I sigh. I reach over my shoulder, tenderly pressing my hand to his jaw.

“Wouldn’t want me running off to kill someone, right?” He's joking… I think.

And then he fucks me all night, getting me to the strange headspace where all I want to do is whine and writhe while he does what he wants.