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The Pocket Watch and Other Little Stories

By Bea Sobreira

Romance / Other

Acutely Sinful

She wore a dark shade of blue today. The exact shade of sapphires—the silk clinging to her shape perfectly. He watched intently, sat on the corner chair of the room while she slowly and methodically removed her healed shoes and one by one pulled out the silver pins from her hair, entranced by the release and fall of each bit of hair past the curve of her shoulders to the curve of her back.

Her thoughts were elsewhere, he could tell. She had that look of worry on her face, dark brows furrowed and her lips were half a pout and half a frown.

Today had been the first day she had gone out to the city since they arrived home. It had been two long months of bed confinement for him and late nights and early mornings at his bedside for her.

She had treated each and every bruise of his body with her herbs, with her love and with her gentle touch. Her hands were very precise, carefully selecting each little root, each little leave. Washing and smashing them; mixing, cutting, boiling, squeezing. She had cured his body and slowly, in their own little rhythm, was curing his soul.

She carefully removed her dress and the corset she despised—and for some reason unbeknownst to him continued to use. He watched as her nimble fingers undid each button and each string of her prison. She was only in her thin white blouse when she looked at him, with a tender smile and without a word exchanged he handed her the long, white and soft camisole that she swiftly put on, unashamed of briefly revealing to him her white and pink flesh or her naked breasts.

He lay in bed clad in a soft white shirt and pajama trousers that he had never imagined himself to wear—but that had earned his preference during the long days of his bed rest. She smiled as she watched him get under the blankets with him; she knew exactly what he was thinking of as she glanced at his navy blue pants.

"How was your evening Ms. Ives? " He asked with that typical southern drawl, nudging her playfully with his elbow.

"It is unfortunate Ethan that you have not allowed yourself to discover the pleasures of the opera…" He raised a brow and rolled his eyes.

"Well there is enough drama around here, darlin'."

"You know, it's strangely refreshing to be preoccupied with other people's problems other than my own for once. Violetta's woes were quite entertaining"

"Speaking of woes…" She eyed him, eyebrows knitted and those huge blue eyes full of curiosity and also dread towards what would come next, stared piercingly into his.

"Father Cleary wants to know if we have settled on a date for the wedding. Apparently we are trapped in an acutely sinful love entanglement that may sever our baptismal ties to God. His words."

"Fuck it then—I told you already that I refuse to be married." He smiled at her rare use of a swear word and leaned in to whisper provocatively in her ear.

"Let's see how long you'll last without any—a man can't live in sin forever…"

"Nor can he live without sex. " She chuckled and wrapped herself around him, ready to sleep.

"You are extremely spacious for such a tiny lady. " She smiled, head comfortably on her pillow, halfway asleep.

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