I let Sophie lead me to the shower, murmuring over my bruises and split lip, her busy fingers unbuttoning my shirt as she walked backward, alternating between scolding and sympathizing. I ignored most of it. I'd already had my scolding from Mrs. W, and I was more interested in getting Sophie naked than in her sympathy.

I worked on her zipper as she turned on the hot water, peeling all that elegant, navy silk from her smooth, creamy skin. I loved her body, loved the way she was made. So soft and round in all the right places. The curve of her ass. Those full breasts. Everything about her was warm and welcoming.

Including the way she gasped when I ran my hand down her spine, cupped her ass, and dropped my fingers between her legs. I urged her over the tile threshold and under the steamy spray, watching as the water darkened her silvery hair, plastering it to her face. It stung my split lip but felt good on my bruises.

I didn't object when she urged me to switch places with her. Especially since she poured citrus scented body wash into her hands and rubbed the soap all over my skin. I'd stand there all day if Sophie wanted to scrub me down.

She started out briskly efficient, but when she turned me around to face the water and went to work on my shoulders, her stroking hands slowed.

Her breasts pillowed against my back as she leaned close, sliding her hands over my chest, stroking me in long swipes, fingers dropping teasingly close to my cock. Her nipples were two hard points when her hands took my length in her slick, soapy grip.

She squeezed once, and I had to fight to keep my knees from going weak. One hand pumped my cock, and the other dropped to cup my sack. I groaned her name. “Sophie.”

Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, she leaned back and pulled my hip, turning me to face her. Water cascaded over both of us, rinsing the soap from my body as Sophie dropped to her knees and took the head of my cock in her mouth. I tipped my face back into the spray, eyes closed, oblivious to the stinging pain of the water on my lip, to my aches and bruises, as the sweet suction of her mouth chased it all away.

Her hand closed over my ass, fingers digging in, pulling me closer, taking more of me. Her tongue fluttered against the underside of my cock, sending shivers up my spine.

Before I completely lost it, I pulled her to her feet and turned us around, reaching behind me to sweep bottles of shampoo and body wash and who knew what else off the deep bench on the far side of the shower. Plastic clattered to the tile, and I sat, pulling Sophie onto my lap facing me.

She blinked at me, clearing the water from her eyes, and I watched them flare wide as I sank two fingers into her tight, hot pussy. She fell forward, her breasts against my chest, her mouth sucking at my neck as I pumped my fingers in and out, my cock straining, needing to take their place.

Spreading her knees wide, I lowered her, filling her sweet pussy in slow, torturous increments. She was gasping for breath by the time I sank to the hilt inside her. Her mouth lifted from my neck and she breathed, “Gage, Gage.”

The tight quarters of the bench didn't give Sophie much room to move, but she didn't need it. My hands closed over her ass in a tight grip, and I rocked her against me, grinding her pussy down hard, lifting her barely an inch before bringing her down again. And again. And again, until she went flying into orgasm. Her body clamped down on my cock, and I followed her, spilling into her in gasping shudders.

When we thought we could move again, we dried off, and I carried her to her bed, sliding us both beneath the covers naked. Now that we’d taken the edge off in the shower, I could take my time. Settling myself between her legs, I did just that.

We slept late the next morning, mostly because I woke Sophie more than once, reaching for her in the dark, needing to touch her. To be inside her. Something about my confession of love and hers in return had unlocked any restraint I still had. I wanted to imprint my body onto hers, to fill her with me so deeply I became a part of her and she a part of me.

If it'd been up to me, we would've stayed in bed all day. But Sophie, being Sophie, insisted on meeting Amelia at the breakfast table as usual. Unlike Sophie, she let me hold her hand all the way there. I guess she was done trying to hide our relationship. Fighting over her in front of the whole family made hiding pointless anyway.

Aiden was already there, the newspaper spread out in front of him, his face a kaleidoscope of greens and purples and blues, bruised and swollen. I took a long look and said to Sophie, “Do I look that bad?”

She only arched an eyebrow at me and shook her head. I was taking that as a yes. She busied herself with Amelia, and I looked up to see Aiden sliding me a folded section of the newspaper. He tapped the headline, an article about developments in steel production.

“What do you think about that?” he asked.

I picked up the paper and began to read, quickly absorbed by the subject matter. Only a few days before I'd been studying up on both the process and the company in question as Winters Inc. had been considering going into business with them. I didn't look up until a plate slid before me at the table.

Cold oatmeal. Ugh. Why did I have cold oatmeal when I smelled bacon?

I looked around the table to see another bowl of cold oatmeal in front of Aiden. His coffee cup was empty, and mine had never been filled.

Both Sophie and Amelia were digging into plates of fluffy scrambled eggs, partnered with small mountains of bacon and hot bowls of creamy cheese grits. Steaming cups of coffee sat in front of them.

Shit. Neither of us had apologized to Mrs. W for our fight the night before. Sophie looked up and took in my plate and Aiden's, then looked back to her own and Amelia's. She shook her head and said under her breath, “Serves you right. Both of you.”

“You're not going to share with me?” I asked.

Picking up a piece of bacon and taking a delicate bite from the end, Sophie shook her head again. “That wouldn't be fair,” she said. “Amelia doesn't have enough left to share with Aiden. You'll just have to take your punishment and then apologize. I can't believe you both got into a fist fight in the middle of the wedding.”

Looking a little bit ashamed of himself, Aiden said, “It wasn't in the middle of the wedding, it was at the end of dinner.”

Both Sophie and Amelia ignored his excuse. Sophie slanted Amelia a look and said, “You deserve cold oatmeal, too. That was not funny.”

Amelia’s shoulders began to shake. She swallowed hard to clear her throat before her laughter got the better of her, and she choked. Through her giggles, she said, “It was hysterical. The look on Gage's face? I thought he was going to explode before he even stood up. Maybe you three didn't think it was funny, but the rest of us haven't had that much fun in years. They used to go after each other like that all the time when they were boys.”

Sophie looked from Aiden to me in fascination. “You did? What did you fight about?”

Aiden and I both shrugged. “Nothing, really,” I said. That stuff was impossible to explain to women, especially a woman like Sophie. Sometimes we just needed to let off a little steam. Most of the time whatever had seemed important at the first punch wasn't a big deal by the time we were done.

Sophie would've told us to sit down and talk out our differences. A good fight was more efficient. Aiden and I suffered through our cold oatmeal and went together to apologize to Mrs. W for our behavior. Just as she had when we’d been kids, she accepted our apologies with starchy formality and a warning to see it didn't happen again.

The house was quiet the next few days. Tate, Emily, Charlie, and Lucas all left on their respective honeymoons. Annalise left abruptly after an unexpected and mysterious delivery of flowers to the gatehouse. Despite the extra security, Annalise had taken one look at the arrangement of gardenias and violets, turned bone white, and gone to pack her bags. No amount of arguing had changed her mind.

An hour after the flowers arrived, she was gone. Sophie had taken the arrangement, vase and all, and carried it to the kitchen with shaking hands, shoving it deep in the trash. She wasn't as bothered by the flowers as Annalise, but it was close. When I asked her about it, she just shook her head, lips pressed tightly together, and refused to discuss it. Things had been so good I let it go.

Aiden had gone back to work, but for the next few weeks, he decided I would stick with him. We split our time, working from his home office in the mornings as he put me through a crash course on the company, and in the corporate headquarters every afternoon where I shadowed him, taking notes and getting up to speed. We hadn't decided what my official position would be, and I didn't care.

Like Aiden, I'd interned at the company through high school, learning from the ground up, earning minimum wage and working my ass off. And like Aiden, I’d loved every minute I was there. It wasn't just the business; it was all the memories tied up in the place. Knowing my grandfather had sat at Aiden's desk. Remembering the way I'd perched on my father's lap in the office that would someday be mine.

The company wasn't just about money and power; it was history and family. To Aiden and to me, Winters Inc. was just as much the heart of us as Winters House. Being back healed something inside of me that I’d damaged all those years ago when I'd left.

A few days after Annalise took off, Aiden and I sat behind his desk in Winters House, poring over a pair of spreadsheets, when an alert sounded from the front gate. Aiden punched a finger at the screen of his phone and put the guard on speaker.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Someone here to see Mrs. Armstrong. Says he has information and a delivery from her husband.”

For a second, I didn't know who he was talking about. I never thought of Sophie as Mrs. Armstrong. I hated hearing the title of another man's wife attached to her. The most primitive part of me bristled at the thought.

Aiden looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I nodded, and he said to the guard, “Let him through.”