She smiled up at him, and he was struck by the most remarkable desire to laugh. He was happy, he realized. So damned happy.
And it felt good.
He positioned himself over her, ready to enter her, ready to make her his. This was different from the last time, when they'd both been swept away by emotion. This time they had been deliberate. They had chosen more than passion; they had chosen each other.
"You're mine," he said, his eyes never leaving hers as he slid inside. "You're mine."
And much later, when they were exhausted and spent, lying in each other's arms, he brought his lips to her ear and whispered,
"And I'm yours."
*
Several hours later, Sophie yawned and blinked herself awake, wondering why she felt so lovely and warm, and…
"Benedict!" she gasped. "What time is it?"
He didn
