28. Gianna
— ? —
Gianna
Last night in Port Aransas.
Orion had told me the rest on the porch, once I’d made him. The date, Maddie stepping back, the job going to whoever Gianna named. And then he’d stopped talking about it, because he’d meant what he said. He wasn’t going to ask.
I’d been carrying it all day like a stone in my pocket. But tonight, I’d put it down. Tonight was just for us.
Alex was sleeping in the next room, the monitor’s green light steady on the nightstand. The windows were open, salt air drifting in, the endless rhythm of the Gulf like a heartbeat beneath everything.
I reached for him first and pulled him down onto the bed. Showed him what I wanted without words.
We laughed when we bumped heads trying to kiss and undress at the same time. We teased each other about who would get tangled in the sheets first.
“This is your fault,” I said, wrestling with his shirt that had somehow gotten stuck on one arm.
“My fault? You’re the one who insisted on pulling it over my head instead of unbuttoning it.”
“Unbuttoning takes too long.”
“And yet here we are. Stuck.”
“Just- hold still-”
The shirt finally came free, and we both collapsed onto the mattress laughing. His hair was a disaster. I probably looked the same.
“Very smooth,” he said. “Very seductive.”
“I’m out of practice.”
“You’re perfect.” He kissed my nose. “Even when you’re trying to decapitate me with my own clothing.”
The kind of playfulness we hadn’t had in years. Maybe ever. The kind that only happens when two people feel completely safe with each other.
Then it shifted.
I pushed him onto his back and took him inside me in one slow slide, and the laughter went out of both of us at once. His hands found my hips. I set the pace and he let me, his eyes on my face the whole time, his jaw tight with the effort of letting me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice wrecked. “I don’t tell you that enough.”
“You tell me all the time.”
“It’s not enough. Nothing’s enough.” His hands slid up my sides, reverent. “I spent two years not seeing you. Now I can’t stop looking.”
Deeper, more intense. My nails in his back when he sat up to meet me, his mouth at my throat, the Gulf rolling in under the window like it had all the time in the world. Both of us chasing something that felt like coming home.
“I love you,” I said afterward, curled on top of him with my head on his chest.
He went still beneath me.
It was the first time I’d said it since before Singapore. The first time those words had felt true enough to speak out loud.
“I love you too.” His voice was rough. “I never stopped.”
I pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “I think I always knew. Even when I was furious with you. Even when I hated you. I knew you loved me. You were just terrible at showing it.”
“Past tense,” he said quietly. “I’m trying to be better.”
“You are better.” I lifted my head to look at him. His eyes were bright in the darkness. “I see it. Every day. I see you trying.”
“That’s all I want. For you to see me.”
“I see you.” I traced my finger along his jaw. “The real you. Not the CEO. Just… Orion. And I love him.”
His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing away a tear I hadn’t realized I’d shed.
“I want to go home,” I said. “The real home. Permanently, this time. The manor.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I want to be a family. I want our son to grow up in that house. I want to make it ours.”
He kissed me. Slow and deep, I tasted salt and realized he was crying.
I didn’t say anything about it. Just kissed him back.
Then, against his mouth, “And I have an answer for your mother. But you don’t get it until we’re home.”
“That’s cruel,” he murmured.
“Consider it motivation.”
“I was already motivated. I’ve been motivated since the day I met you.”
“Flatterer.”
“Truth-teller.” He pulled me closer. “There’s a difference.”