27. CHAPTER 24
Orion
I shut my door and stood still for a second, my hand pressed hard on the handle, using the solid wood to steady the pulse surging through my body.
My hands still trembled.
I heard her door close and the lock click with a finality that was supposed to put an end to the fever. It didn’t. The heat was still there, alive and thrumming under my skin. My pulse refused to behave.
Unable to stop myself, I turned the handle and cracked the door open a fraction of an inch. The hallway was empty and dark now, as if I hadn’t just had my wife pressed against the wall, tasting her mouth like I’d been starving for years.
I pulled the door shut, letting it click into place, and leaned my weight back into the solid wood. I dragged a hand down my face and tried to breathe, forcing air into lungs that didn’t want to cooperate.
Pushing away from the door, I stumbled into the bathroom and turned the shower dial all the way to cold, desperate to kill the heat burning through my veins.
The freezing shower was a brutal shock meant to snap me back into the man I was supposed to be.
But every time I closed my eyes, I felt the phantom pressure of her fingers hooked into my shirt and the taste of her ‘No’ on my tongue.
I placed my forehead on the tiles and let the water run, realising that for the first time in my life, I couldn't think my way out of a problem.
I finally walked out of the shower, my skin chilled, but my body was still coiled with that same rigid tension a man feels when he knows he’s lost his grip on the reins.
Wanting her was one thing. But this went beyond desire. I was bracing myself for the fact that she was the only thing I couldn’t stop thinking about.
I dressed in joggers, no shirt, and sank into bed, hoping exhaustion could drown the lust lighting up my veins. Her taste still lingered on my tongue, my cock twitching at the memory of how she’d arched into me, and held tight before resisting me.
Sleep was a lost cause.
I lay in the dark with the sheets kicked to the end of the bed, every single muscle wired.
Rain started in a slow patter on the windows, then built. Within minutes it was a full assault, drumming so hard that it felt as though the sky was furious with the earth. Couldn’t be more fitting.
I reached for my phone, more out of reflex than intent. Her ring’s tracker glowed on the screen—a single dot in the room across from mine. Moving back and forth. Pacing, just like our wedding night. Same restless pattern.
My pulse spiked again.
What was keeping her up this time? The kiss? Me?
Lightning flashed again, white and violent, turning the room into a photographic negative for a split second. The thunder followed with a crack that rattled the heavy window glass in its frames.
I stared at the ceiling, my jaw clenched so hard it ached.
I was willing myself to ignore the way my body was still humming from the hallway.
I could still smell her—that tempting scent—lingering in the fibers of my skin.
The phantom heat of the one stolen second where she’d melted into me before that stubborn, beautiful brain of hers had kicked back in.
I wanted a repeat so badly it felt like an actual sickness.
Then, a knock came through the door. It was a sound so hesitant, and thin, it was almost swallowed by the downpour. But I heard it. My heart lurched in my chest as I glanced at my phone.
The red dot was stationary. Directly outside my door.
She’s here.
The thought didn't bring me peace. Rather it brought a fresh wave of adrenaline that made my hands shake.
The knock came again, a little louder this time, and more desperate, cutting through the thunder.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I didn't reach for a shirt. I didn't care about the pair of loose joggers that did nothing to hide the restless, aching state she’d left me in. I crossed the room and cracked the door open, my shadow spilling into the hallway.
She stood there in the dim light, her nightgown clinging to her frame, and her luscious dark hair loose around her shoulders. Startled eyes. No makeup. Just raw panic, poorly disguised as annoyance.
“Léa,” I said, my gaze dragging over her, trying to make sense of her standing at my door like this.
She flinched at a flash of lightning behind me, then at the thunder that crashed right on top of it.
“I hate thunder and lightning,” she blurted, her voice trembling as her gaze raked over me—taking in my shirtless torso, the defined lines of my abs trailing down to the V dipping into my trousers.
It was the first time she'd seen me like this, stripped back and off-guard, and the way her eyes lingered sent a jolt through me.
I arched a brow, a smirk tugging at my lips despite the chaos outside. “Like what you see?”
Her mouth parted, a retort forming in her eyes—fierce and defiant—but another flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a deafening crack. She screamed again, her body jerking like it struck her, and any amusement I’d felt vanished.
“Come in,” I said, stepping aside.
She hesitated, that ridiculous pride she carried around flickering over her features, and then another rumble rolled close and she moved past me fast, as if the storm might drag her back if she lingered.
I shut the door.
Only the bedside lamp was on, casting the room in a warm light.
She hovered near the foot of the mattress, her fingers working the hem of her nightgown as though it could make it less transparent.
How didn’t I know she was terrified of storms? I’d read her dossier, watched her for months… how did I miss this tiny detail?
I made a mental note to bring this up with Severin. It's impossible that Stratum misses an important detail like this while collecting data on an asset.
“You can sit, you know,” I said, my voice still rough with the remnants of my own frustration. “I don’t bite. Unless asked.”
She glared at me, her eyes darting to my bare chest before snapping back to mine. “Since when do you talk like this?”
“Since my wife showed up at my door in the middle of the night,” I countered, resting a shoulder on the canopy frame. “Terrified, and inappropriately dressed.”
Her mouth parted in a small, indignant gasp. “It’s a nightgown.”
My eyes caught the shape of her breast through the almost sheer fabric. My cock pulsed in response.
“Sure.”
I looked away.
Lightning flashed again; thunder followed close. She flinched, more violently this time, and any urge to tease her further faded under the way her shoulders trembled.
I sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside me. “Come here, Léa.”
She closed the distance quickly, her body trusting me faster than her brain did, and perched beside me. Our thighs touched. Heat bled through the thin cotton.
“You always get like this?” I asked, keeping my tone even.
She nodded, staring at her hands. “I’ve always hated it. The noise. The… unpredictability. It’s stupid, I know.”
“It isn’t,” I said.
Another roll of thunder cracked right over us. She folded in on herself, her arms wrapped across her middle, holding herself together by force.
Instinct overrode discipline, and I slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side.
She didn’t resist. Her body tucked into mine, fitting there with effortless ease, her head resting against my bare chest while her breath fanned over my skin.
Then I felt her hand fisting the sheet between us, gripping tightly.
Her heart was racing. So was mine.
The scent of her hit me—a floral note from her hair, something tender from her skin, all threaded through mixed with the fear taunting her.
“The storm can’t touch you in here,” I murmured, my voice a low rumble on her temple. “You know that.”
“I know,” she said, her voice muffled as her face pressed into my chest. “My nerves just don't care.”
Rain lashed the windows, the room briefly lit by another flash. Her fingers pulled tighter on the sheet. Without thinking, I ran my hand slowly down her arm, over her elbow, to her waist. She tensed for a second, then relaxed and leaned closer.
I instinctively held on tighter with my chin on her hair, hoping to give her as much comfort as possible.
“When did it start?” I asked, trying for conversation to drown out the surge of want burning through me at how close she was.
“Since I was a child,” she said. “The house had always felt too big, and too loud. It always felt like everything could fall apart if the storm hits hard enough.”
So it’s not just the weather, then.
I hummed deep in my chest.
My thumb stroked idle circles over her hip through the thin fabric of her nightgown, gentle and soothing. The tension in her shoulders eased a fraction, but the tension in my own body spiked. My arousal tightened into an insistent ache, but I forced myself to keep my composure.
The storm picked up and she flinched again.
A soft, shaken noise broke free from her throat, and went straight to the lowest part of me and took root there.
I shifted, trying to play it cool, but fuck, the way she looked—fragile yet fierce—had me aching to have her under me, just to hear what sounds she’d bless me with.
“You know,” I purred, my mouth inches from her ear, “there are better ways to drown out a storm.”
Her head tipped back, her eyes lifting to meet mine. The room seemed to contract around us. The storm outside was deafening, but in here, everything went dangerously still.
“How?” she whispered.
That tiny whisper was enough to unravel me. I wanted to roll her onto her back and show her exactly how, but I held the line…just.
I traced a knuckle along the line of her jaw, turning her face fully toward mine. “Let me distract you.”
I leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away. She didn’t. Her breath stuttered. Her eyes dropped to my mouth.
“Is this okay?” I asked, so low it was almost a thought.
She nodded once.
Then I kissed her. My lips brushed hers softly in an invitation rather than a claim. Even though all I wanted to do was claim her.