Chapter 9 Poe
NINE
POE
I can’t fucking sleep. The house is quiet and I lie in bed staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours, mind spinning between the relief of that stolen text to Ozzy and the way Orchid looked doing yoga earlier. Sleep is not happening. My body’s too wired, too aware of her just across the hall.
I finally give up, swing my legs over the side of the bed, and pull on a pair of gray sweatpants. No shirt. The air feels cool against my skin as I slip out of the room and pad downstairs toward the kitchen. The only light comes from the under-cabinet LEDs, casting soft shadows across the counters.
I open the fridge, grab a bottle of water, and twist the cap off. The cool rush down my throat helps a little.
Then I hear her.
Soft footsteps on the hardwood. A quiet sigh.
Orchid steps into the kitchen wearing nothing but an oversized black t-shirt that hits mid-thigh and socks that make no sound.
Her hair is down, still slightly damp from her shower, falling in loose waves over one shoulder.
She freezes when she sees me, eyes flicking over my bare chest before she quickly looks away.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” I ask, voice low in the quiet space.
She moves to the cabinet, reaching for a glass. The hem of her shirt rides up just enough to show the smooth curve where her thigh meets her ass. My mouth goes dry.
“Thirsty,” she mutters, filling the glass with water from the fridge dispenser. She keeps her back to me, but I can see the tension in her shoulders.
I lean against the counter, taking a slow sip of my own water while my gaze traces the line of her legs, the way the thin fabric clings to her body. “You looked good today. At the party. In the pool. Doing yoga. Hell, you look good right now.”
She turns around, glass in hand, and narrows her eyes. But there’s color rising in her cheeks. “Poe.”
“What?” I step closer, not enough to crowd her, but close enough that I catch the faint scent of her soap, something clean and floral that makes my blood heat. “I’m just saying what I see. You’ve been walking around here like you don’t know exactly what you do to me.”
Her breath catches. She sets the glass down a little too hard, water sloshing over the rim. “We shouldn't be doing this. You’re supposed to be focused on the work Serafina wants. I’m supposed to be keeping you in line. Not… this.”
I smile, slow and deliberate, letting my eyes drop to her mouth for a second before meeting her gaze again.
“And what is ‘this,’ Orchid? Me noticing how your shirt is riding up? How your legs look like they could wrap around me and never let go? How I’ve been thinking about the way you moved on that yoga mat all damn night? ”
She swallows hard. Her fingers grip the edge of the counter behind her like she needs the support. “Stop.”
But she doesn’t move away. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and I can see the rapid rise and fall of her chest under that thin shirt.
The air between us feels thick, charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.
I want to close the last bit of distance.
I want to lift her onto the counter, push that shirt up, and find out exactly how she tastes.
“You feel it too,” I say quietly, voice rough. “I saw the way you looked at me when I caught you stretching. You’re not as unaffected as you pretend.”
For a second she looks almost vulnerable. Then the mask slams back into place. She straightens, chin lifting. “This cannot happen. It won’t happen. Go back to your room, Poe.”
I fall to my knees before her. “Make me obey you, Orchid.”
She stares at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “What are you doing?”
At this point I’m not above begging. My body’s like a livewire. I’m hot and so fucking turned on I can’t think straight. “Tell me what you want me to do,” I whisper, getting into a submissive pose.
“Get up.”
I gaze up at her. “You sure that’s what you want?” I can tell she likes to play boss, and right now I’d let this beauty do anything to me.
“Yes. Get up, Poe.”
I rise to my feet. “As you wish.”
She brushes past me, shoulder grazing my bare chest. The contact sends a spark straight down my spine. I catch her wrist gently before she can escape, thumb brushing over her pulse point. It’s racing.
“Sweet dreams, Orchid,” I murmur, close enough that my breath stirs the hair at her temple. “I know mine are going to be very interesting.”
She yanks her wrist free and hurries up the stairs without another word. I stay in the kitchen for a long moment, listening to her door click shut. My body’s on fire. Hard and aching, cock straining against the soft fabric of my sweatpants.
I head back upstairs, jaw tight, every step making the friction worse. The second my bedroom door closes behind me I shove my sweatpants down and wrap a hand around myself. I’m already leaking, so turned on it almost hurts.
I lean back against the door, eyes closed, and let the images flood in.
Orchid in the kitchen, that oversized shirt barely covering her ass.
The way her nipples had tightened under the fabric when I looked at her.
Her long legs wrapped around me. That perfect ass in downward dog.
The soft sound she might make if I slid my hand between her thighs right now.
I stroke myself slow at first, then faster, thumb sweeping over the head on every upstroke.
My breathing turns ragged. I picture her on her knees in front of me, dark eyes looking up while she takes me in her mouth.
I picture bending her over the kitchen counter, fucking her deep while she tries and fails to stay quiet.
I picture her riding me, hair loose, tits bouncing, moaning my name like she can’t help it.
“Fuck,” I whisper, hips jerking into my fist. The tension coils tighter, hotter, until it snaps. I come hard, spilling over my hand with a low groan, her name caught behind my teeth.
My legs shake as I ride it out, chest heaving. When it finally fades I slump against the door, heart still pounding.
The relief is temporary. The ache is already creeping back in because the real thing is right across the hall, pretending she doesn’t want the same thing I do.
I clean up quickly, crawl into bed, and stare at the ceiling again.
This thing between us is dangerous. It’s fucking stupid and likely to get one or both of us killed if we let it go anywhere.
But lying here in the dark, body still buzzing from the memory of her scent and the heat in her eyes, I can’t bring myself to regret a single second of it.