Chapter 26 Orchid
TWENTY-SIX
ORCHID
The morning light is soft and gray when my eyes finally open.
It filters through the blinds in thin, hazy strips, casting gentle shadows across the room.
For a moment everything feels suspended, quiet and safe.
Poe’s still asleep beside me, his breathing deep and even.
He lies on his back, one arm flung loosely above his head, the other resting across his stomach.
The sheet has slipped down to his hips, exposing the hard planes of his chest and the dark ink of his tattoos.
His hair’s messy against the pillow, and there’s the faintest stubble along his jaw.
He looks peaceful in a way that makes my chest ache.
I should stay here. I should curl into his side and let the warmth of his body chase away the doubts that are already creeping back in.
But I can’t. The events of last night sit heavy on me, the wine, the laughter, the way I let myself get tipsy and loose and vulnerable.
I shouldn’t have drunk so much. I should have kept my head clear.
Now my mouth feels dry and my thoughts are tangled, and the only thing I can think about is the phone I left downstairs. Rookie mistake.
I slip out of bed as quietly as I can, the cool air raising goosebumps on my bare skin.
I pull on the oversized t-shirt I had discarded last night and pad barefoot down the hallway.
The house is silent except for the faint creak of the floorboards under my feet and the distant, muffled sounds of the neighborhood waking up.
In the kitchen I find my phone exactly where I left it on the counter.
I pick it up, heart beating a little too fast, and dial Marlo’s number.
It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. Four.
The voicemail picks up, her voice cool and professional, the same message I’ve heard a dozen times before.
I hang up without leaving one. I try again.
Same result. No answer. No text. Nothing.
Something’s wrong.
Marlo always answers. Always. Even at odd hours, even when she’s in the middle of something dangerous, she has never let a call from me go to voicemail.
The silence feels louder than any alarm.
My stomach twists with a sharp, cold dread.
Is she compromised? Has Serafina found out about our connection?
Or is this something else entirely, something bigger that I haven’t seen coming?
I set the phone down and grip the edge of the counter, staring at the dark screen.
I want to open up to Poe. The thought hits me hard and fast. I want to tell him everything.
About the undercover work. About Marlo. About why I’m really here and how long I’ve been playing this dangerous game inside Goldenbell.
He deserves to know. After last night, after the way he looked at me and touched me, he deserves the truth.
Maybe he can help. Maybe we can help each other.
The decision settles in my chest like a weight lifting and a new one dropping at the same time. I head back upstairs, bare feet silent on the steps, the t-shirt brushing my thighs with every movement. My heart’s pounding by the time I reach his bedroom door. I push it open slowly.
Poe’s still asleep, exactly as I left him. The sight of him makes something soft and terrifying bloom in my chest. I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out to brush a strand of hair off his forehead.
“Poe,” I whisper. “Wake up. I have something I need to tell you.”
His eyes flutter open, dark and warm, and a slow smile curves his lips when he sees me. He reaches for me immediately, hand sliding up my thigh under the hem of the t-shirt.
“Come here,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and something deeper.
Before I can say another word, he pulls me down into the bed.
His mouth finds mine, soft at first, then deepening as his hands roam over my body.
I should stop him. I should tell him what I came here to say.
But the way he kisses me, slow and thorough, the way his fingers trace the curve of my waist and slide under the shirt to cup my breast, it makes my resolve waver.
The words die on my tongue as heat pools low in my belly.
“Poe, wait,” I breathe against his mouth, but there’s no conviction in it.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes dark and searching. “I’ve been thinking about you all night. About how you taste. About how you sound when you come for me. Let me take care of you again, Orchid. Let me make you feel good.”
I should tell him. I should confess everything right now. But his mouth’s on my neck, kissing and sucking gently, and his hand is sliding between my thighs, finding me already wet. A soft moan escapes me instead.
“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Take me, Poe.”
His groan is low and hungry. He flips us so I’m underneath him, his body warm and solid as he kisses me again, deeper this time, more possessive.
His hands are everywhere, gentle but sure, mapping every inch of me like he’s memorizing me.
He pushes the t-shirt up and off, tossing it aside, then kisses his way down my body, slow and reverent.
He lingers at my breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth while his thumb circles the other, drawing soft, needy sounds from my throat.
“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs against my skin. “Every part of you. I could spend all day worshipping you like this.”
He moves lower, kissing down my stomach, nipping at my hipbones, spreading my thighs wide.
When his mouth finally reaches me, it’s gentle at first, slow licks and soft sucks that make my back arch off the bed.
He takes his time, savoring me, tongue circling my clit with perfect pressure while two fingers slide inside me, curling just right.
“Poe,” I gasp, fingers threading through his hair.
He hums against me, the vibration sending sparks through my body. “That’s it, baby. So sweet and wet for me.”
The pleasure builds slowly, steadily, until I’m trembling beneath him. He keeps the rhythm perfect, never rushing, drawing it out until the orgasm crashes over me in long, rolling waves. I cry out his name, thighs tightening around his head as I come.
He doesn’t stop until I’m shaking and whimpering.
Then he crawls back up my body, kissing me deeply so I can taste myself on his tongue.
His cock is hard and hot against my thigh, but he doesn’t push inside me yet.
He rolls us onto our sides, facing each other, and hooks one of my legs over his hip.
His hand slides between us, fingers teasing my entrance again, spreading my wetness.
“I want to feel you,” he whispers against my lips. “I want to be inside you while I look at you. I want to watch your face when you come around me.”
He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, eyes locked on mine the entire time. The stretch is perfect, deep and full. When he bottoms out we both moan, foreheads pressed together. He stays still for a moment, letting me adjust, his hand cupping my cheek.
“You feel like home,” he says softly, voice rough with emotion. “So tight and warm. So perfect around me.”
He starts to move, slow, deep rolls of his hips that make me gasp with every stroke.
It’s tender and intense, nothing like the rough, commanding sex we’ve had before.
His hand slides up to my throat, fingers resting lightly against my skin, not squeezing yet, just holding me there, intimate and possessive.
“Is this okay?” he asks, voice low. “I want to feel you like this. I want you to know you’re mine right now.”
I nod, breathless. “Yes. Please.”
He applies gentle pressure, just enough to make my pulse jump under his fingers, just enough to make everything feel sharper, more intense.
His hips keep rolling, slow and deep, hitting that perfect spot inside me with every thrust. The combination of his hand on my throat and his cock filling me sends pleasure spiraling higher and higher.
“Look at me,” he murmurs. “I want to see your eyes when you come.”
I keep my gaze locked on his, the intensity of it almost too much. His thumb strokes the side of my neck, gentle even as his fingers hold me there. The pressure is perfect, intimate, making me feel claimed and safe at the same time.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers. “Taking me so deep. So good for me. I can feel how close you are. Come for me, Orchid. Let me feel you fall apart while I’m inside you.”
The orgasm builds slow and powerful. When it hits, it washes over me in long, shuddering waves.
I cry out, clenching around him, my hand gripping his wrist where his fingers rest on my throat.
Poe groans my name, hips stuttering as he follows me over the edge, spilling deep inside me while his hand stays gentle on my neck.
We stay locked together for a long time afterward, breathing each other in, bodies pressed close. He kisses me softly, reverently, his hand sliding from my throat to cup my cheek.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers against my lips. “Whatever happens next, I’ve got you.”
I curl into his chest, heart still racing, and for a moment I let myself believe him.
But the secrets I’ve been carrying are still there, heavy and waiting.
And I know I can’t keep them hidden much longer.