31. The Library
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THE LIbrARY
Layla
My eyes find Orion’s the instant I lift my head from my curtsy. He’s in the front row, clapping and hollering. My stomach flutters as he cups his mouth and whistles, pride showing on his face.
“Interesting development,” Raphael says as we walk backstage a minute later. He turns to face me with a smirk. “I still don’t forgive him for punching me, but I get it now.”
“Get what?”
“He’s in love with you.”
He walks away whistling, and I’m too stunned to speak.
By the time I get to my dressing room, my heart is pounding in my chest. In love with me? I turn the handle, and I nearly gasp when I see Orion leaning against the vanity. He’s wearing his leather jacket, black pants, and his boots.
His motorcycle helmet sits on my pink vanity.
“How’d you get back here?” I ask, breathless.
After closing the door, I bend down to untie my pointe shoes, but Orion takes a step forward.
“Don’t. Leave them on.”
I snap my head up, and he’s right in front of me now.
“Orion—”
He tugs me forward in my full costume, his lips crashing against mine. I don’t ask about his father as Stella told me Charles Ravage passed away earlier today, and that all five brothers were present.
But I don’t know how he’s feeling about it all. I don’t know what he wants or needs, so I ask him.
“I need you,” he rasps, scruff rough against my face. “And God, I’ve always wanted to rip your costume off.”
“Then do it.” His eyes darken, and as he takes a step closer, reality sets in. “Wait. Don’t actually rip anything off,” I tell him, laughing. “The seamstresses will kill you.”
“Very well.” Taking several steps closer, he backs me up against the door. “Then strip.”
With shaking hands, I unclasp the bodice, removing it completely. My nipples tighten against the cool air. He runs his hand along my collarbone before roving down to my bare stomach, and then he helps me out of the tutu. I start to pull my trunks down my hips, but he reaches out and helps me step out of them. I’m now only wearing tights and pointe shoes—and it feels oddly intimate.
Orion cocks his head to the side. “Leave the shoes on.”
“Yes, Master.”
Groaning, his lashes flutter, and I can see the raw emotion in his eyes, the way his breath catches every time he looks at me. There’s something almost tender in the way he watches me, like he’s memorizing every detail, afraid I might disappear if he blinks. His vulnerability, the way his heart is so clearly on display, makes me want him even more.
I jump into his arms, and he pushes me against the dressing room door.
His hands grip my thighs, and they start their perusal up to the apex between my legs.
Everything inside of me is pulsing. When his hand gets to the seam, he quickly tears into the tights with a swift, determined motion, the fabric giving way under his fingers and making me gasp.
“Please,” I pant, legs shaking from my performance.
He seems to sense my urgency because he hoists me up so I’m stable against the wall. The sound of a zipper sounds through the room, and then the thick head of his cock is pressing against me.
“Layla,” he says, mouth on mine as he pushes into me.
We both groan, and my hands come to either side of his head, holding him close. He rolls his hips in soft circles, pulling out most of the way before pushing back in, and my mouth pops open at the feel of his thumb against my clit.
“Are you okay?—”
He cuts me off with a deep kiss, and he groans when I run my fingers through his soft hair. The recessed light above us catches on the dainty gold bracelet around my wrist—the one I insisted had to stay on for the performance. The diamonds sparkle just so, highlighting the constellation pattern, and I gasp.
“Oh my God. It’s Orion’s belt.”
He grunts, and a puff of air escapes his lips. “Took you long enough.”
“You’re so sneaky,” I tell him, gasping when his nails dig into the flesh of my thigh.
“I know?—”
I cut him off with a kiss, wanting his mouth on mine.
He continues to pound into me, continues to swirl his thumb over my swollen bud, and continues to destroy me with his kiss.
With his need.
“Orion—”
“Fuck,” he says, breathless. “I’m never going to get enough of you.”
His lips move down to my jaw before he kisses his way down my neck. My head drops back against the door roughly, and I groan as the tiara’s band digs into my scalp. A sharp snapping sound follows as I feel it give slightly.
“My tiara,” I rasp.
“You’re going to have to tell the seamstresses the tiara broke because you fucked your boyfriend in your costume,” he adds, smiling against my neck.
I should’ve removed it beforehand, but the fact that he needed to be inside me immediately sends shivers down my spine. It’s only when my brain catches up to his words that I realize what he called himself.
“Boyfriend?” I rasp, circling my hips as he drives into me harder, making the door of the dressing room creak.
“For now.”
His mouth brushes my collarbone—a place I’ve come to find is very sensitive, and my whole body goes taut.
“Oh God,” I whimper, closing my eyes as my hands dig into his scalp.
He moves faster, groaning against my skin.
I move my hips down to meet him with every thrust, and his breathing changes before his lips are back on mine.
“I’m going to come?—”
A low, supplicant noise escapes his lips, and I gasp when his cock pulses inside me. Hot spikes of cum hit my cervix, and I watch as his jaw slackens, as his eyes flutter, as his nails almost break the skin of my thigh because he’s holding on so tight.
“Orion, I’m?—”
Everything draws up tight inside me, and one swipe of his thumb against my clit sends my orgasm bursting through me.
A crescendo of ecstasy propels through me, and I squeeze my eyes shut. My toes curl inside my pointe shoes, and little pulses of pleasure run through me for over a minute. His breathing steadies, and when he pulls back, he looks disoriented.
His heart beats erratically against my chest, our bodies fused by my legs tightly wrapped around his waist. He doesn’t pull out, but instead, he continues kissing me. After a minute, he sets me down, quickly cleaning me with some tissues; running them through my folds and kissing me as he goes.
And other than being a little more rumpled than normal from discarding it onto the floor a few minutes ago, the custom-made costume is fine, so I hang it up for dry-cleaning, removing my pointe shoes and ripped tights.
Then Orion helps me into my underwear, sweatpants, and sweatshirt.
I place the tiara on the vanity—only a small piece broke off the band, so I hope it’s an easy fix—and scribble an apology to the seamstress. By the time I grab my things to leave, Orion has his helmet in his arms and his other hand out for me.
Five minutes later, he hands me the helmet he’s been carrying and unlocks his from under the bike seat.
I stand straighter, surprised, and more uncertain than ever. “I drove here?—”
“We can come get your car tomorrow.” I stare at him, tongue-tied, and he sighs. “Put the helmet on, Layla.”
I reach out for the helmet and inspect it. “How?”
He chuckles. “Put it on like a hat. I’ll make sure it’s tight.”
I hold it over my head and lower it down, and everything is suddenly muffled. Orion takes a step closer and flips the visor up, smirking as he turns some dial near the base of my neck until it fits snugly on my skull.
“There.”
He removes his leather jacket and hands it to me. “Wear this. For protection, but also so you don’t get cold.”
I arch a brow when I take in his gray T-shirt. “Won’t you be cold?”
He pops his helmet on, and my God… he’s truly a work of art with that biker helmet and tattoos on display. “No, I’ll have my girl wrapped around me like a koala.”
My girl.
I’m grinning by the time he lifts one leg over the bike, and after I zip his leather jacket up over the top half of my body, he helps me on behind him. My thighs squeeze his hips from behind, and I wrap my arms around his chest.
“Hold on,” he says, voice muffled.
I squeal as we move forward, as the lights of Los Angeles pass us by. At every traffic light, he reaches a hand out to my thigh and rubs it, a nonverbal gesture to make sure I’m okay.
I can’t stop laughing as we merge onto the freeway, and though he’s very safe, it still feels like we’re breaking rules to be riding out in the open like this.
I keep my visor open, and the wind against my face is refreshing. I can’t stop smiling the entire way.
Twenty minutes later, I’m too distracted by the motorcycle ride to notice we’re heading to Los Feliz rather than Crestwood. When he pulls off at my exit, I tap on his shoulder once we get to the light. Flipping my visor open, he does the same.
“Where are we going? Is the AC fixed?” I ask, feeling slightly disappointed that I won’t be going home with him tonight.
“It is. He finished a few hours ago.”
“What about Sparrow?”
“You’re not staying at your house tonight. The paint fumes still need a day to air out.”
My brow creases in confusion. “What paint?”
He smirks, but we’re peeling away at the green light before he answers.
Once we arrive at my house, he parks his bike in my driveway. I remove the helmet and adjust my crossbody bag, and then he removes a familiar black box from a storage compartment on the side of his bike.
“Hey,” I tease, snatching the belated birthday present from his hands. “Did you take this from your apartment?”
His lips tug into a devilish smile. “Didn’t you know that presents are meant to be opened?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I was waiting for the perfect time.”
“Which is when we get inside.”
“Fine.”
He chuckles as we make our way to the front door. I remember the last time we were here last week. How we had a moment of something.
He waits for me to unlock the door, and when I do, cool air greets me.
“Ah,” I say, smiling, walking over to the thermostat. I turn it off since I won’t be staying the night. “You know I’m going to pay you back, right?” I ask, referring to the new unit he had installed for me.
“Sure.” His arms are crossed, and he’s standing by the hallway looking… nervous? “Come here. I want to show you something. Bring your present.”
Setting my bag down, I carry the black box to the first door. My library. Also known as, the bane of my existence. Orion switches the light on, and I nearly drop the box.
The walls are painted a robin’s egg blue, which reminds me of Felicity. I picked it out six months ago because of that, but of course hadn’t had time to actually paint other than half a wall.
The dark wood built-in shelves that line the room are stained with a gorgeous walnut color, but that’s not what catches my attention.
The shelves are carefully organized by author.
He did this. He organized my books.
Emotion catches in my throat as I walk around, taking everything else in. Fairy lights are delicately draped along the top of the shelves, casting a gentle glow that dances off the books and gives the room a magical ambience. In one corner, a plush reading chair with oversized pillows beckons, all in muted tones of cream and white that complement the wall color. A throw blanket is casually draped over one side.
A small wooden side table holds a few miscellaneous books, and a floor lamp with a soft yellow shade stands nearby. A thick Persian rug covers the floor, somehow complementing the blue, brown, and cream. A few houseplants are strategically placed around the room on various shelves.
My eyes brim with tears by the time I turn to face Orion. “You did this?”
He dips his chin and points at the black box in my hands.
I sit down on the chair and untie the satin ribbon. Then I lift the lid. Inside is something wrapped in bubble wrap, and my hands are shaking as I turn it over and over, revealing?—
I gasp.
“Oh my God.”
The Phantom of the Opera.
“A first edition?” My shaking hands flip to the copyright page, and sure enough…
Press of Braunworth & Co. Bookbinders and Printers Brooklyn, N. Y.
First Edition, 1909.
I set the book down on my lap. “Orion, this book is so, so rare. The dust jacket design with the Phantom on the stairwell? Only one of three total physical copies of the book is known to have retained the dust jacket in the whole world .”
I’d done a lot of research.
“Wait, did you pay thirty-two thousand dollars for this?” I ask, breathless.
He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”
I wrap the book back up carefully, placing the box on an empty shelf before I walk back over to Orion.
“It does matter,” I murmur, placing a hand on his face. “Thank you. I don’t think anyone will ever be able to top this gift.”
He smirks, kissing the inside of my wrist. “Good. I will endeavor to always be the best gift-giver.”
Laughing, we spend a few minutes in the library, and Orion tells me about the painstakingly meticulous method he used to organize my books by author. I kiss him—a lot.
And then I grab a few extra things before we lock up and head back to his bike.
“How long do you want to stay at my place?” he asks, handing my helmet to me.
I shrug. “I don’t know, but we should probably come up with a system now that I’m your girlfriend .”
“Well, since the theater is closer to my apartment, technically, you could stay there on performance nights. It’d be easy since I’ll be there too, and I can drive you to my place. We’ll need to figure out shared custody of Sparrow, though. He’s sort of growing on me.”
Suddenly, a future I’d never considered opens up before me.
Spending the warm, summer days by his pool, writhing underneath him in his large, fancy bed. Showering with him— gripping his waist as he drives us through Southern California on his motorcycle. Dinners at my dad’s. Playing together and doing scenes at Inferno. Double dates with Liam and Zoe, and Miles and Stella.
I swallow. “That sounds great.”
“And then, of course, I’ll stay with you the other nights.”
I laugh as I pull my helmet on, climbing behind him. “Only if you don’t mind that I’ll be reading in that amazing library every night.”
“As long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter.”
A thought snags in my mind, and I gasp just before we shut our visors. “Oh God.”
“What?” he asks, twisting to face me.
“We’re going to have to tell my dad about us.” Orion shakes his head as his eyes drift to my lips, a smile tugging on his mouth. “What?” I press, sensing something off. He looks away guiltily. “Orion, what did you do?”
“I’m pretty sure Scott already knows.”
“How?” I ask, a bite to my voice.
Looking back at me with an impish smile, he pops his visor closed.
“Orion! Tell me.”
But before I can demand an answer again, he grabs my arms and wraps them around his waist.
“Hold on, Little Dancer.”
The engine roars to life beneath us, and we speed off into the horizon.