32. Orion
Orion
Iwouldn’t have believed it was possible, but we somehow make it to end of the day in one piece.
And what’s more, things are good.
Better than good. They’re great.
I toss one last piece of trash into the trash bag Arden is holding, and she ties it off, her movements quick and sharp like she’s using the action to argue with someone about whether she should be done or not.
She stalks to the front of the garage and throws the bag into the dumpster out there, and then walks back, wiping at her face and trying to corral her hair.
Both attempts are pointless. She’s got soot smeared across her cheekbone and most of her hair has fallen out of the bun she put it in this morning. Her clothes are ruined, her knees scratched, and I don’t even want to think about what she’s done to the boots she borrowed from Taryn.
She’s never looked more beautiful.
I take her hand and walk with her through the space, cataloguing the things we’ve done today.
Two whole walls were destroyed and still haven’t been replaced, but we’ve put up the framing for them and just need to pour concrete.
The floor is repaired, the trash cleaned out, and all the damaged wood is gone.
We tore down half the framing on the wall that borders the house and repaired it, then repainted, and I press my lips together as I look at it.
The fire came entirely too close to the house while Arden was in it, and I don’t like how close we were to losing her. I don’t think I could have forgiven myself if anything happened, and I know Mars never would have recovered.
I don’t say anything, though, because this isn’t a time for dark thoughts.
We don’t have a ceiling on the place yet but what we do have smells of cleaner and fresh paint rather than smoke and the heavens are stretched out over us wearing their best jewels.
The lights are off, so we’re standing only in starlight, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I see the flash of chrome from the corner–one of the new toolboxes–and a glint in another from some tool.
And in this moment, everything feels somehow possible. Like we unlocked potential we didn’t know we had, all thanks to a fire that I’m still suspicious of.
I pull Arden toward me, twine an arm around her, and spin her away from my body, then pull her back and start to sway with her.
She laughs in surprised pleasure. “Did you just pull a dance move out of nowhere?”
I spin her again, laughing at her pleasure, and then start to dance. “Maybe.”
“Where on earth did you learn to do that?”
“In a past life,” I murmur, my lips against temple. “A life that doesn’t belong to me anymore.”
And because she’s Arden, she accepts it without questioning me or making me explain. “You’re just full of surprises,” she murmurs.
I chuckle. “Like you should talk. This is all because of you, you know.”
She pulls back and looks at me, frowning. “What is?”
And fuck, there are a lot of answers to that. The smile on my face. The relief in Mars’. The last week of laughter and cinnamon rolls. New traditions about 2 AM and whiskey in hot cocoa. My sudden realization that I don’t have to wear a mask for people to like me.
My further realization that it’s safe to let someone actually see down into my dark soul.
I don’t choose any of that, though, because those aren’t things you say out loud, even if you’ve thought about them.
“The garage.”
She looks around like she’s seeing it for the first time, and it’s no surprise if she is, as she’s been busier all day than anyone else, directing and helping and laughing and making sure everyone knows how valued they are.
This is the first time I’ve been able to talk to her today because other people have been claiming her, and though I haven’t blamed them at all, having her attention back on me feels like finally coming home after a very long, very crowded day.
“You’re not going to take credit for it, are you?” I ask.
I’m not surprised. I would have been surprised if she did. But I’m going to tease her for it when she doesn’t.
She shrugs. “It wasn’t me. It was Wood.”
I pull her back in and put soft fingers to her cheek. “You know that’s a lie.”
When she looks up at me, I see the truth in her eyes. She knows it’s a lie, and that she was responsible. But if she admitted that, it would take away from the gift she gave us.
It would weaken the gesture.
“Are you going to let him say thank you?” I ask quietly.
A ghost of a grin brushes her lips. “If he thinks he must. But it’s not necessary.”
I kiss her then, unable to keep my lips from hers. This girl who came into our lives in a rush, full of fear and doubt and positive that she had to repay us for everything.
Positive that we wouldn’t care for her unless she proved herself useful.
That version of her is still in there. I can see it peeking out sometimes. But she’s starting to realize that she doesn’t have to perform for her supper, here, and she sure as hell doesn’t have to convince us to love her.
We’ll do that no matter what she does or doesn’t do.
The kiss grows deeper, softer, and dreamier, and I tip her head and take as much of her as she’ll give, my body singing at the contact with her. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being allowed to touch this beautiful, giving girl.
But I’m never again going to question it.
I reach down and slip her shirt up over her head, then trail my fingers down over her breasts and belly.
Her skin quivers under my hands and she gasps, trying to break the kiss, but I don’t let her.
Now that I’ve claimed her mouth, I’m not giving it back.
I spread my hands and brush my palms over her belly, reveling in the fact that this girl is mine to touch.
Mine to hold.
Mine to love.
“Hold on,” I tell her.
I leave her for moments only, just long enough to spread a shop blanket on the floor. Then I gesture for her to come to me.
“Come here, baby.”
She comes without question, shedding clothes as she walks, and by the time she gets to me she’s stark naked, and so beautiful in the starlight that she takes my breath away.
I strip out of my jeans and t-shirt, and then my boxers, letting my cock spring free.
It’s hard and longing for her, the skin soft as velvet covering steel, and when she brushes her fingers across the head it jerks and I gasp.
Her touch is soft, almost hesitant as she takes me in her hand and starts to stroke me, but she may as well be made of fire.
Electricity shoots through my body and I feel myself light up at her touch, like she’s the magic that I’ve been searching for my whole life.
She strokes me deep, all the way to the root of my cock, and then pulls back, palming the head. Then she does it again.
And then again.
And now I’m the one having trouble keeping my voice to myself.
I want to call up to the heavens above us, scream her name for everyone to hear.
And I would, I think, if I had a voice to do it.
But my voice is gone, swept away by her touch and the fact that this girl, this tiny angel, is touching me like I belong to her.
And fuck me, if I don’t.
She strokes me until I can’t stand it anymore and I take her hand off me, desperation surging through my veins.
“You’re going to finish me before I’m even in you,” I mutter.
She smiles and brushes her other hand against the precum beaded on the head of my cock.
“Well we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
God, this brat.
I lay on my back, taking her with me, and perch her above my cock, watching her. The moonlight is gilding her features now, turning her hair silver like she’s some sort of goddess, and when I pull her down on me, pulling until I’m fully seated in her, she turns her head to the sky and gasps.
I don’t know if I can stand the beautify of the moment. It’s rushing through my veins with something like quicksilver or fire or something in between, and before I know it I’m holding her while I pump my hips, desperate to get deeper into her, desperate for more connection. More emotion.
More Arden.
It doesn’t last long. I can’t. I’m too entranced, too caught up in her, to focus on making anything last. I’m moving hard, my desperation translating into deep, hard thrusts, when I feel the orgasm building. And fuck, I’m not ready. I’m not ready.
And yet I want to fill her so full that she never, ever forgets about me or how I feel inside her.
“Fuck, Arden, I can’t,” I mutter. “I’m going to... I can’t...”
She leans down, puts her lips against my ear, and whispers, “Come for me, Orion. Now.”
Her words are all I need. I rush over the edge and find her there, her body orgasming around me and pulling me somehow deeper as I shoot into her, her voice in my ear and her breath on my skin, and fuck me, this is heaven.
This has to be heaven. Nothing could ever be better than this.
My beautiful girl sitting on me and making me feel safer and more wanted than anyone has ever been in the history of the world.
This is the moment everything changes for me.
I know it.
I pull her down to lay on me and wrap my arms around her, trying to memorize the feel of her body. And without thinking about it, without even considering the repercussions, I turn my mouth toward her ear.
“I love you,” I whisper.
I feel her laugh.
“I know,” she murmurs.
And though she hasn’t said it back, my heart is flying and my blood is singing in my veins. Because in Arden’s world, saying those words are dangerous.
But she knows how I feel, and she hasn’t walked away.
She may not have said she loves me back. But she does. My heart is telling me so.
And that right there is something I never thought I’d experience in my life. Not until Arden Rossi walked into it.