Chapter 20 Twenty

Chapter 20 Twenty
REINA’S POV

The restaurant lights had softened everything, turning the night into a warm, hazy glow. Reina had let the wine flow more freely than usual, each glass loosening the careful edges she usually kept in place. By the time they slid into the backseat of the car, the city lights streaked past like liquid fire, and her skin felt electric, alive with a boldness she rarely allowed herself.

Orion reached for the button on the console and raised the partition without a word. The soft whir sealed them in together, cutting off the driver’s view completely. Reina smiled at the gesture, small and knowing. He had anticipated her mood, or perhaps feared it.

She turned to him, the navy silk whispering against her thighs as she moved. Without hesitation she climbed over the center console and settled astride his lap, knees bracketing his hips, hands framing his face. His breath caught sharply.

“Reina,” he said, voice low and strained, hands rising instinctively to steady her at the waist.

She answered by kissing him, deep and unhurried, tasting the lingering wine on his tongue. Her fingers threaded into his hair, tugging just enough to tilt his head back so she could take more. He groaned softly into her mouth, the sound vibrating through her chest.

She rocked forward slowly, deliberately, grinding down against the growing hardness beneath her. The friction sent heat curling through her core. She did it again, slower this time, rolling her hips in a languid circle that drew another rough sound from his throat.

His hands tightened on her hips, fingers digging into silk and skin. “You’re playing with fire,” he murmured against her lips.

“I want to burn,” she whispered back, grinding harder, chasing the ache that built with every movement.

For a long moment she felt him waver. His mouth moved to her neck, teeth grazing her pulse point, sucking hard enough to mark. His hands slid lower, cupping her through the dress, pulling her tighter against him. She arched, moaning softly, certain he would give in right there, hike the silk up, take her with the city rushing past the tinted windows.

But then he froze. With visible effort he lifted her off his lap and set her beside him on the seat. His chest rose and fell rapidly. “Not here,” he rasped. “Not like this.”

She pouted, wine making her bold and petulant. “Why wait?”

“Because I promised myself it would be different.” He met her eyes, dark and serious. “After our wedding when it means everything.”

She stared at him, frustration and affection tangling inside her. Then she laughed, soft and a little wicked. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m trying very hard to be,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

The car eased to a stop outside their building. He helped her out, arm firm around her waist when her heels caught the curb. In the elevator he pressed her gently against the mirrored wall, catching her wrists when she reached for his tie.

“Not yet,” he said quietly, though his gaze devoured her.

The doors opened. He scooped her up in a bridal carry and strode through the penthouse to the bedroom, setting her on her feet only long enough for her to tug at his shirt buttons.

“Please,” she whispered, voice thick with need. “I can’t wait. I need something now.”

Orion exhaled sharply, control visibly fraying. He kissed her once, hard and claiming, then guided her down onto the bed. He pushed the emerald silk up her thighs, reverent, exposing lace and flushed skin. With careful fingers he tugged the neckline lower until her breasts spilled free.

His mouth closed over one nipple, warm and wet, sucking gently at first, then harder, tongue circling in slow, deliberate strokes. His hand slid between her thighs, pressing firm rhythmic circles against her through the lace, matching the pull of his mouth.

The pleasure built fast and bright. She gasped his name, fingers tangling in his hair, hips lifting off the mattress. When the wave crashed she came with a broken cry, thighs trembling around him, body shuddering through every aftershock.

He stayed with her until the tremors eased, kissing her stomach, her collarbone, her mouth, soft and soothing now. She tried to pull him down beside her, but he shook his head.

“Sleep,” he murmured, helping her out of the dress and slipping one of his shirts over her head. He tucked her under the covers, then disappeared into the bathroom.

She drifted off to the distant sound of the shower running. It started again. And again.

ORION’S POV

Morning light filtered through the curtains, pale and cool. Orion had barely slept. Cold showers had done little to dull the ache that still lingered in his body, and the memory of her taste, her sounds, her trust kept replaying behind his eyes. He had held the line all night, every muscle taut with the effort, and now he stood at the foot of the bed watching her wake.

Reina stirred, stretching lazily, then winced at the faint throb in her temples. She rubbed her eyes and sat up slowly, the oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder.

“Morning,” he said, keeping his voice gentle.

She blinked at him, brow furrowing as fragments returned. The car. His mouth on her skin. The blinding rush of release. Then nothing.

“Did we…?” She trailed off, cheeks heating.

He waited, a quiet hope flickering in his chest.

Her expression shifted to confusion. “I remember the wine. The restaurant. The backseat…” She pressed her lips together. “And then I fell asleep?”

The hope dimmed. He forced a small smile. “You were exhausted. I put you to bed.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

Disappointment twisted in her features, not for what had happened, but for the way his shoulders had tensed, the faint shadows under his eyes. She reached for him.

“Orion.”

He crossed to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, taking her hand. “It’s fine,” he said softly. “We have time. When you’re ready. When we’re both ready.”

She studied him for a long moment, then leaned forward and kissed him, slow and sweet, morning breath and all.

“I’m sorry I forgot,” she whispered.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Don’t apologize. You were beautiful. You always are.”

She curled into his side, head resting on his shoulder. “Next time no wine,” she promised. “And I’ll remember every second.”

He chuckled quietly, though exhaustion colored the sound. “Next time,” he agreed.

He didn’t say the rest aloud, but she felt it in the way he held her close. He was still waiting. Still choosing restraint. Still choosing her, fully and forever.

She tightened her arms around him.

Soon, she thought.

Very soon.