Chapter 22 Twenty two

Chapter 22 Twenty two
REINA’S POV

The drive home from Gran’s felt longer than usual. Boxes of new clothes sat neatly stacked in the trunk, but my mind stayed fixed on one quiet, dizzying truth. I was really getting married. To Orion Blackwood. The man who once saw me as pure chaos was now planning our wedding in two weeks or less. The venue will be the garden at Gran’s house, we will take our vows under the oaks. It was the stuff of fairytales.

I pressed my forehead against the cool car window and smiled until my cheeks ached. He was handsome in a way that still surprised me: sharp jaw, storm-gray eyes, and that quiet strength in his shoulders that made me feel safe even when he tried to keep distance between us.

For weeks, I had pushed against his walls, teasing him, kissing him until he escaped to cold showers. Now those walls were coming down not because I had forced them, but because he had chosen to open the door.

By the time the elevator reached our floor, my heart raced with giddy, nervous joy I had not felt since I was a teenager waiting for a boy to notice me at the county fair.

I stepped into the penthouse, kicked off my shoes, and paced the living room. Bessie trotted after me, bleating softly as if she sensed my excitement. The space smelled faintly of lavender and the coffee Orion had brewed that morning. Everything felt brighter and sharper, as though the world had increased its color just for today.

The front door opened.

Orion walked in, loosening his tie with one hand and holding his briefcase in the other. He looked tired around the edges after a long day, but the moment his eyes met mine, his expression softened.

I did not think. I simply moved.

I ran across the room and jumped into his arms.

He caught me on instinct. The briefcase dropped to the floor with a thud. My legs wrapped around his waist and my arms circled his neck. He staggered back one step before steadying us both.

“Reina,” he said.

“Husband,” I breathed against his mouth, then kissed him.

He made a low, surprised sound that vibrated through me. I kissed him again, happy and hungry, pressing quick, joyful kisses to his lips, his jaw, and the corner of his smile.

“You’re home,” I whispered between kisses. “My husband is home.”

His hands tightened on my thighs, holding me up effortlessly. I felt the precise moment when surprise shifted to pleasure. His mouth curved under mine, his breathing changed, and then he took control.

One arm banded around my back. The other slid under my thighs. He carried me across the living room as if I weighed nothing and sank onto the sofa, settling me astride his lap.

The kisses slowed and deepened.

His tongue brushed mine and heat bloomed low in my belly. I cupped his face, thumbs tracing his jaw, and kissed him the way I had dreamed of all day: slow, sensual, savoring every slide and catch. His hands roamed my back, fingers spreading wide, pulling me closer until no space remained between us.

I rocked against him instinctively. He groaned into my mouth, the sound raw and desperate. His hands moved to my hips, guiding the rhythm and urging me to move again. I did. The friction felt electric. My breath hitched. His fingers dug in harder.

The kisses grew hotter and messier. Tongues tangled, teeth grazed lips, and small needy sounds escaped us both. My hands slid into his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl. He kissed down my throat, open-mouthed, sucking lightly at the spot that made my hips jerk against him.

“Reina,” he rasped against my skin.

I pulled his mouth back to mine, kissing him deeper and grinding down harder. He was thick and hard beneath me, straining against his trousers. I could feel every inch of him. The ache between my legs sharpened and grew insistent.

His hands slipped under my sweater, palms hot against my bare back. Skin met skin. I arched into the touch and whimpered when his thumbs brushed the undersides of my breasts.

We were both breathing hard now. The room felt too small and too warm. My body had turned to liquid fire.

Then he broke away.

His forehead dropped to mine. His chest heaved. His eyes were almost black, pupils wide and glittering with raw need.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Reina… I can’t.”

I blinked, dazed.

“What?”

He closed his eyes for a second, as if the sight of me was too much. When he opened them again, the hunger remained, but iron resolve had locked into place.

“I’m waiting,” he said hoarsely. “For the wedding night.”

My heart stuttered.

“You… what?”

“I want it right,” he said. His thumbs stroked slow circles on my bare skin, soothing even as his voice shook. “I want vows first. Then all of you.”

I stared at him, chest tight with something larger than desire, something tender and overwhelming.

“You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.”

I swallowed hard. My body still hummed and ached, but his words wrapped around me like a vow already spoken.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He exhaled roughly, as though he had been holding his breath for years.

“But I’m going to die before then,” he muttered.

I laughed softly, shaky.

“You’ve survived this many cold showers. Two more weeks won’t kill you.”

He groaned and dropped his head to my shoulder.

“You’re evil.”

I pressed a kiss to his temple.

“I love you.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Simple. True. Terrifying.

He went very still.

Then he lifted his head slowly. His eyes searched mine, raw and unguarded.

“Say it again,” he said quietly.

I cupped his face.

“I love you, Orion.”

For one long suspended second he simply looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time all over again.

Then he kissed me: soft, reverent, almost worshipful.

When he pulled back, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“I love you too.”

The words landed like sunlight after a long winter.

We stayed like that for a long time, foreheads touching, breathing each other in, hearts hammering in perfect, unsteady rhythm.

Neither of us moved.

Neither of us spoke.

The future hung between us, bright and terrifying and beautiful.

And neither of us was ready to let go just yet.