Page 45 of In the Light of the Moon
We made our way out of the living room to a hallway at the back of the house that held two spare bedrooms. With each, he pushed the doors open and gestured quickly to the interiors that held neatly made beds and cozily mismatched furniture. I wondered how often he had guests or if the rooms had just been his father’s idea.
At the end of the hall, he pushed open the last door to reveal a sight that had my jaw hitting the floor.
This bedroom was certainly his. Not only by the fact that it smelled most like him and his cologne.
The room was made almost entirely of windows. Wooden beams separated the panes of glass that extended all the way to the vaulted ceiling, and my hand slipped from his as I advanced forward.
His large bed was pushed up to the left wall, as neatly made as the others, and his nightstand held a neat stack of books beneath the lamp that was emitting dim, yellow light. To the right was another lamp, this one standing on the floor, right beside a leather recliner. And besidethatwas a long, low bookshelf that took up the rest of the wall. Though absolutelystuffed with books, it was organized neatly, and, I guessed, arranged with some system that only made sense to him.
I kept walking until I was almost pressed against the glass of the far wall. Therewasa lake back there. No more than two hundred feet from where I stood, was a sizable lake bordered by the forest I’d driven through on the way here.
And this was the view Orion saw as he was falling asleep and waking every day. What he looked upon when he read in that chair, which I assumed he did often.
After a long, long time, I turned around to see him watching me warily and mussing the curls at the back of his head.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to it, “You look beautiful. I should have—” he shook his head “—I should have said that when you first got here. I was just… nervous.”
My lips tilted downward, and I immediately made my way back toward where he was standing near the door. “Thank you, baby,” I chuckled, “and I was nervous, too.”
Orion looked truly confused, now. His eyes searched this space that I imagined was where he felt most at home. If I lived here, this would certainly be my favorite room. “Why would you be nervous? Do you,” he took a bracing breath, face hardening as if steeling himself for criticism, “do you not like it?”
My head jerked back on that one, and I blamed my desire to make him laugh on what I said next. “Oh goddess, Orion, Iloveit. It’s the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen! And I was nervous because I’d been worrying about being too presumptuous when I packed an overnight bag in my car andthenstarted to think you are so completely out of my league.”
There was a long stretch of silence where Orion met my gaze for the first time since his greeting me outside. But before I could start fidgeting and try to retract my embarrassing honesty, he held my face and brought his nose to mine. He brushed it against mine in that way I’d instantly loved the first time he’d doneit, and his breath tasted like coffee and cigarettes in the best way. “If anyone is out of the other’s league, it’s you, Sylvie.” He kissed me for the first time tonight, soft and deep, and I nearly whimpered in protest when he pulled back to speak over my lips. “And, if you’ll allow it, I was hoping you’d spend the night.”
I couldn’t hold back my grin, “You were?”
It only climbed higher when the timbre of his voice went even lower, “Yes. I’ve been wanting you in my home, sleeping in my bed, for a long while now.”
My breathing picked up. “Oh?”
And then he almost made my knees buckle when he took the flesh of my bottom lip between his teeth, all uncertainty leaving him as he turned into what I thought of as Sexy Orion. Where it felt like he was able to tune out all insecurity in the name of revealing his true desires. He released my lip, now swollen and throbbing in time to that between my legs and pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek before leaning into my ear. “That and taking my time with you. Savoring you like I should have the first time.”
“Shit.” My brain must have short-circuited because that was supposed to stay an inside-thought.
His thumbs caressed my face in gentle passes, “Mm. But first, I’ll finish making dinner. Are you ready to eat?”
I had been spending way too much time with Josie, because my first thought was an immediate yes, followed by what I was eager to taste that was not food. That, luckily, stayed in my mind while I nodded.
Orion gave me another kiss on my cheek before leading us back out toward the rest of the house, “Then I’ll cook for you, my little witch.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Orion
Sylvie sat on one of the barstools and watched me cook. It was an activity I discovered that I quite enjoyed in the years before graduate school. Da was a terrible cook, and the chefs at my mother’s and Sean’s home took care of all of our meals when I stayed there. Boarding and undergraduate school held dining halls, so it wasn’t until I had my first apartment that I discovered the satisfaction that came from turning ingredients into something totally different and delicious.
I supposed in that way, it was similar to carpentry, which I was already familiar with. After a two-year-long fixation with learning to cook Italian cuisine, my fingers were quick and comfortable as I flattened the pasta dough and set the bolognese sauce on the stove. As soon as Sylvie texted her agreement to come over the next day, I’d set out to the store to purchase and begin prepping everything. The sauce was best when it was given the chance to cook low and slow, and even better when the flavors had been mellowing overnight.
She sipped from her glass, bopping her head along to the music coming from the record player that I kept on more often than not. “Is the wine okay?” I remembered that she liked pinot noir from the night she first kissed me, but I’d had to take a guess on which one when she couldn’t tell me a specific brand she enjoyed.
“Mhm,” she smiled over the counter at me, “this is all so wonderful, Orion. Thank you.” Though her skin was that beautiful, warm brown, I could still see the flush that was blooming on her cheeks. I surreptitiously took a drawing inhale, happy to find that her scent read as pleasant, content.
“Of course. I’m happy you’re here. I don’t ever get to cook for anyone besides myself. I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure it’ll be delicious based on how it smells! And you know that I’m not picky. You could’ve put a frozen pizza in the oven, and I would’ve been happy.”
My lips turned down, “I wouldn’t ever subject you to that, Sylvie. And I want to take care of you.” Though I’d loved my time with my father, the cardboard taste of frozen pizzas was one I wanted to erase from my memory forever.
