Page 28 of Marked By the Broken Orc
The way his eyes darken when I say “our home” makes my stomach flip. He leads me through the living room, pointing out details the previous owners left behind, the crown molding that’s been recently painted, built-in storage we hadn’t noticed in the photos online. In the kitchen, I run my hands along the granite countertops and open the cabinet doors just to hear them softly close. “This is where I’m going to make you breakfast every morning,” I announce.
“You cook?”
“I’m learning.” I grin at his skeptical expression. “Okay, I’m terrible at it. But I’ll get better. Or we’ll live on takeout and cereal. Either way.”
He pulls me against him, his large hands spanning my waist. “I don’t care what we eat as long as we’re eating it together.”
“Gawd, you’re romantic when you want to be.”
“Only for you.”
We explore the rest of the downstairs together and find the room that could be a home office, a half bath, the laundry room that’s twice the size of my current bathroom. Everything feels surreal, like I’m walking through someone else’s life. Someone who gets the fairy tale ending.
“Ready to see upstairs?” Kavin asks.
I nod, suddenly aware that upstairs means the bedroom. The bedroom where we’re going to...
My heart hammers as we climb the stairs, his hand warm and steady in mine. The second floor is exactly as I rememberedfrom the photos, with two spare bedrooms, a full bathroom, and at the end of the hall, the primary suite.
Kavin opens the door and steps aside to let me enter first.
“Oh,” I breathe.
The room is mostly empty except for an enormous bed that dominates the space. King-sized, maybe even larger, and it’s definitely big enough for an orc and his human mate. The mattress is covered with simple white linens and a dark grey comforter and there are two nightstands with matching lamps on either side.
“I wanted you to choose how to decorate the rest of it,” he says quietly. “This is your home too. I want it to feel like yours. I just purchased this so we’d have somewhere comfortable to sleep.”
I turn to face him, and the vulnerability in his expression nearly undoes me. He planned all of this during these last few days when I thought he was avoiding me. This powerful, gorgeous male who doesn’t realize that he could have any woman he wants and choseme. And he’s worried about whether I’ll like the bed and the space he left for me to fill. “It’s perfect,” I tell him, and mean it completely. “I like what you’ve picked out already and I appreciate that you want me to do the rest.”
He relaxes slightly. “The closet’s pretty big. And there’s space for a vanity if you want one, or a reading chair, or whatever you?—”
I silence him with a kiss.
It starts soft, just my lips pressed against his between those tusks, but it quickly turns into something much more desperate. His hands tangle in my hair, and I press myself against the solid wall of his chest.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“Mia,” he groans.
“I know.” I reach for the hem of his shirt. “I know what this means. I know what happens next.”
His hands cover mine, stilling them. “Are you sure? Once we do this?—”
“I’ll be pregnant with your son. I’ll be your mate for life. No going back.” I look directly into his dark eyes. “Yes, I understand and this is exactly what I want.”
He studies my face for a long moment, searching for the doubt he won’t find. Then his hands move to the bottom of my shirt, and he pauses. “I’ve never done this before,” he admits quietly.
I can’t help but love the idea that I’m his first and hopefully only. This isn’t something I ever thought of as criteria for a husband, but I have to admit it does make this even more special that I’d assumed. “I know,” I explain. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Both of us remove our shoes and socks. He lifts my shirt over my head, his movements careful and reverent. When his eyes land on my prettiest, most expensive, push up bra, I hear him inhale sharply. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, reaching up to trace the edge of lace with one finger.
“So are you.” My palms land on the broad expanse of green skin I’ve been fantasizing about for weeks. His chest has always been the stuff of my dirtiest sexual fantasies, and his abs are luscious. He’s all muscle and power, but his hands are gentle as they reach behind me to unhook my bra.
When the fabric falls away and my large breasts bounce free, he gazes hungrily at my chest. “Can I touch you?” he questions.
“Please.”
His large hands cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples until I gasp. The contrast of his green skin against mine is beautiful, and the careful way he touches me, like I’m something precious, makes my chest tight with emotion. Soonhe’s sucking one nipple and then the other and I’m about to fall into his arms.
