Page 55 of Thankful for My Orc
Maybe we can both have jobs that demand sacrifices. Maybe love isn’t about avoiding those demands, but about supporting each other through them.
Chapter Nineteen
Jordan
I wake to the sound of his key in the lock, the familiar rumble of his truck engine having pulled me from a restless sleep. I’ve been curled in his bed for hours, wearing one of his department t-shirts over my lingerie, alternating between worry and anticipation.
The front door opens and closes, followed by the sound of heavy boots being kicked off. I sit up, suddenly wide awake, my heart hammering as I hear him moving through the apartment.
“Jordan?” His voice is rough, exhausted.
“In here,” I call softly.
He appears in the bedroom doorway, hair still wet from a shower, wearing clean jeans and a simple black t-shirt. His hair hangs loose below his shoulders for the first time—I’ve only ever seen it in braids or pulled back, and seeing it down takes my breath away. He looks tired but clean, safe and whole, and the relief flooding through me is overwhelming.
“You stayed,” he says, and there’s wonder in his voice.
“Of course I stayed.” I get out of bed and hurry to him without hesitation. “Are you okay? Anyone hurt?”
“Everyone’s fine. Got them all out.” He reaches for me and pulls me against his chest. As he holds me carefully, as if I’m the most precious thing in the world, I melt into his embrace. I breathe in his clean scent—soap and his natural musk that makes my knees weak. “I’m sorry. Tonight was supposed to be perfect, and then—”
“Forge.” I pull back to look at him, my hands framing his face. “Do you realize what just happened?”
“I ruined our night?”
“You showed me that we’re the same.” I can’t help but smile at his confused expression. “All this time, we’ve been worried about my work interrupting our relationship. Tonight, your job called you away at the worst possible moment, and you know what? I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t hurt. I just… waited.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes. “We both have demanding careers.”
“We both have callings that sometimes require sacrifice. The difference is, your job actually saves lives.” I trace the line of his jaw with my thumb. “I’ll always worry when you’re called to something dangerous. But I’ll also be proud of what you do.”
“And I’ll always support your dedication to your clients.” His voice is rough with emotion. “Even when it means interrupted dinners or rescheduled dates.”
“We’re going to be okay,” I realize aloud. “Both of us bringing our whole selves to this relationship, external demands and all.”
“Better than okay,” he agrees, thencaptures my mouth in a kiss that tastes of affection and promises.
When the kiss ends, his eyes are dark with renewed hunger. “Jordan… after tonight, after seeing you wait for me, that you chose to stay…” His voice drops to a rough growl. “I’m not going to be gentle. I’m going to take you completely.”
The possessive promise makes me shiver with anticipation. “I’m counting on it.”
That breaks his restraint. His mouth crashes down on mine, harder and more demanding than before. His tusks graze my skin, a shiver of danger threading through the heat. His hands tangle in my hair, which is already disheveled from hours of restless sleep, as he angles my head to deepen the kiss. I moan into his mouth, pressing closer to his massive frame.
He steps back, his eyes raking over me hungrily. “Let me look at you. My shirt, your lingerie underneath…” His voice is rough with want. “You have no idea how perfect you look right now.”
I’m still facing him, breath caught in my throat, until he murmurs, “Turn around.” The quiet command makes my pulse jump, and I obey without thinking, feeling the heat of his gaze on my back as he steps closer.
His hands find the hem of the oversized t-shirt I’m wearing, slowly lifting it up and over my head. When it falls to the floor, leaving me in just the black lace lingerie from the gala, I hear his sharp intake of breath.
“Fucking perfect,” he growls, his hands skimming over my shoulders, down my arms. “My dirty girl,” he rumbles approvingly, his lips finding the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. “Planning to seduce me all along.”
His hands cup my breasts through the lace, and I arch into his touch. The contrast in our sizes is overwhelming—his hands are so large they completely cover my breasts, his body so broad and strong that I feel delicate and feminine in a way I never have before as he pulls me back against him. His cock is already hard, jutting against my spine.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, one hand sliding down to rest possessively on my stomach. “So small and perfect. Built to fit against me.”
I arch slightly, glancing back to find his gaze over my shoulder. The sight of him—fully in control, still half-dressed while I’mstripped bare, tusks gleaming as his smile turns hungry—makes warmth spill through me in a slow, aching wave.
“On the bed,” he orders, his voice rougher now, more commanding. “Lie back and spread your legs for me.”
