Font Size
Line Height

Page 14 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc (Monsters of Saltford Bay #1)

Chapter Eleven

Cassidy

I can't believe it's finally done.

The late afternoon sun pours through the freshly cleaned windows, catching on the polished oak cabinets and making the sage-green walls glow.

I stand in the middle of my new kitchen, breathing in the lingering scent of sawdust and fresh paint.

The room sparkles with possibility, and for the first time since I moved in, I feel like I’m home.

I can't help but twirl, arms outstretched, feeling like Julie Andrews on that mountain in Sound of Music , except my hills are made of freshly painted walls and gleaming oak cabinets.

Sure, my kitchen might not make it into Better Homes and Gardens , but right now, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Still alive and kicking, huh?" I mutter under my breath, allowing myself a small victorious fist pump. "Take that, Jason."

I stretch, feeling the pleasant burn in my muscles from all the work I did.

I'm not used to physical work and it shows, but it's also the most satisfying thing I've ever done.

The golden rays of sunlight streaming through the freshly cleaned windows catch my eye, and that's when I spot her.

Marigold is lounging in a patch of warmth by the back door, her orange and white fur glowing like embers.

The stray cat has been hanging around closer and closer, though she still refuses to let me touch her.

Right now, she's sprawled on her side, one paw tucked under her chest, looking perfectly at home on my back porch.

She just blinks lazily at me through the glass, like she's finally deciding this might be a safe place after all.

"What do you think, girl?" I ask as I crawl to the sliding patio door. "Not bad, huh? Who knew this kitchen could look like this?"

The cat yawns, clearly unimpressed by my enthusiasm. Still, the fact that she's here at all feels like progress.

I open the glass door slowly, and to my surprise, Marigold sits up and meows at me instead of bolting. I squat down on the wooden planks and keep still. Her suspicious green eyes study me as she takes a tentative step forward.

"Come on, sweetie," I coax, holding out my hand. "I won't hurt you."

She inches closer, her whiskers twitching as she sniffs my fingers. For a moment, hope blooms in my chest, but then she retreats one step and turns away, then disappears back into the forest like a ghost .

"You're tough, I get it. You think you don't need anyone, but you can't just stay outside like that," I call after her, but without any real hope. "You're gonna end up as owl food one of these days."

Heavy footsteps echo from the hallway, and I straighten up, turning to find Gerralt filling the doorway. His t-shirt molds to his muscular chest in a way that makes my mouth go dry. And somewhere else, not so dry.

Focus, Cassidy.

"I finished the measurements for the mantelpiece. I'll have to make a supply run to Weyland’s Lumber for the material. They have the best lumber over there, but the drive will cost me a day's work. It’ll be worth it in the end. I’m thinking either oak or hickory, but I’ll take a look at their walnut as well. "

I smile, trying to ignore how the sight of him makes my belly quiver. I thought seeing him every day would make me less flustered with time, but the reverse is true. The man has me feeling all kinds of silly and my late-night fantasy sessions can attest to it.

Now my cheeks are burning and he frowns, because of course, he doesn't know I’m a total creep who keeps picturing him in my dreams. Keeps picturing those tusks rubbing inside my thighs.

Jeez, down girl.

Then Gerralt mercifully ends the awkward staring contest and looks around the finished kitchen with what I can only assume is his approving scowl. He has many of types of scowls.

He crosses his arms, amber eyes scanning the room.

"Looks decent enough."

"Decent enough? Are you kidding?" I gesture at our handiwork, pretending to be scandalized. "This is gorgeous. This is artwork. "

He grunts, but I catch the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. From him, that's practically a standing ovation.

His hand goes to the back of his neck, and he shifts his weight.

"I have something for you."

"Oh? For me?" My heart does a little flip-flop in my chest and I resist the urge to giggle while wrapping my hair around my fingers. Every time this man talks to me, I feel like a teenager getting asked to prom.

He disappears for a moment, returning with what looks like a small wooden house cradled in his massive arms. The natural grain gleams under a light finish, and I spot a carefully crafted, hinged roof.

"What is that?" My voice trails off as he sets it on the back porch.

“That’s for your stray problem,” he answers and I have the distinct feeling he’s avoiding my gaze as he opens up the roof. “So you can get her to come inside.”

For a good, long moment, I’m utterly speechless.

“You built a cat house for Marigold?”

"Gran said strays do better with a spot of their own."

He brings out a collection of supplies from the wooden box and gestures to them. There’s at least half a dozen different types of canned cat food, a can of sardines, and one of tuna. I blink, baffled.

Then I’m ready to melt on the spot as I understand what he's saying.

"Put one of your old blankets or t-shirts inside so it'll smell like you." Gerralt continues like I'm not just standing there, mute and dumbstruck. "The cat will take to you faster if she's accustomed to your smell."

When he finally straightens, he gives me a little shrug. And does he look shy? Does that huge, grumpy, grumbly orc and official mascot of the NOT-SO-SOFT man club look shy while giving me instructions on how to save a stray cat? My insides dissolve into some gooey, swoony mess.

"Gran is something of a legend in town for rescuing strays," he says in a matter-of-fact tone. "She says you'll get her to trust you in no time if you do this."

My heart does a funny little flutter and I realize he's staring at me while I keep silent.

"You told your grandmother about me?"

“It’s almost November.” He shrugs once more and do I see the tip of his ears turn a darker shade of green? "Can't have the damned thing freezing to death out here. Or get eaten by a coyote."

“That is quite literally the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” I tell him, my voice squeaky from the emotions that threaten to spill out into my eyes.

"It's just a cat house," he grumbles, but his voice has gone soft.

But it's not. It's so much more than just a cat house. It's the way this grumbling mountain of a man noticed something I really cared about and went out of his way to help me.

Again. And without so much as demanding a Thank you in response.

We just stand there on my back porch, the golden rays of the later afternoon casting a magical glow all around us. He’s close to me, closer than he’s been since he taught me how to paint.

He looks down at me, amber eyes suddenly flaming, and I can’t move. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to.

His gaze shifts to my lips, and he swallows, hard. I follow the movement of his Adam’s apple as it goes up and down and it stirs something in my lower belly. Heats rises in my body, pooling right between my legs as Gerralt just stares at me.

He stares at me like I’m some particularly appetizing threat. Like he’s controlling himself not to eat me alive. And I’m all for some good gobbling. With his tusks and those hard, fleshy lips. Just thinking about those on my skin has my breathing accelerate to a fast and shallow rhythm.

But as smoldering as his gaze is, he’s not moving. It’s like he’s frozen in place, encased in ice from the outside, molten lava on the inside.

That big grump is never going to make the first move.

Neither would the old Cassidy. The old Cassidy would have been waiting forever, drowning in her own insecurities. But the new Cassidy? The new Cassidy doesn’t drown anymore.

And she doesn’t have to wait, either.

I watch in fascination as my hand reaches up, then flattens on his chest. My heart flutters with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension as my head swims with the boldness of what I’m about to do.

I can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, under my fingertips as I let my hand wander across his broad chest. His muscles are firm, sculpted, and the sheer power radiating from him is intoxicating.

My breath comes in quick, shallow gasps, my body responding to his proximity in a way that's impossible to ignore.

My nipples tighten, pressing against the fabric of my shirt, and I can feel a damp warmth gathering between my legs.

This is something I’ve never done before. Taking a risk, making the first move, putting myself out there like this. But it’s something I want the new Cassidy to be able to do. I want the new Cassidy not to be shy, not to be scared. And I’ll fake it till I make it .

He keeps staring as my fingers spread on the thin cotton of his shirt while my other hand reaches to cup his cheek.

His skin is warm and rough under my touch, and his breath hitches slightly, a small reaction that sends a thrill through me.

I feel a surge of boldness, mixing with the already intoxicating arousal that flows through my veins like a drug.

He smells so good this close, masculine and clean, like pine needles and leather.

It goes to my head and makes me dizzy. A low growl starts deep in his chest, right there underneath my palm, a small, barely perceptible reaction that sends a thrill coursing through me.

I feel alive, powerful, and incredibly turned on.

Every fiber of my being vibrates with anticipation as I run my finger along his stubbly jaw, then reach for those tusks I’ve dreamed about touching. He shudders, the growl in his chest deepening to a constant rumble, and I get the distinct impression that he’s barely holding on to himself.

That he’s about to break and let go, consequences be damned. And I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than to be ravished by this huge, raw, and powerful orc.

But still, he doesn’t move. His hands are fisted at his sides as he just breathes and smolders there, watching me like a creature made of lava and control. Some incomprehensible contradiction that I wish he would explain to me.

Then I do something even bolder. Something that would send the old Cassidy running into a corner in shame.

I press my hips to him, rocking against the sensation of the largest erection I’ve ever felt. Heat floods between my legs, wet and imperious .

I should be afraid, but I’m too far gone.

I crave this. I crave him. Every inch of my body yearns for his touch, his taste, his scent. I'm emboldened, driven by a primal need that drowns out any lingering doubts or fears.

"Cassidy," he finally says, my name like a warning and a plea all rolled into one. His voice is low and gravelly, a rumble that seems to resonate deep within his chest. And all the way to the place where our bodies touch, pressed against each other.

I finally do it.

I push up on my toes, both my hands going around his neck as I lean into him, and I press my lips to his.

For a terrifying moment, Gerralt just stands there as I kiss him and I’m ready to pull away and melt in a puddle of apology and shame for kissing him without his consent.

Then it’s like a dam breaks, and he’s everywhere, all at once.

His hands close around my body, one large palm covering my ass, pressing me deeper against his massive erection as the other one grips the back of my neck.

His lips press against mine, firm and demanding, and the feel of his tusks against my face sends a shiver down my spine, electrifying my entire body.

His lips part and his tongue darts between them, hot and wet.

I open my own lips eagerly and he doesn’t make me wait.

His taste invades my mouth, clean and intoxicating as his tongue explores every inch of my mouth.

He’s not kissing me. He’s taking possession of me.

My body responds instantly, nipples hardening to pebbles against his chest, and that warmth between my legs drenches my panties. His touch is electric, igniting a primal hunger within me that demands satisfaction.

I can feel every inch of him, his erection hard and demanding against my belly, and I know I should be afraid of it, but his size only makes me more aroused. My heart races, my breath hitches, and I'm lost in the sensation, lost in fantasies of him claiming me, fucking me right here, right now.

I imagine his large green cock thrusting deep inside me, filling me completely, and a moan escapes my lips.

My hands roam over his chest, gripping his shirt, pulling him closer.

I can't get enough. I want more. I want to feel his bare skin against mine, his cock buried deep inside me.

I want him to make me scream his name. I'm losing control, drowning in a sea of desire, and I never want it to end.

His fingers dig into my flesh, holding me in place as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring every corner of my mouth, claiming me with each stroke. My core throbs with need, aching for him. The intensity of my arousal is overwhelming, every nerve ending alight with desire.

Just when I think I’m going to pass out, Gerralt’s mouth leaves mine as he breaks the kiss.

He doesn’t waste any time, though, and his mouth closes down my neck, his tongue licking and his teeth brushing the delicate skin, igniting a fiery trail of desire wherever they touch.

I gasp, my head tilting back, granting him better access.

His tusk grazes my skin just like I’ve dreamed about countless times, and I shiver in delight.

I want him to mark me, to claim me, to make me his in every way possible.

His hand slides up my thigh, lifting my skirt, and I can feel his fingers tracing the edge of my panties. Another wave of boldness overtakes me and I reach down, fumbling with his belt. Just as I untie it, he stops me, his hand covering mine, his grip firm but gentle.

The next moment, he pulls away, breaking the contact.

His breath is ragged, his eyes wild as he still hovers above me with his regal height and size.

He looks at me for a long moment, his face a landscape of warring emotions.

Then, without a word, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, dizzy and breathless, my body aching for more.

I touch my fingers to my lips, my gaze vague, looking in the direction he left long after he disappears. That was, without a doubt, the best kiss of my entire life. As I hear his truck speed down the driveway, I can't help but wonder what the hell just happened.

And when it's going to happen again.

Ad If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.