Page 13 of Rio (Knight Empire #3)

I relax back against my chair. “You’re being rather strict on me, and we’re not even a couple yet. Afraid I’ll out on weight, or is it diabetes you’re trying to save me from?” I flash her another one of my charming smiles I know she hates.

“You can overdose on all the sugar you want.”

Ouch. She really is mad at me. Still, I don’t want to waste this opportunity. “I came here to talk, princesa. To get the conversation going. I didn’t take you for a coward, so why are you running away?”

Eyes blazing she glares at me. “I’m not scared of you, Knight. I’m being sensible.”

“Tell me you don’t think about that night.”

Her eyes flash. I see something wild and defiant, like she’s daring me to see exactly what she’s thinking.

“I waited for you,” I remind her. “You told me to. You had work to do, but even though I offered to leave, you told me to stay.”

“I took pity on you,” she snaps.

I lean forward more and touch her arm. Her skin is warm, and prickly now. Every touch, every look, every whisper, it affects us both. Not only me.

“So much pity that you asked me in and then suggested a game of strip poker.” I grab my drink from the server.

“It seemed like the polite thing to do, after all, you left your brother’s wedding reception to walk me back.”

“There’s nothing polite about playing strip poker.”

She shifts in her seat.

“Don’t deny that you feel something for me, princesa.”

“You should forget that night ever happened.”

“Hard to forget when you vanish without saying goodbye.”

“I thought my silence would speak volumes.”

“It did,” I say softly. “But I still kept listening, waiting for you to break.”

“Break?”

“From your stubbornness, and give in.”

She looks away, jaw clenched. I take in the gold earrings, the neckline of her dress, the thick black satin line extenuating her eyes. But still my gaze goes to her lips. Red, thick and plump, I want to ravage that mouth.

She’s furious, and still so beautiful even when her face twists with anger. “Let’s go outside,” I suggest. She hesitates, but seems to be thinking about it. “You can shout at me out there. You can even slap me, if it’ll make you feel better.”

A smile tugs at her lips. “You give me permission to do that?”

“Princesa, I give you permission to do whatever you want to me.”

She doesn’t speak for a few seconds, and I can almost hear the hum of whatever’s sparking between us. If the thoughts going through her head are anything like mine, I bet she’s already molten heat between her thighs.

Raquel and I are fire on fire.

No retreat, no surrender, just heat building until something explodes.

“I’d want to know why you’d want to slap me,” I say, all cocky charm, trying to coax a smile from her. But it’s not forthcoming.

“You gave me permission. There doesn’t have to have a reason.”

I push my luck, say what’s on my mind, give her honesty. “I think of your panties dangling on your fingers.”

“I never did find them.”

I can’t contain my grin. “That’s because I have them.”

She blinks, her thick and curly lashes framing her eyelids perfectly.

Her pupils grow larger until the deep brown of her irises is just a mere ring around them.

I love that she’s trying to make sense of what I just said.

That she’s trying so hard to not be shocked. I wonder if she’s secretly thrilled.

“I kept them. I’ve used those panties, and kept them, unwashed, in my drawers. They have your scent on them.”

“You kept them for what?”

I cock my head. She’s even sexier when she plays naive. “With them wrapped around my hand, I’ve fisted myself more times than I can count.”

She lets out a gasp. It’s a sexy little rasp. The kind of rasp I imagine she lets out when she’s coming down from an orgasm. What I wouldn’t give to find out for sure.

“Tell me you don’t think about that night?” I whisper close to her ear. I’m pushing, but I know this woman. I know what she’ll take, and what she won’t.

“It’s getting hot in here.” She flaps a napkin near her face. She’s heating, my princesa, and I have no doubt that she’s hot and wet, for me.

“Let’s get some fresh air,” I suggest, and this time she gets up. We walk outside, along the restaurant’s side terrace, along a cobblestone path studded with lights and weaving around a lush garden.

The oppressive heat clings to me like Saran wrap, and I immediately feel oppressed by the weight of it. But Raquel? She seems to handle it. She’s looks as cool as a cucumber, even if there’s a dewy sheen over her skin which suggests otherwise.

“Why are you here, Knight?” She folds her arms and leans back against the wall, surveying me.

All I want to do is put my mouth to hers and claim her.

Then I want to take her back to my hotel room, and see where the night will lead us.

But neither of these things are happening.

It’s not why I’m here, but the idea fixes in my head and refuses to leave, probably because my cock is getting harder by the minute.

“I wanted to talk to you. I woke up and you were gone. Vanished into the night.”

“I had an early morning flight back to Miami. I was working a case.”

“You told me to wait up. I did.”

Silence falls thick and heavy. I place a hand on the wall above her head, moving into her space. She can push me away if she wants, but she doesn’t.

“It was a mistake to let you in.”

“Into your heart, or into your room?” I’m not letting her wriggle out of this.

She makes a disapproving noise with her lips. “You wish.”

I’m not giving up. “We spent a night together, playing a game where we have to remove items of clothing, and then you had me waiting for you in your bed. And now you expect me to believe that it was a mistake. ”

“I was working.”

“I was ready to leave. Do the gentlemanly thing, but you told me to stay.”

“You were wearing boxers.”

“That’s a poor argument, and you know it.”

She folds her arms even more tightly. I lower my head, can see her guardrails softening.

I whisper into her ear. “You liked what you saw of me in my boxers.” I inhale her scent.

It’s not strong, or sweet, not soft or flowery.

It’s sharp, like spice paired with heat.

I want to tickle her earlobe with my tongue, drop tiny kisses along her neck, make my way to her lips and kiss her deeply.

She lets out a sound, and I can’t decipher it. But it wasn’t a denial. “You and I have so much in common. I find you intriguing, the most interesting woman I’ve ever met. Tell me you don’t want me, princesa.”

She exhales slowly, her chest rising and falling, like she’s trying to get control of her breathing.

“You can’t say it, can you?” I feel like I’ve done an interrogation of my own, and won the case.

She stares at me through thick lashes. “You think you’re untouchable, and invincible. That the world should just bend to please you. People like you always want more than you’re willing to give.”

“Try me,” I urge. Our faces are inches apart.

“I’ve been burned by your kind before.”

“I’m not your past.”

“No,” she snaps. “But unlike Dani, I’m not willing to pay the price to find out.”

My hand fists in my pocket.

“I think you want me, Raquel, because I sure as hell want you. I can’t stop thinking about you and …” I pause, because I’ve said way too much.

“You want me?” she asks, the tease that she is.

“Damn right. I want you to let me in. I want you to give me the chance to get to know you, and if you don’t want that, tell me to give up.”

She looks at me, but her gaze falls to my lips.

She wants me.

She absolutely does.

“You can’t, can you?” Wild courage boosts my confidence. “You want me,” I whisper in her ear. She shivers, and I feel it.

“Then that’s your mistake.” She tilts her face up, her eyes falling to my lips.

All I see are her red lips, the lips I yearn for.

And just like that, we’re kissing, falling into one another, bodies flush.

She mewls and moans against my mouth, her hands tangling in my hair.

Our kisses are hot and feverish, a letting go of all the frustration of everything we held back.

Finally, we break apart, gasping for air. Her lips are moist, her eyes shiny. “You do want me,” I rasp.

“I wanted to prove that I don’t. And I just did.”

Her flawed logic makes no sense. I peer at her in disbelief.

Her lipstick is a little smudged, on one corner.

Not enough. But her hair is wild, pupils large, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

She might say she doesn’t want me, but the evidence suggests otherwise.

Still, I’m shocked by her words, shocked that even now she’s pushing me away when all I can think about is kissing her some more.

She steps back. “This can’t happen. I won’t let it.” And just like that, she walks back inside. I stay behind, staring out at the Miami skyline, chest tight, hands itching to reach for her.

I think back to our earlier conversation, about where she grew up and how she’d sit in the corner while her mother helped out at the legal clinic at the favela, listening to stories of people being destroyed by the system.

That would be enough to make her wary of a man like me.

I scare her. The Knight world scares her.

She fights people like us in court, and it frightens her to want me.

But she can’t deny the passion between us.

The longing. The heat. Maybe she knows how good we can be together.

Whatever it is, I can’t push or pressure her.

She has to come to terms with everything herself. She has to come to me on her own terms.

Enemies, then. If that’s what she needs. That’s what it will be. This time, it’s best if I walk away, because it’s over before it’s really begun.