Page 35 of Rio (Knight Empire #3)

RAQUEL

I stand in the pitch-black darkness, listening to the wind howling, rattling the flimsy little hut that is all that stands between me and the wildness outside. The clattering roof is a constant reminder of the fragility of my refuge.

Rio ran out into that storm to get the supply bag Alma gave him. For me. He put his life at risk. For me. He cares. He’s nothing like his father. We bicker and flirt each time we’re together, and yet there’s a hum, a spark, a zap of electricity zinging between us.

I move to the hole in the wall that doubles as a window, and lift a rusted shutter slat. The trees are hunched over, swaying like they might snap any moment. I’m suddenly fearful for Rio, that he could get blown away out there.

What was he thinking?

He was thinking of me.

Were it not for him, I’d be trapped in here, in the dark, all night, living in fear that the hut could collapse on me at any time, or that I could be struck by lightning. It could still happen.

“Rio,” I murmur, feeling at a loss. Feeling hopeless, feeling scared. It would kill me if something happened to him. I begin to fret. What if he gets swept up by the wind? What if a falling tree hits him on the head?

I can’t just stand here. But I can’t go out either.

I don’t even know where his Jeep is. I don’t know in which direction he went, and it’s so dark, it would be fatal.

He had a flashlight. I have nothing. But I feel useless standing here doing nothing, while he’s battling the elements and is in danger.

I can’t let him die because of me.

I told you he was a good man, Raquel.

Daniela’s voice is in my head. I suddenly miss her, and long to be with her, having another catchup over cocktails and a spa treatment. Daniela said Rio was nice. That the Knights aren’t as bad as I think they are. That the boys aren’t like their father. Maybe I should heed her words.

I move to the door. He’s been gone too long, and I can’t stand around waiting. I nudge the door open a little and immediately get shoved back by a vicious gust of wind. For a second I can barely move. I try again, taking a step forward, only to walk into him.

“What are you doing?” he yells, pushing me back inside, slamming the door shut.

“I was worried about you!” I yell right back. He shines the light towards me, not directly at my face, but close enough to give us light.

“You were concerned for me? ” The corners of his lips turn up in that smug, sardonic way that is so uniquely him.

“You were gone for so long!” I can’t help myself, relief floods me and I throw my arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m back now, princesa.” He sets the bag down and puts his arms around me. “You okay? Or do I need to check for signs of amnesia? This isn’t like you.”

Typical.

I move away and we peer at one another. Something has shifted in the time he left and now. I’m still wary, but less suspicious of him.

“Shine this on me so I can see.” He hands me the flashlight which I spotlight on him, then watch as he pulls out a lamp from the supplies bag.

“You had the foresight to bring that?” I’m impressed.

“I didn’t. Thank your boss.”

“Alma is a legend.”

He starts taking things out of the bag and setting it on top of the crates.

“This is going to save us,” he says, rubbing the dirt off his hands.

There’s a rolled-up poncho, a tightly wrapped up emergency blanket, a tin of sardines, a pocket knife, a ziplock bag of matches.

A small med kit, a packet of dried mango slices, and three bottles of water.

“That should keep us going for a day,” he announces.

“All thanks to Alma,” I say proudly. “She knows this land like the back of her hand. She doesn’t take any chances.”

“Just as well that I ran into her.” He opens a bottle of water and hands it to me, before taking one for himself. After guzzling a third of it, he sets it back down, alongside my empty one. I look up at him guiltily. “I should have made that last, huh?”

“You were seriously going to go out there looking for me?” he asks.

I wipe my mouth. “You were gone forever.”

“I was gone for …” He glances at his watch. “For fifteen minutes. The Jeep is parked nearby.”

“It felt like forever.”

“What did you think I was going to do? Vanish into the sea?”

“I don’t know. I thought you might be dead.”

He smiles, leans back, assessing me as if I’m someone he doesn’t recognize. “You were worried about me?”

“Don’t push it.”

He takes a step towards me, and I inch back. He raises an eyebrow. Challenging, daring, then takes another step. I inch back further until my back is against the tinny wall. It’s rough surface grazes my heated skin.

“What did you think would happen to me, princesa?” he whispers.

“I-I don’t know.”

We’re so close now, I feel his breath on my lips.

He brackets the wall on either side of me with his hands, caging me in.

I’m worried that his strength and weight might cause the flimsy structure to collapse, but that thought instantly vanishes.

He’s all I see. All I sense. And he smells like storm, and heat and adrenaline.

My heart begins to pound and an ache spreads low in my belly.

Whatever fears I had being stuck in here, disappear, as heat rolls off his body, heating mine. His hair’s plastered to his forehead and he’s drenched again, water running down his skin. All I can think about is licking up every single drop.

“But you were worried?” He doesn’t let this go.

“Yes.”

He leans in, our lips brushing. “Good,” he murmurs. “Now we’re even.”

My chest heaves and heat pools between my damp panties. His hand brushes my skin, his fingers resting along my jaw, as his thumb traces around my lips. He looks at me like he’s daring me to push him away.

But I don’t.

I won’t.

I can’t.

His eyes burn into me, causing my body to combust under his touch. His hand slides gently onto my shoulder, then slowly trails to my waist. My back arches with anticipation, with yearning, with memory.

“Raquel.” His hands cup my face and soon his lips are on mine, a fevered collision. Our mouths claiming, bruising, wild and hungry, as unrelenting and as inevitable, as the storm outside.

Our tongues duel for dominance, and our kiss deepens, turning urgent, hot and frenzied, like we only have a few seconds.

He devours my mouth, tilting my face up, angling his head to deepen the kiss, like he’s drinking from me.

I melt into him, pressing my body against him, feeling pressure building low in my belly.

The hut fills with the sounds of harsh breathing and my soft mewls as I kiss him back, greedy for more, my fingers running up the bare skin of his chest.

“You went out shirtless,” I breathe against his mouth.

“Should I have worn a tux?”

There’s a pause. Then he pulls away, moves the lamp to the edge of the table, so that more of the light falls onto me.

The soft glow fills the hut, flickering against the scratched up walls.

I look at him—really look at him. His chest is bare, soaked, perfect.

Drops of rain still slide down the ridges of muscle like water over carved stone.

His eyes drop to my tank top. His voice is low.

“I’ve made you wet again.”

“I’ve been wet a long time.”

Before I can say anything, we’re kissing again. Harder. Hotter. Desperate with need. Hands everywhere. His hard body presses against me, but I feel something harder poking at my stomach.

“You like this, huh, princesa?” His hand cups my breast gently. In answer, I suck his tongue, grinding against him, every inch of me screaming for his touch. I’m greedy and needy, and desperate for more.

***

RIO

I’m hard as steel, and when Raquel grinds against me, I have to fight not to lose it.

This woman tests my restraint, and it takes all of me to resist her. I kiss her hard, fucking her mouth with my tongue, trying to eke out my pleasure, and taking what I can without going too far.

Raquel isn’t a wallflower. She takes, consumes, gets her satisfaction, and I’m more than happy to let her.

The air between us crackles, not just because of the heat between us, but because of the friction that comes from unspoken words.

“Touch me,” she begs, splaying her hands against my chest.

I tilt my head, wondering exactly where and how she wants me to do that. I have no problem obliging, but I don’t want to mess anything up, assume too much, especially when my cock is driving this, not so much my brain.

Her hands glide slowly all over me, from my pecs, my shoulders, my biceps, down my abs, like she’s trying to memorize every inch.

I can’t wait for her to get familiar with every part of me, just like I dream about doing the same with her.

Every inch, every crevice, every dip, every nook, every fold.

“Wait.” Miraculously, I have enough clarity of mind to think about comfort.

There’s nowhere to sit. There’s only one chair.

Another one that’s broken. There’s no bed, or anywhere to lie down.

Just a wooden slat that looks like a low hanging shelf.

I take the heap of newspapers from the corner and tile a patch on the floor, then spread the emergency blanket over them.

I spread the thin poncho over that, trying to make a comfy area.

I move the lamp higher, onto the table where it no longer spotlights the dirt and mess, but shines on Raquel, on her long hair, cascading over her in waves, and her big brown eyes which stare back at me.

“Let’s sit,” I suggest. We do, fumbling for space on the little safe area I’ve created, but it’s uncomfortable. She adjusts her position, trying different variations.

She groans. “I can’t get comfortable.