Page 46 of Rio (Knight Empire #3)

RAQUEL

I stretch coming out of the water, staring at the morning sky. I’m still getting used to the idea that this man has a pool all to himself.

What different worlds we live in.

Rio’s inside, making a fruit smoothie. I could get used to this. Not just a weekend break every now and then—this could be all our weekends. There’s a small problem about distance, but I’m getting ahead of myself again and I remind myself to enjoy each moment, and not to dwell on what might be.

Later, we head out for a long walk through Central Park, stopping off for coffee and brunch. It feels exhilarating, but normal, being with him, like this. Holding hands, exploring the city like a tourist, giddy with life and love, and not the highly stressed lawyer that I usually am.

Being with Rio has enabled me to give in, to let down my guard, to become vulnerable, but being vulnerable with Rio feels safe. Later, He rents a rowboat without asking me first. I protest, naturally, as he grins when handing me an oar.

“You want control? Take it.”

“Is this because of Belize? Does this remind you of how I ended up in that hut?”

“Oh, princesa, that was some night, huh?”

“I’ll say.” I remember stripping down, taking my shorts and panties off. I’ll never forget the look on his face. Just like I’ll never forget how we pleasured one another with our mouths.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he says quietly.

“I wanted to get more evidence. I was worried that being up against the Knights, I needed ironclad evidence.”

He’s quiet for a while. “The old man is up to something.”

“Isn’t he always?”

“Let’s not talk about all that stuff, not now, not today, while I have you.”

I nod, smiling, because I agree. We drift across the lake’s shiny surface, the city and crowd fade away. It’s just us, and it’s exciting, and exhilarating, and just perfect. I want all my weekends, all my free time, to be like this.

When we get back, we sink into the sofa, still holding hands like we can’t bear to let go. We’re just … resting. Doing nothing. Saying everything without having to say a word.

After a while, he reads the newspaper, says he has to see what’s going on. Keep abreast of the news. I’m pretending to check emails on my phone, but mostly I’m just watching him. We’re talking, low and easy. About life, art, stupid headlines. Random things.

I sigh loudly, seeing an email from Pierce pop up. He wants to know where I am with the Santos case. It just slips out. “Asshole,” I murmur, not really meaning to say it out loud.

Rio’s head snaps up. “Who?”

“Pierce.”

“Is he still being a prick?” His voice goes hard in an instant.

“He hasn’t changed, but I stood up for myself. I told him I’d report him for harassment and that shut him up.”

Rio puts down his paper, cups my chin gently, forces me to look at him. “You said that to him?”

“I sure did. I was sick of him. Have been ever more disgusted with him since I got back. Something about leaving you in Belize and coming back to that douchebag, made something in me snap.”

“I swear to God, I want to pull that man’s eyeballs out.”

I laugh a little, trying to lighten the mood. “Please don’t commit murder on my behalf. Not yet. I’m biding my time and I don’t plan to stay there for too long.”

“I’m super proud of you for standing up to him, not that you should have to do it. I know you can protect yourself, but just remember that you’re not alone. You have me now.”

I nod, and he kisses me softly.

“I’ve started looking around at other law firms,” I tell him.

“Yeah?”

I nod.

“Would you consider something here ?” He holds my hand, intertwines his fingers in mine, like a lifeline.

Here?

I had. And I did, but hearing him say it, lights me up so that I feel like I’m glowing all over. “Maybe.”

This brings a smile to his lips. I can’t stop thinking how good this feels. How easy. How right. I like this. Us. What we’re doing. The way we’re slowly becoming something more. We walked around the city for hours, and now we’re here. Just existing, together.

“I’m going to make you something,” I say, pushing up from the couch. “Let’s see what you’ve got in that fridge of yours.”

He grins. “Good luck.” But he heads into the kitchen with me, opening drawers, pulling out ingredients, mushrooms, tomatoes and onions, when his phone buzzes.

“Hold on,” he says. “It’s Matteo. He’s FaceTiming me.” He picks up the call.

I listen as he paces a few steps away. I hear another male voice, probably, Enzo, and then a softer older female voice. Their mom. They’re talking in Italian, fast, and furious. Rio’s laughing, and I hear his voice, become softer. I hear “Mama,” and his mother laughing.

He glances at me, and he’s so happy. I see another side to him. I shrink back, knowing I’m a secret, something he has to hide, for now. This little family unit, is touching, especially now that I know the tragic story behind it.

“Ciao, Mama.”

I lean against the counter, arms bent behind me, listening to them all say their goodbyes. He’s beaming as he walks towards me.

“Everything okay?” I ask. “I couldn’t understand what you were saying, but it was sweet, the way you talked to your mom. Your voice went all soft and gooey.”

“Soft and gooey?” His arms wrap around me.

“You were so sweet.”

“My mom is amazing.” His eyes shine. There’s something endearing, about a grown man, someone like Rio, who loves his mother. He lifts a hand to my hair, runs his thumb across my brow, looking at me like I’m something precious. “So are you. I think she would love to meet you.”

He’s talking about me meeting his mom. Before I can start thinking about how my mom would like him, he grabs my face and kisses me again, hard and hungry.

In an instant, the kiss ignites something explosive.

All the tension, the denial and hurt, it combusts into heat.

I grab his shirt, pulling him to me, gasping when his mouth claims mine with a desperation that borders on savage.

We go from kissing to hands exploring everywhere.

Tugging, gripping, exploring. He’s already hard again, pressing against me like he wants to take me now.

Like he can’t hold back. The thought makes heat pulse through me.

I’m so slick for him. I wish he would take me here.

Take me now. He spins me around, his breath hot against my neck.

He pushes up the hem of my dress. His fingers hook into the waistband of my leggings before yanking them down in one quick, eager motion, along with my panties.

He leaves them rolled down around my ankles, so it feels like my legs are shackled together.

The cold air cools my skin, and I bend over, elbows on the countertop, moving the vegetables away.

“Aren’t we supposed to be cooking?” I ask, breathless, as his hands slide over my naked cheeks with gentle appreciation.

“The food can wait.” His voice is thick with need, and I know what he wants. When he gently bends me over the countertop, so that my breasts are pressed against smooth surface, I wait with eager anticipation. Hearing the familiar rip of the foil packet makes my pussy throb with need.

“Ready, princesa?” he rasps.

“Alwa—”

He doesn’t wait, but thrusts in rough and hard, filling me completely. I moan at the delicious friction. At how completely he fills me. He’s been holding back all day and my heart swells with each beautiful hard thrust. He’s everything I want, everything I need.

“Princesa …” he moans. My pleasure builds with each thrust, and I steady myself each time he slams into me, then push back, when he’s buried to the hilt.

I try to extract every ounce of pleasure from him, just like he’s taking from me.

It’s fast and furious, nothing soft and slow about the way we’re rutting.

He sets up a rhythm, and the pleasure builds and builds.

I’m so near to coming, I feel like I’m going to combust. And then his fingers find my clit, and that does it.

A final few thrusts, and I cry out in pleasure, my legs buckling.

I grip the corners of the countertop, riding out the waves as he stills inside me.

I feel my pussy contract around his length, hear his raspy growls as he empties.

I go limp, my head falling onto the countertop.

His face rests gently on my shoulder, his lean arms coming down on either side of me to support his weight.

He rests for a few moments, gently leaning over me.

Then he pulls out slowly, kissing my back, and pulling my dress down before helping me to straighten up.

I turn around, to find him walking away.

Taking care of the condom, probably. He reappears a few seconds later, eyes twinkling with mischief as he watches me roll up my panties and pantyhose.

“Want some help, princesa?”

I want his hands on me all the time. “We won’t get any cooking done, if I accept your help,” I tell him, marveling at this handsome creature who is all I ever think of now.

His arms slide around my waist and we kiss again, his tongue sweeping into my mouth and making me melt.

“I want to shower first.” I’m still breathless as we pull apart. I can see us spending the rest of the evening like this, and all night, and tomorrow. But I will be sore, and we will be starving. “We can start cooking after that.”

His tightens his hold around me. “So practical, princesa. How about we fill the tub up and see how things go?”

I look up at him, marveling at his stamina. “You have the energy?”

“For you, always.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “We could take some wine and glasses in there?”

Before I can answer, he pulls out a bottle of red wine from the wine rack.

“Someone’s in a hurry.” I smooth down my hair, watching him get out two wine glasses out which he sets by the wine bottle. He taps his fingers on the countertop, watching me with amusement. “I’m not fully sated yet. That just now, that was only an appetizer.”