Chapter 35 #2
His dark eyes are steady on mine. Now that we’re alone, now that no one can hear, he’s going to ask.
“Why didn’t you tell me what you were thinking of doing when we first talked about you going back?”
"I didn’t know what I was going to do at the time, not really. When I left, all I could think about was shaking Vance." I gasp. "Shit. Did he ever make it back here?"
Rio shrugs. “He's a grown man. I'm sure he sorted it out."
I slap a hand over my mouth. “Seriously though?"
He runs his fingers along my arm. “Yeah. He's back."
My shoulders relax. "On the way up to Sacramento, I knew I wanted to burn the folder. I knew where it was from when I found it before I first met you."
My God, that feels like a lifetime ago.
It's hard to even imagine Rio as the guy I assumed he was back then, not when I know his goodness, his fierce spirit, who he truly is.
"I clocked the fireplace in Luther's office the last time I was there. I knew if I could get in while he was out, I could burn it. That’s why I couldn’t wait to talk to you.
I had to get up there when I knew he would be out of the house.
I wanted that folder gone, and the rest was– maybe I was out of my mind having my dad do that. I don’t know.”
Though now my feelings around it are confusing, at the time, when the clock was ticking, it was the only way out.
"You knew?” he asked, clearly having tried to figure it out himself, but he’s perplexed. "You knew Marcus would shoot Luther? How?”
"I hoped," I say. "But I did spend nearly that whole drive thinking of the exact words that would make it happen."
“So you told him you were at Luther’s?”
I nod. “Yeah. And I texted him this.”
I pick up my cell from the coffee table and show him what I sent.
Luther’s holding me captive. He doesn't want an alliance. He’s planning on taking it all.
There were two things I figured my dad would kill Luther for. One would be stealing his property, namely me. And two, far worse than holding me as a prisoner, my dad would kill anyone trying to take his throne.
Being present in some of the alliance meetings, it was clear my father was hesitant to ally with Black Ridge, even to expand his kingdom. Marcus Cross doesn’t trust easily, which is why a simple agreement wasn’t enough for him to share his networks with Luther.
Dad could have shaken hands with Luther and allowed the alliance to operate under the same veiled threats he maintains in every other partnership he has.
But the rivalry was too deep. Ray fought long and hard to deny Iron Covenant access to their territory.
The sudden shift in priorities with their new president, who happened to be the son of his mortal enemy, was suspicious.
Lucrative enough to explore, yes, but highly suspicious.
If my father needed Luther to be connected to Iron Covenant through marriage, it was clear he didn’t trust the man.
I played on that.
And I’m sure as my dad rode to Luther’s, he even justified that killing Luther still got him everything he wanted anyway. Luther didn’t have the loyalty Ray did.
Rio reads the text. His jaw is tight when he looks up. "You need to delete that." He throws me a serious look from under his eyebrows. “And you’ll have to have that story straight. You weren’t captive for long, given there are a lot of eyewitnesses here at the ranch.”
“I had hours to refine three sentences, Rio. It’s exactly why I didn’t mention a timeline.”
"You could have gotten yourself killed," he hands me back my cell.
"I know," I stop him from whatever else he’s going to say. "But I couldn't let them win.”
He looks at me for a long moment with an expression a lot like awe.
“Do you know how brave you are?”
The question lands somewhere deep and my eyes fill before I can stop them.
"You cared for a mother who abused you," he says. "You lived in a world of men who wanted to use you. You survived even my suspicion." He threads his fingers through my hair, his gaze dropping to my mouth. "And then you took down an empire with one single match."
I don't have words for what that does to me. And he doesn’t stop there.
“I love you, Delilah. I love every damn part of you.”
A tear escapes and I close the distance to kiss him.
He kisses me back so deeply the ground shifts — the way it's been shifting since the day I walked into his office and couldn't quite find it again. His hand comes up to my jaw. I flatten my palms against his chest and fist his shirt, pulling him closer like he might disappear if I don't hold on.
I press my whole body into him and think — mine.
As if reading my mind, he murmurs against my lips.
"Come to bed."
"Whose bed?" I whisper.
"Ours."
He stands and takes my hand, pulls me up with him. We take the stairs fast. I pull my shirt over my head on the way up, unclasp my bra and let it fall somewhere on the landing.
But when I drop onto the bed, his gaze drops to my throat, and he stills. He straddles me and cups my breast.
"I just want to hold you. I don't need any more than that."
I slide my hand down his stomach and cup him through his jeans.
"I think I need more than that."
He exhales against my neck, a warm shiver makes its way through my body. I gently shove him off me, unbutton my jeans and push them to the floor. Then I drop myself backwards onto his bed and look up at him.
"Naked, now,” I demand.
He's slow about it. Maddeningly, deliberately slow — shirt first, then his button, his zipper. Finally, the rest, and he watches me the whole time with that dark, stalking focus that makes it impossible to breathe.
When he’s finally undressed, I drink him in. Every tattoo, every scar, every carefully guarded thing about this man turned out to be the opposite of what I thought. He's not cold. He's not selfish. He loves quietly, and hard, and completely.
And I’m going to do the same for him just as long as he’ll let me.
"Now come here." I curl my finger.
His body presses down on mine, and he settles between my legs, and I can feel it immediately — the carefulness. He's holding his weight off me, propped on his forearms, reading my face for anything that tells him to stop.
I pull him down the rest of the way.
He inches toward me, his hard cock points straight at me, but he hesitates, his fingers trail softly along my jawline as he considers my neck again.
"I'm not broken," I say, grabbing his ass in my hands and pulling him toward me. “And we’re not just cuddling.”
I let myself fall to the mattress and he cages me in. His mouth finds my peaked nipple, and I arch clean off the bed. He heads south but I don't have the patience. I grab his hair and drag him back to me.
"No." I tug his hair lightly. "I just need you inside me."
He doesn't need to be told twice.
He reaches across me, yanks the nightstand drawer open to grab a condom, and takes his thick, long cock in his hand. There’s a bead of cum already on the swollen head, and the thought of him inside me makes me heavy between my legs.
I want him without the condom. I want it bad.
I watch him roll it on, knowing it’s for the best. Then his hands grab my hips and he tugs my ass to the edge of the bed.
He lines his cock up at my entrance, not pushing in yet, letting me feel the blunt insistent heat of him, staring at my pussy and making me wait.
I grab his forearms. "Rio."
“You want this?” He teases. “Say it. Say I want your cock, Rio.”
“You know I do,” I resist, but secretly love the game.
“Say it.”
My pussy aches for him. “I want your cock, Rio.”
He gives it to me.
Every inch. Slow and merciless. My pussy stretches so wide around him it's almost too much, almost, and then he pushes the last of it home and my back bows clean off the bed.
"Okay?" His voice is rough. His eyes say he's close to being unstoppable.
I dig my nails into his forearms. "Don't you dare stop."
His deep, punishing strokes drag filthy sounds out of me — sounds I'd be embarrassed about if I had a single coherent thought left.
My hands fly to my breasts. His grip on my hips is bruising but I want it even harder.
He pulls me onto him with each thrust like he's trying to get deeper than deep, and my elbows give out.
I force them back and sit up. I need to see this.
God.
His jaw is locked. The thick length of him disappears into me, slick and obscene, over and over.
His eyes are fixed on where we're joined, like he can't look away, like the sight of his cock working in and out of me is the only thing that exists.
The muscles in his stomach tighten with every drive forward.
He's completely ruined by this.
By me.
More. I need more. I didn't think it was possible to need someone this badly.
"Harder," I buck up into him. "Rio. More."
I grip the sheets and the thought comes from nowhere —
When did this happen? When did I stop running and start reaching?
He did this to me. This infuriating, controlled, tattooed man.
He picks up the pace, and his thumb finds my clit. I nearly come apart just from that. I'm so swollen, so desperate, the touch is almost too much to stand.
The groan that leaves him is goddamn guttural and hearing him like that shatters me.
My pussy flutters around his now pulsing cock that’s somehow even harder than it was before. He sinks in and out of me with no control, chasing the same rush I feel. The fullness, the ecstasy, is every wound I've ever carried finally leaving me, and he rushes in to fill the space.
Eventually, he slows, but he tenses to savor every last moment of us being connected. His back is slick under my palms. We stay exactly where we are — his weight on me, his face in my neck. Neither of us can stand to be the first to move.
I press my lips to his shoulder.
He tightens his arms around me and rolls to the side. I let my cheek fall to the sheet and look at him.
“Rio?”
“Mmm?”
“I love you, too.”
His smile is handsome and smug. “I know.”
I slap him lightly for his vanity, but I’m glad he’s not diving us into some deep conversation. Our love is so obvious that we don’t need any more declarations. Anyway, I’m exhausted.
He takes off the condom and throws it to the floor. Then turns toward me to gather me against him and into his embrace. For a moment, there’s calm before the storm arrives back in my mind.
But like a dark mist, what Enzo said on the call creeps back into my mind.
I run my finger over his chiseled features, tracing his lips. "Do you think this is really over?"
He ponders it, not rushing to an answer he doesn't mean, which I've grown to adore about him.
"I hope so, Princess," he says finally. "We'll know more tomorrow, but you've done everything you can do. You have to accept that's enough."
I hope like hell it was.