The truth of that hit me like exhaustion. Bone-deep. I slid down onto the edge of the bed because my legs stopped pretending to hold me.
Rios crouched in front of me, bringing himself level with where I sat perched on the edge of the bed. He didn’t touch me yet, waiting instead with his hands pressed to the mattress on either side of my thighs, creating a cage of care I didn’t know what to do with. The heat of him radiated toward me, but he held himself back, giving me space even as he invaded it. “I’m sorry for not seeing it sooner.”
I frowned, confusion warring with the exhaustion that weighed down my limbs. “Seeing what?”
“All of it. Why you don’t rest. Why you don’t ask for help. Why you think you have to be perfect to earn space.” His voice was low, steady, each word deliberate. “Why you’ve spent your whole life trying to prove you deserve to exist.”
My throat closed, the air suddenly too thick to draw into my lungs.
He exhaled slowly, the sound carrying a weight of regret. “I should’ve figured it out earlier. I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
That apology—quiet, unqualified, asking nothing in return—hit somewhere deep and tender, a place I’d armored over so thoroughly I’d forgotten it existed.
I pressed my lips together, fighting the urge to deflect. To joke. To minimize what he was offering me. “I didn’t ask you to?—”
“I know. You shouldn’t have to.”
Something gave way then. Not dramatically. Not with tears or broken confessions. Just enough that my shoulders sagged and my eyes burned with the pressure of emotion I’d been holding back for what felt like years. Was this truly what it meant to be one of his people? To have someone see the wounds you’d hidden and tend them without being asked?
Rios rose from his crouch and settled beside me on the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip. He pulled me into his chest with a gentleness that undid something else inside me. I didn’t stiffen this time, didn’t brace against the contact. I went willingly, forehead pressing into the solid warmth of his shoulder as his arms came around me like they’d always known exactly where to go, how to hold me together when I was threatening to come apart.
No one had ever stood between me and my father before. No one had ever believed I was worth the conflict, worth the risk of his displeasure. But Rios had done it without hesitation, had put himself in the line of fire as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I breathed him in—salt and soap and something indefinably solid, something that spoke of safety—and let myself stay there, let myself lean into the strength he offered so freely. I could rest, just for a moment. Just long enough to remember what it felt like.
Then he murmured, “I’ve got you,” his voice rumbling through his chest and into my bones, and the last shred of my resistance faded like morning mist under the sun.
How was I supposed to stand against this man who’d had every reason in the world to hate me and instead seemed to be the only one who truly understood me? Who saw past all my carefully constructed defenses to the scared, exhausted woman underneath?
Lifting my head, I cupped his cheek, feeling the scrape of stubble against my palm, as I searched those deep, dark eyes that saw far too much. That had always seen too much, even back when we were younger and I’d been so determined to look anywhere but at him.
I was the one who closed the distance, brushing my mouth to his in a kiss that started soft, tentative. I’d intended it as a way to express my gratitude, because words were failing me just now, tangling on my tongue before I could shape them into anything coherent. Instead, just as had happened at the clinic, we ignited at the touch, the spark catching and blazing into something neither of us seemed capable of controlling. His arms tightened around me, and I pulled him closer, threading my fingers into the thick silk of his hair. A faint shudder ran through his body as I licked the seam of his lips, as if he was using every shred of his formidable control to hold himself back, to keep from consuming me whole.
Sexy, noble man.
To clarify my position on that particular issue, I shifted, swinging one leg over his thighs and settling myself in his lap, where I got ready confirmation that he wasn’t immune to this heat sparking and crackling between us. The hard length of him pressed against my core, and a bolt of pure need shot through me. Pausing, I pulled back just long enough to take his face between my hands. “Rios.”
His gaze burned into mine, pupils blown wide with desire even as concern flickered at the edges. “We don’t have to?—”
“I know.”
“You’ve been through a terrible shock.” His voice was rough, strained with the effort of doing the right thing even when his body was clearly voting for a different course of action.
Impossibly, the corner of my mouth twitched upward. “I’m thinking perfectly clearly right now.” To emphasize the point, I rocked my hips against him, grinding down in a slow, deliberate motion that had his eyes nearly rolling back in his head.
Those eyes dropped to half-mast, heavy-lidded and dark with want, and his hands grabbed my hips, seeming torn between pressing me closer and unseating me entirely. “Are you sure about this, Counselor?”
I gave him the only truth I could. “You’re the only thing in my life that makes any sense at all right now.”
Rios surged up with a speed and strength that stole my breath, and my arms and legs automatically tightened around him in response. Not that he was about to let me fall as he turned and settled us back on the bed, all that warm, hard, muscled weight stretching out over me in a way that made me feel deliciously trapped. His eyes burned into mine, serious despite the desire etched in every line of his face. “Tell me to stop at any point, and I will.”
But I wouldn’t stop him. I wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted to lose myself in sensation and forget, at least for a little while, everything that was crumbling around me.
In answer, I kissed him again, pouring everything I couldn’t say into the press of our lips, whimpering as his tongue swept into my mouth in a claiming that sent heat pooling low in my belly. His hips ground against my center, and the friction was maddening. I needed so much more than this layered friction. I was desperate for skin on skin, to him inside me filling all the empty, aching places.
My fingers closed over the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it up so I could finally get to the hard planes of muscle I’d been fantasizing about since I’d seen him shirtless on the boat next door. He jerked his mouth away from mine only long enough to drag it over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it to the floor without looking. Then he did the same to me, stripping off my t-shirt and the plain white bra beneath. His curse was reverent as his gaze raked over my exposed skin before he lowered his mouth to take one budded nipple between his lips.
I muffled my cry, my back bowing off the mattress as I bucked for more pressure, more of that delicious friction. His tongue circled and flicked while his teeth grazed just hard enough to send sparks of pleasure-pain shooting straight to my core. It had been so very long since I’d let anyone close enough to touch me like this, and even then, it had never been this consuming, this overwhelming. Maybe because I struggled to trust people—men in particular.
