When he looked up, her dress lay on the stone deck. A moment later, she broke the surface of the water, slicked back her wet hair, and floated lazily toward the falls. As he watched the water glisten over her bare skin, he kept his thoughts in check, focusing on the strength she’d shown tonight, enduring what should never have been asked of her.
Rhys had seen objectification before. In the right context, with consent, it could be liberating. What Álvarez practicedwas the opposite. Choice never entered the equation. It wasn’t dominance and submission as he knew it—it was subjugation and erasure, reshaping the humanity of these young women into silent obedience.
And Gaby had willingly stepped into this space. That took a kind of courage few possessed.
There was so much more to her than he had allowed himself to see. His friends had recognized it. Leland’s disapproving looks. Mateo’s cutting-edged comments questioned his intelligence. Alec’s voice echoed faintly in his head:I let something good slip through my hands once. Decide… before she makes the call for you.
Excellent advice. He intended to heed it as soon as they were done here.
He searched the pool for her. She had drifted on her back just outside the cascade. Her bare breasts bobbing above the waterline glistened in the moonlight. His body reacted. Did she have any idea how arresting she looked, or what she was doing to him?
He should leave her be until they could talk. That would be the professional thing to do given their mission was underway. And after what she’d just been through. But he didn’t feel professional or considerate. He was on edge, and the need to be near her tugged at him like an irresistible force.
Rhys found himself walking down the steps into the pool. Toward the woman he couldn’t get enough of, not away.
He dove under the water, surfacing in front of her.
Surprised, she jerked upright, water sloshing around her.
Reaching out to steady her, he said low, “Didn’t mean to startle you. Feel better?”
“Physically, yes.”
“What besides the obvious is bothering you?”
“Álvarez isn’t a man who likes to lose. He’ll punish her,” Gaby whispered, staring at the water. “I wish I could help her.”
Rhys brushed a wet strand from her cheek, already beginning to curl in the humidity. “We stop him. That’s how we help her. That’s how we help all of them.”
“The end justifies the means,” she concluded, frowning. “At what cost?”
“None of this is justified, Gaby,” he replied quietly. “But it ends when we succeed.”
She leaned briefly against him. The burbling of the falls stirred a memory, and, when she lifted her head, he saw it mirrored in her eyes.
Everything else fell away. Not dominance. Not cover. Not criminals or would-be kings. Just two people—exhausted, emotionally raw, but still standing. Their lips met, soft and searching, reminding more than demanding.
Rhys remembered the possibility of eyes on them. It didn’t stop him from drawing her into the shadow of the falls, where the water thundered and swallowed the world. Their mouths met again—deeper this time, unhurried, the kind of kiss that carried history and promise all at once.
Her hands slid up his chest, fingers spreading as if she needed to feel him solid beneath her palms. He answered, one arm curving around her back, the other threading into her hair, pulling her close until there was no space left to question.
The water lapped at their waists, warm and restless. He felt her breath stutter against his mouth, felt the subtle shift when she rose into him, not asking… choosing. That choice undid him more thoroughly than any touch.
He lowered his forehead to hers, a brief pause, a last moment of control. “Tell me to stop,” he insisted.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to.”
That was all it took.
He lifted her easily, her legs curving around him as if they’d always known where to go. The stone behind her was cool, the water warm. He sank into her softness, the contrast enough to pull a sound from her throat that he caught with his mouth. He stilled, savoring the feel of her around him. Then he moved with intention, as if every second mattered, because it did.
Her fingers slid into his hair, her body answering his in a slow, inevitable rhythm that left no room for doubt. He followed her cues, stayed with her, until the tension he’d been carrying since the dining room—since the pedestals, the candles, the stillness—finally broke.
Rhys covered her lips, as much to capture her cries of pleasure as to smother his.
After, he stayed where he was, embedded deep, holding her there, his forehead resting against her shoulder as the water rushed around them and the night crept back in.
He drew back just enough to look at her, his hands still firm at her waist. “When this is done, we don’t hide anything. I swear it.”
