Chapter 12

Beth hesitates, knowing that Rio's not just asking permission to enter the house.

But, despite recognising the magnitude of this mistake before it's even begun, she can't find the will to deny herself this – whatever it might be.

Worse; she can't deny him.

Pushing the door open in silent response, she watches as he steps into the darkened warmth of her bedroom and prowls restlessly across the floor, leaving a wet track of footprints in his wake. Reaching the dresser, he comes to a stop; his back towards her, head bowed, defeat radiating off him in waves.

Heart aching for him, Beth quickly locks the doors and closes the curtains on the outside world. Peering across at Rio in the near complete darkness, she has the surreal sense that time has been suspended; as if whatever happens in these next moments exists in a different reality entirely.

Following him across the room, she places the gun carefully aside and reaches out for him – puts a tentative hand on his shoulder – but he doesn't turn.

His thick sweater is soaking wet beneath her palm and she murmurs softly, "Rio, we've got to get you out of these clothes."

When he doesn't respond, she moves her hands to his waist, firmer now, as she guides him around to face her.

His head remains low and she can't read his expression – the soft blue glow from the digital radio on the dresser the only source of light.

Apprehension building at an alarming pace, Beth cups his stubbled jaw in her palms and gently tilts his face upwards, forcing calm into her voice as she tells him, "Rio, I'm going to need your help with this."

Nodding distractedly, he pulls the sweater over his head and she takes the heavy garment from him.

"Now the rest," she directs, in the same gentle tone, "I'll throw all of this in the dryer, it won't take long."

Rio's t-shirt follows, then he's toeing off his sneakers and his hands are making swift work of the snap of his jeans, and the silence – sombre only seconds ago – is gradually growing charged.

Swallowing delicately as she watches him step out of his jeans, Beth holds her hand out to take them and says breathlessly, "There's a fresh towel right through there, if you want to dry off or take a shower…"

Trailing off, she turns quickly away, towards the door – towards salvation – when he reaches out to stop her.

"Elizabeth."

Tugging her back to him, Rio takes the clothing and tosses it carelessly aside. Hearing the muffled thud as the wet pile lands somewhere near the door, she's about to protest, but then it's his hands on her face; cupping her jaw, tilting her mouth towards his as it descends in the darkness.

And, just like that, any and all pressing thoughts fade into obscurity.

Lips meeting with an urgency born of several weeks apart, they stumble together through the shadowy depths of her bedroom, and Beth moans softly as the unyielding heat of Rio's near-naked body presses her suddenly against the cool panels of the wardrobe.

Moving sensuously against him, she gasps for air as his mouth leaves hers to slide down her throat and the exposed V of her cleavage. He fumbles for a moment with the tiny buttons between her breasts, growling with impatience before abandoning the task and sucking one taut nipple into his mouth through the silky material of her pyjama top.

Clutching at his muscular shoulders as he moves hungrily to the other breast, Beth tilts her head back against the wooden panelling, closing her eyes to luxuriate in the strong tug of his mouth and the blunt scrape of his teeth against her nipples; her panties already impossibly wet.

Countless moments later, she draws his lips back to hers and slips a hand between their straining bodies to grasp the thick jut of his erection. Groaning into her mouth, Rio steps out of his boxers and braces himself against the wardrobe, his strong arms bracketing her head, as she moves her hand firmly on him.

She can feel the tension vibrating through his tall frame – increasing with each stroke – and, revelling in the heady power of his response to her, she draws back to whisper his words boldly back to him, "I want to taste you,"

Rio's cock leaps in her hand and his breath catches, as he groans roughly, "Fuck, baby! What are you doin' to me?!"

And, with a secret, gratified smile, she's sliding down his torso, leaving small nips and open-mouthed kisses on the smooth skin of his chest and abdomen, until her knees hit the soft cushion of the carpet below.

Pausing to glance up at his silhouette in the darkness, she flicks her tongue out to lap at the drops of precum that have gathered on the head of his cock.

There's no missing his sharp inhalation of breath – a breath that's hissing out a moment later as she takes the full length of him in her mouth – or the heightened tension in his body as his hand fists in her hair.

Feeling wanton and powerful, she grasps the base of his cock firmly in one hand and moves her mouth over the thick length of him, licking and sucking in a tantalisingly slow rhythm as she becomes accustomed to his size. Then she's moving faster, sucking harder, deeper; her hand and mouth working in tandem for countless minutes, as his body strains towards release.

And then, with a horse shout, he's coming; his hand tightening in her hair as the hot gush of his release courses down her throat.

Swallowing every last drop, Beth slowly slides her mouth from him and stands to her feet.

Rio's hand is still tangled in her curls and he drops his forehead to rest against her own, a soft huff of self-deprecating laughter escaping his lips, as he murmurs thickly, "Fuck."

Guiding her slowly towards the bed, he finishes opening the buttons on her pyjama top and slips the material off her shoulders. Then he's sliding his hands over the curve of her backside, pushing the matching bottoms down to pool at her feet.

Stepping backwards out of them, in nothing but a pair of white, lace panties, Beth continues onto the bed, sliding across the soft comforter until she's lying on her back in the middle of the mattress; her upper body propped slightly on her elbows as she waits for Rio to join her.

He's standing exactly where she left him, eyes glued to the soft curves of her body in the muted darkness; his hungry gaze drinking her in.

Then he's moving towards her, over her – every delicious hard and heavy inch of him pressed against her – and her lips part in silent expectation as he lowers his mouth and captures hers in a slow, deep kiss.

Knowing she still carries the taste of him on her tongue – that they are sharing it now – Beth's already molten arousal becomes unbearably heightened, but every time she tries to increase the tempo of the kiss he resists.

Finally surrendering to the achingly slow pace, she slides her palms over the velvet warmth of his skin, tracing the contours of his muscular torso, as she meets each languid brush of his lips and tongue with her own.

His strong hands are on their own voyage of discovery, stroking lazily over the generous swell of her breasts, shaping the soft curves of her waist and stomach, and trailing lower, across her abdomen and upper thighs – frustratingly close to the slick core of her need – before drifting maddeningly away.

And, while her body melts beneath his – with every sensual stroke and each languid kiss – somewhere, deep in her mind, alarm bells are ringing, but she can't quite figure out why.

And now those teasing fingers are making good on their promise – sliding oh-so-slowly around the wet heat at her entrance, circling up and over clit, before stroking lazily back down – and Beth's mind can focus on nothing but this incredible, tantalising pleasure, and the visceral need for more.

When he continues to draw out the torturously slow strokes – rubbing, circling, but never penetrating – Beth moans her frustration, hips bucking urgently against him, desperately seeking that earth-shattering release that she knows will follow.

"Easy, sweetheart," Rio murmurs, staring down at her with stark hunger in his eyes – evident even in this near darkness – as his hand moves expertly against the slick heat between her thighs. And Beth feels her heart contract in her chest at the shocking intimacy of it.

All at once she realises, suddenly, painfully, why her mind is still trying to resist when her body is so past ready for it.

"Rio…" she begins breathlessly, unsure of how to continue.

Don't do this; don't make love to me.

But then he's finally replacing his fingers with the blunt head of his cock as he pushes inside her – inch by slow torturous inch – and the last vestiges of rational thought are obliterated on a soaring wave of pleasure.

Dipping his head to capture her lips in a soft, sensual kiss, Rio starts to move – every stroke deliciously, achingly slow – and Beth follows the torturous rhythm he sets; her hips undulating softly against him, her mouth drawn irresistibly back to his, again and again, drinking in the almost unbearable sensuality of his kiss.

The darkened room is filled with nothing but the sounds of their passion as they move together in a perfect, heart-wrenching synchrony; completely foreign to their shared experience before now.

Beth catches her breath on an almost-sob – her body sensitised beyond belief – as she experiences, over and over, the feeling of loss as his body slides from hers, and then that total and utter completion as it sinks heavily back in; joining them in a shared moment of intensity that is at once too much, and yet, not nearly enough.

And then they're moving again; each stroke pushing them higher and higher towards the beckoning peak of an orgasm that promises to be earth-shattering.

Rio's dark eyes are intent on her own, his face strained with naked arousal, and, gazing up at him, Beth is completely undone. As the first blinding wave of pleasure breaks over her, she throws her head back and closes her eyes; afraid of what they might reveal. She's aware of Rio following her over the edge a moment later, and then her body and mind are nothing more than a trembling mass of pure sensation, as wave after wave of pleasure – so intense it verges on violent – wracks through her.

Drifting back down to earth countless moments later, Beth brushes her fingers softly up and down Rio's back as she waits for him to surface; part of her already on high alert for any signs of tension in his body that would signal his withdrawal. But, when he stirs a few seconds later, he simply smiles sleepily at her and nudges her upwards in the bed until they're under the soft warmth of the comforter.

Then he's clasping her body loosely against his side closing his eyes.

Within minutes, he's out.

Totally unprepared for this – for any of it – it takes Beth much longer to empty her mind of the numerous dark thoughts that are circling menacingly, like vultures; ready to swoop down and tear any peace of mind to shreds.

But the soothing heat of Rio's body beside hers is pulling her under, and she finally gives in; tucking herself more closely against him, her head on the cushion of his shoulder and her palm resting against the soft rise and fall of his chest.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Beth wakes in a delicious cocoon of warmth and it takes her sleep-addled brain a moment to figure out what exactly is different about today. Then it's falling into place – the memory of last night – just as she registers the close press of a naked body against her own. She's lying on her side and Rio is literally wrapped around her – his arm close about her waist, anchoring her against his torso, and his thigh wedged between her own, pressing his groin against the soft curve of her backside.

Breath catching in her throat, she allows herself a moment to bask in the heady comfort of being held by this man; held like she's the most precious thing in the world to him. But, knowing that the illusion of this particular fantasy will not withstand the cold light of day, she removes herself gently from his embrace, before it can be removed from her, and slips off to the bathroom.

When she returns, showered and dressed, a short while later, Rio's still lying where she left him and Beth stops in her tracks, heart twisting uncomfortably in her chest, as she take in the arresting sight of him asleep in her bed; the usually hard plains of his face impossibly softened in slumber. He looks different, younger; vulnerable in a way she's never seen before.

But then, he'd usually be long gone by now.

Turning quickly away on the heels of the thought, Beth picks up the discarded pile of damp clothing from the floor and slips quietly from the room. After turning on the dryer, she sets a jug of coffee to brew and glances around the kitchen in search of something – anything – to keep her mind from the tumultuous jumble of thoughts circling around and around in her head; none of them good.

Managing to keep herself preoccupied for half an hour until the dryer is done, she can't resist folding the warm clothes neatly, before taking them back to her bedroom – pulse accelerating rapidly along the way.

Quietly opening the door, she expects to find Rio still sleeping, but instead, he's sitting on the edge of the mattress, with the comforter draped precariously across his naked lap, elbows on his knees, and his head dropped low before him.

Straightening up as she enters the room, he gives her a small, rueful smile and murmurs roughly, "Mornin'."

"Morning!" Beth replies brightly, determined to act as normally as possible, when really all she wants to do is hold him; walk over there and stand between his legs, gather his head against her chest and soothe some of the jagged edges of his pain away.

God, you're such a cliché!

Groaning inwardly and feeling like all kinds of idiot, she places the clothes on the bed beside him and says, "I'll let you get dressed. There's fresh coffee in the kitchen when you're ready."

And then she's turning away – from fresh memories invoked by the room, the bed, him – before she can do or say something stupid.

When he comes down five minutes later, all traces of vulnerability are gone and he is once again the Rio most familiar to her; cool, assured, aloof.

Part of her is relieved – she knows where she stands with this man, knows how to interact with him – but another, much bigger part…

Taking a deep breath to loosen the tension that's squeezing her chest, Beth watches as Rio takes a seat at the kitchen island and pours him a cup of coffee, before standing back against the counter with her own steaming mug cradled before her.

"I'm really sorry about Max," she says softly.

His eyes flare in momentary surprise before he clamps down on the emotion and shrugs dismissively, "Happens."

But, as much as he'd like to hide it, she can read him well enough to see the pain in his face and knows that he's hurting; really hurting.

Nodding in apparent acceptance of this, she asks, "So what now; there's some kind of reprisal?"

Glancing down and away, he answers coolly, "It's done."

And she understands then that it's not just the pain of Max's death that weighs on him.

Appalled – both for him and with him – she merely nods again and asks, "So now the ball's in their court, what happens next?"

He's about to speak when she interrupts him, "And don't tell me not to worry about it."

The corner of his mouth lifts in a twist of a smile.

"Hopefully nothin'. This kind of drama's bad for business and he knows that."

It appears as if that's all he's going to say, but, after swallowing a mouthful of coffee, he continues.

"But, honestly? I don't know. This guy's determined. And he'll look weak if he backs down now, which is not somethin' any of us can afford."

The tension in Beth's chest twists tighter as she listens. "Do you have the leverage you'll need if he doesn't back off? I'm assuming the 'eye for an eye' model is not really sustainable in the long-term."

Giving her a wry smile that acknowledges his predictability, he says, "You let me worry about that, yeah?"

Watching him for a moment, as countless possibilities run through her mind, Beth asks suddenly, "Did the thing at the bank – with Mr Wilson – have anything to do with all of this?"

Taking another sip of his coffee, he says carefully, "Nah, the Feds put pressure on him, but he didn't talk."

The absolute certainty in his voice sends a shiver down her spine.

"Guess they still see you as a person of interest after all," he continues, "But they ain't got nothin'."

"How can you possibly know that?" she asks sharply.

"Well, you're here aren't you? But we won't be usin' that bank again, and you best keep your head down for a bit; no job bar the real one, at least for a while."

Processing all of this in silence, Beth simply watches him, her face and open book of worry, subconsciously willing Rio to say something that might help to ease her anxiety.

Shifting in his seat beneath her expectant stare, Rio gets to his feet, leaving his coffee unfinished on the counter.

"Look, uh," he starts, clearing his throat as he raises his hood up and slips his hands into the deep pockets of his hoody, "We don't need to talk about last night, right?"

Blinking in surprise, Beth doesn't quite know what to say.

Say no, SAY NO, damnit!

But she remains silent.

And then he's speaking again, and each word is a knife through her heart.

"'Cause you were right, before; things are messy enough right now, and the last thing I need's another complication."

The silence is deafening – the air around them heavy with the weight of bitter, unspoken words – and Rio watches her, waiting for her response to what can only be his intentional cruelty.

Channelling every shred of strength she has into maintaining a neutral façade, Beth holds his eye steadily and intones, "No complications here."

The words are hard but emotionless, and she feels vindictively pleased when he appears to have expected more.

Nodding once, he leaves through the back door without another word.

And Beth, knowing that this time there's no hiding from the truth of her feelings for this man, crumbles in his wake.