When I told him we needed to talk, I took responsibility for potentially leading him on and I told him he needed to move on. He seemed to have taken it well and understood where I was coming from, or so I thought.
“I’ve been here almost your whole pregnancy, helping with Alessia, and you’re going to just act like seeing me is some big inconvenience?”
“Get my daughter’s name out of your fucking mouth,” Rio seethes.
“So he is the father. This the guy you fucked me off for?”
I balk at his twisted version of events. “Excuse me?” He just looks at me blankly, and suddenly I’m even more irate than Rio. “How fucking dare you come in here acting like you’ve been wronged? And to come here insinuating that in the last year you and I were ever a thing.” I shrug and shake my head. “I’ll ask you again, what are you doing here?”
His shoulders sag, seeming to lose some of his earlier bravado. “I thought I’d give you some space, and I did, but I’m not ready to walk away from us.”
When I take a few seconds too long to answer, Rio beats me to the punch. “Listen, Chad. Can you give us a minute, please?”
Without waiting for an answer, he steps around me, holds on to the door and pushes Chad out of the entryway, closing the door in his face. When his eyes are back on mine, I feel my pulse quicken.
I can’t tell if he wants to fight or he wants to fuck, but there’s no denying the tension in the room.
“Listen, Rio, I can explain,” I start.
He grabs my face in between his large calloused hands. “I don’t want to hear it. Just answer me this. Do you want him?”
“No.” I’ve barely uttered the word when Rio smashes his mouth to mine.
“Good,” he growls. “Because in case I didn’t make myself clear earlier, we are doing this. I’m not competing with your past. As far as I’m concerned, he doesn’t fucking exist.”
His lips capture mine, possession and desperation in his kiss. Every single thought flitters from my mind, any argument or insecurity I had for why this wouldn’t work between us has completely disappeared.
“You. Are. Mine.”
Without a care in the world, I throw my arms around his neck, and he lifts me up off the ground. He pushes me up against the wooden door and I wrap my legs around his waist, my usually dormant desire escalating to unbearable heights.
We’ve fused together. On the same page in every way possible. Body. Heart. Mind.
He drops his hold on my legs, and I put all my weight against the door, while his mouth moves across my jaw and down my neck.
His lips briefly skate past my covered breasts. “I can’t wait to have these again.”
He raises my tank top, peppering kisses across my now soft stomach. “I love this,” he says in awe. “I love that you carried our baby. I love that you sacrificed your body to keep her safe.”
My eyes begin to water, a heady mix of lust and love swimming through me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Without preamble, he’s on his knees, tugging down my yoga pants, followed by my underwear.
“Outside,” I pant. “Chad’s outside.”
His thumb circles my clit. “Wrong name, baby.”
He continues to tease the nub, rolling and pinching, driving me insane. “Rio,” I cry out.
“That’s it,” he coaxes, his voice full of pride. “I want him to hear you.”
Rio swipes at my center, and I feel myself shudder at the contact. It’s sick and depraved on so many levels, but just the thought of having the man who broke my heart on the other side of this door versus having the man who unknowingly put me back together worshipping me on every single level, is enough to have my whole body coiled in a knot, desperate for release.
He devours me.
Just like he did the first time; new body be damned.
His lips. His tongue. They can’t get enough. In and out. Licking and sucking.
When he thrusts two fingers inside me, I know I’m teetering on the edge and there’s no turning back.
“Rio,” I breathe out, gripping his hair and pushing his mouth toward me. “Fuck, Rio, I’m going to come.”
With all the precision and dedication of a man on a mission, he feasts on me until my legs quake around his head and my arousal fills his mouth.
I sag against the door, my chest rising and falling in sated exhaustion. He sits back on his haunches, his wet mouth turned up in a cheeky smirk. “How was that?”
The words don’t work, laughter bubbling up and out of my mouth instead.
“Do you think he’s still outside?” I ask.
“I fucking hope so.”
Bending at the waist, I reach for his shirt and drag him to me till our mouths meet. I taste myself on his tongue, loving every single thing about this moment.
Right on cue, Alessia’s little cries drift through the apartment. “Pass me my pants, please,” I murmur against his lips.
He hands me my underwear. “I think these will suffice. The yoga pants just cover up your beautiful ass, and that is a fucking crime.”
“So fucking smooth,” I sass. I tug the pants out of his reach and begin untangling them till they’re no longer inside out.
“I’m going to check on Alessia,” he says while rising to his feet. He tips his chin in the direction of the door. “You can check to see if fuckwit is still outside. But if he’s got any sense of self-preservation, I’m going to assume he fled the second we slammed the door in his face.”
Rio disappears back into my bedroom, and I slowly thread my legs inside my leggings and pull them up over my waist.
When I finally open the door, I’m relieved to find Chad is no longer on the other side. But there is a piece of paper sitting in the middle of my welcome mat.
Message received. Chad.
I pick it up and head back into the apartment. Closing the door, I lean on it, just as Rio walks out with a sheepish smile on his face and a baby that should still be asleep in his arms.
I hold out the note. “Chad said, ‘Message received.’”
“That’s right,” Rio says, looking down at Alessia. His eyes drift to me and he winks. “Nobody but me takes care of my girls.”
Chapter Ten
Rosario
Now
“Are you ready yet?” I call out. “Because I don’t really want to be late to this thing.”
“Oh my God,” Blake shouts back. “Don’t rush me. I don’t want to fuck this up.”
Shaking my head, I glance at Alessia, who’s sitting comfortably in my arms. “Your mother is going to kill me,” I tell her.
Heading for the bedroom, I walk through the room and peek my head into the en suite where Blake is currently changing into yet another outfit.
“What are you doing?” I ask, a little exasperated.
She looks around at the hurricane she’s created. “I’m getting dressed.”
“For the fifth time?”
She huffs as she slips her body into a tight pair of skinny-leg jeans. “I can’t show up to your parents’ place looking anything less than perfect,” she explains.