Raw Bloody Power

Chapter 22

22

ONE KISS IS ALL IT TAKES

Ivory

February 2011

Shannel clings to my arm as we follow the group into Jonathan’s guest house. They called for Seven Minutes in Heaven, and Shan was all too game to play, especially when she noticed Archer Saxon was joining in. She’s had a crush on him since the seventh grade, and if I know her at all, she’s willing luck to land the bottle on him when she takes her spin.

I, on the other hand, have no desire to partake because with my shit luck, I’ll land on him.

It’s been peaceful this year, but I know that’s only because he graduated last summer. Actually, that’s a lie. Rio never touched me again after his friends nabbed me up, and while we’ve run into each other here and there at that parties, he’s kept his distance. Still, I steer clear of him whenever I see him because, frankly, I’m not interested in possibly sparking his previous desires to torment me .

Which is why as I’m yanked onto the floor, and I immediately feel the weight of his gaze pinning me from across the circle, I know this is a bad idea—even with the three beers clouding my judgement.

“All right, here’s the rules,” Jonathan shouts over the music. “Spin the bottle. Whoever it lands on is your match. You’ve got seven minutes in the room. Do with that what you will. Just keep it consensual, okay?” The group laughs as he points at some of the unruly, overly drunk jocks. “We’ll bang on the door when time’s up.”

The game starts with Jonathan taking the first spin. Feels like an eternity passes before it stops in front of Cassy Danes. Jonathan smirks, Cassy blushes, everyone hooting, hollering, and whistling as they rise from their spots and head towards the designated room. Conversations spark up over “Royals” by Lorde as we wait for seven minutes to elapse.

Shannel rambles on about something or other, I’m not sure what exactly, mostly because I’m not listening. I’m too hyperaware of Rio’s stare still glued to my profile as I stare past my best friend’s head at the beach themed watercolor art hung on the shiplap walls.

I don’t know how long we sit there, probably a good hour or so, before it’s finally Shan’s turn. She scoots up on her knees and spins the bottle with every bit of strength she can muster. Round and around it goes until finally, it stops…on Archer Saxon. Mentally, she’s losing her ever-loving shit. I know she is. On the outside, though. she’s cool as a cucumber.

They exchange a look, a wave of ruckus starting anew as Archer pushes onto his feet. Shannel glances over at me excitedly, her blonde curls swishing with the motion, and I nod, giving her my stamp of approval despite the fact I very much do not want to be left alone. The moment she disappears behind those bedroom doors, I’m gone. I need some air, maybe another drink. She can come find me when she’s done sucking face.

Weaving in and out of all the bodies surrounding the pool, I burst inside the main house and head for the kitchen. Red solo cup, a fill from the keg, and I’m out, trudging through the crowd to the front yard. There’s no mistaking what’s going on inside; I’m sure Katy Perry can be heard down the street, but it’s somehow infinitely quieter out here. I can actually breathe, inhaling a deep pull of fresh air as I climb onto the open bed of someone’s empty F-150 and stare up at the night sky.

It’s too bright with all the streetlights to truly see the stars, but I appreciate what I can see regardless and will myself to calm down. This happens every time I’m around Rio, a natural response after years of him antago ? —

“You look nice tonight.”

My head whips around to the sound of his deep voice, the very boy in question. Or man, I guess I should say. He’s almost nineteen now, and looking every bit the mafia heir tonight in all black. Casual in a leather jacket, t-shirt, and jeans with matching silver chain and bracelet for embellishments, but fitting the role nonetheless.

That instinctual response kicks in again. A gasp blasts into the cool, late winter air, eyes widening at the sight of him not ten feet away with a beer bottle in his grasp. I jump onto my feet, ready to knock an elbow into his teeth if necessary, but he lifts a hand in surrender .

“I come in peace.”

I don’t believe him, my stare narrowing into tiny slits as I abandon my drink and put an extra five spaces between us. “What do you want?”

“You just gonna ignore my compliment?” he fires back, only the slightest hint of irritation in his tone.

Compliment? “What compliment?”

Rio rolls his eyes and drains what remains in the green bottle, his throat bobbing with each swallow. “I said you look nice tonight.”

Are pigs flying? No, seriously. Are they? Because… what? “I, um…” I shake my head to clear it, unsure of how to respond. “Thanks?”

“Don’t sound so flattered now,” he snorts mirthlessly.

“Why would I when I’m not?” I kind of am…thrown that he said it but flattered regardless. I’m not blind; Rio’s beautiful in that tall, dark, and handsome kind of way.

If only he wasn’t so ugly on the inside.

He whistles softly and gives a little head shake of his own. “Tough crowd.”

“Not really sure why you would’ve thought otherwise,” I retort.

I mean, seriously?

He doesn’t respond. Not with words, anyway. Those usually intimidating dark eyes of his rake over me in a slow descent. I feel every last bit of them down to the tips of my toes, or at least, I think I do. I’m not super experienced in the guy department—Shannel’s the boy crazy one between the two of us—but when his stare works it way back up and lands on my face, the blood in my veins suddenly burns.

“Wanna play spin the bottle? ”

The question catches me off guard. I volley my head silently, rapt on the way he spins said bottle with only one hand. A mistake on my part because he uses the little trick to his advantage, closing in on me undetected.

“Too late.” The gravelly baritone of his voice refocuses my attention to find him not a foot away. “Looks like we get seven minutes.”

Momentarily confused, I flick my gaze up to his awaiting stare…until I realize he’s stopped spinning the bottle—and the mouth’s pointing at me. A result of his doing, obviously, but my heart rate spikes no less. My mouth pops open to decline, head jerking side to side, but he’s already moving.

Backing me into the darkened side of the truck.

Setting his hands against the driver’s window, one on either side of my head.

We haven’t been this close in a while, nearly a year ago. My heart feels like it’s about to burst through my chest, each breath heaving harder than the last. Rio’s not far behind, either, to be completely honest, his lips parted as we stare each other down.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a really long time,” he murmurs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“Why?” I whisper back, momentarily transported to that day in his car when I thought he might have thoughts of doing just that.

A second ticks by, then another, his dark gaze searching mine for what? I don’t really know. “Because I’m not supposed to.” He leans in closer, nearly brushing our lips together. “You’re the forbidden fruit, tempting me at every turn.”

“Yeah, tempting you to torment me,” I scoff quietly .

Rio chuckles, sliding a surprisingly gentle hand around my throat. “Haven’t you heard the saying ‘if they pick on you, they like you’?”

Oh, please.

“Even on your best day, that was so far from just picking on me.”

“Maybe, but you can’t blame me. It’s ingrained in my DNA to hate you, just like I’m sure it is for you. Rival families and all that.”

“Bullshit. You don’t see Santo beating up on your little brothers,” I fire back.

“‘Cause he doesn’t want their attention,” His grip tightens. “But I want yours—all of it. Good or bad.”

My eyes go for a spin as I place a palm to his noticeably hard chest and shove him back. “You’re drunk, Rio. Leave me alone.”

“I can assure you I’m very much not.” An arm whips out, effectively stopping my getaway. “I’ve had four beers since I got here and I’m no light weight. You, though, all rosy cheeks and glassy eyes, look a little tipsy to me.”

“I’m not. I’m fine,” I huff.

I’m not fine, though. My head’s swimming, my stomach’s in one big knot. Being in his presence certainly isn’t helping, either. I’m suddenly…dizzy.

“I don’t want you to be fine,” he murmurs. “I want your inhibitions flying out the window, letting me in once and for all.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely drunk. Move.” I shove him again, but he cages me in, pressing his body flush against mine .

“Can’t do that.”

I’m barely breathing at this point, trying my damnedest to keep from shivering beneath his weight. “Why not?”

“‘Cause I wanna kiss you.” The soft pad of his thumb traces my cupid’s bow. “These lips have been calling my name for as long as I can remember, and now, the bottle has spoken…”

“The bottle said nothing,” I remind him.

“It pointed right at you,” he argues.

“You pointed it right at me.”

“Exactly.” He brushes our lips together. “Had to take matters into my own hands. You’re the only girl I’d want it to land on anyway.”

I can all but taste him at this point. That’s how close he is. My eyes squeeze shut in anticipation. “Rio…”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t,” I whisper.

“Why not?” he whispers back.

“You know why.”

“Look at me and tell me you don’t want this.”

I wish I knew why my body responds to his command. Seriously, why? It’s instantaneous, thoughtless. Our stares collide; his resolute and full of intent, mine befuddled and completely disarmed. “I… I…”

Rio smiles victoriously, and cups the side of my face. “That’s what I thought.”

He’s kissing me a breath later.

Rio Guerra is kissing me for the first time in my life…and I’m letting him. Why am I letting him? Why am I giving him my first kiss!

Why am I locking my arms around his neck, or allowing him to set the pace? Opening wider as his tongue seeks entrance and foolishly reveling in the feel of being trapped in his not-so-malevolent embrace.

He tastes like beer and bad decisions, ripping right through my tolerance and inebriating me beyond repair.

And I want more…

We were never the same after that night. One touch of his lips was all it took to rouse an addiction I don’t think either one of us were prepared for. Outside of school and any familial obligations, I was with him every chance I got. He made it so easy to forget everything that’d happened before that kiss. Literally everything.

Too damn easy, really.

I didn’t even care, that’s how easy I’m talking.

A few months later, I gave him every last piece of me. Literally threw my V-card right at him without a second thought and let him take what he wanted. He did. And you know what? As cheesy as it sounds, it was magic; he was tender, took his time, made it special.

Unforgettable.

Most girls think back on their first time and cringe, maybe even regret it.

I don’t.

I never have. I can still smell the fresh rose petals and the hints of vanilla from all the candles as I watch the city blur past me now in the back of the Uber.

The Uber I grabbed after he fucked me like an absolute animal in that VIP room. The space between my thighs is still drenched, a lingering reminder of complete and utter ecstasy that rampaged through my body. If I wasn’t still riding the high, I’d be kicking myself in the ass right now.

But I’m too sated to give a shit.

Tomorrow I’ll feel differently. I know I will. I’m sure he will, too.

Because one just doesn’t fuck their crazy ex and not live to regret it after the fact.