Rio, fully geared up beside her, flashed that maddeningly confident smile. “Exactly.” As they jumped out of the plane.
The world dropped away, and for forty seconds, there was nothing but sky, air, and the kind of freedom she hadn’t known she was craving. When they landed, her knees were shaking partly from adrenaline, and partly from the giddy shock of it all.
As they walked away from the landing zone, still buzzing, Kylee bumped her shoulder into Rio’s. “So, tell me… is this your typical post-meet-and-greet routine?”
He glanced at her, amused. “What, you think I skydive with every woman who gets backstage?”
She shrugged playfully. “You said it yourself, you’re used to women throwing themselves at you.”
He paused for a beat, then said with a tone that surprised her low, honest, serious, “Yeah. They usually come to the hotel. We fuck. And that’s the end of it.”
Kylee raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond.
“But this?” He gestured to the sky. “This isn’t part of the usual. I’ve never done all this… extra. I’ve never cared to.”
She slowed her steps.
“I never thought about any of those women after they left,” he added. “But you?” He turned to her. “You resisted me. Made me feel something. You’re not just a night I want. You’re a memory I already can’t stop replaying.”
Kylee looked away, heart pounding again not from the jump, but from his words. It was dangerous. Addicting. And it was only getting harder to pretend she wasn’t falling.
Later that evening, after a long, luxurious afternoon of thrill and sun, Rio brought Kylee to a hidden cliff side restaurant nestled in the Malibu hills. The sky was painted in layers of lavender and gold as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, romantic glow over the stone terrace where their table was set.
Candles flickered in glass holders. The ocean far below shimmered like liquid silver.
Soft music played in the background jazzy, slow, and almost seductive.
Kylee sat across from him in a backless dress she’d impulsively bought during the day’s shopping spree. Her cheeks were still flushed from the wind, her hair pulled back in a loose bun. She looked alive and lit up in a way she hadn’t in a long time.
Rio leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving her. “You glow like that sunset, Idaho.”
She laughed, looking down at her wine glass. “Maybe it’s just adrenaline. Or this ridiculously perfect setting.”
“No,” he said, voice low. “It’s you.”
She swallowed, unsure how to meet his gaze without losing herself in it. He was dangerous in moments like this not because he was reckless, but because he saw her. Not the version she put on for her family, or the small-town wife people expected. He saw the parts she’d tucked away years ago, the wild ones. The selfish ones. The alive ones.
As their entrées were cleared away and dessert arrived, Rio took another sip of wine and looked at her seriously.
“So,” he began, “tomorrow is the show.”
Kylee nodded, stirring her spoon through her crème brûlée. “Nervous?”
He grinned. “Never.”
She rolled her eyes.
“But I’ve been thinking,” he continued, leaning forward slightly. “I want you to go shopping while I’m at rehearsal. Find something new. Something that makes you feel powerful. Sexy. Dangerous.”
She blinked. “Dangerous?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Something that makes me nervous.”
Kylee let out a soft laugh. “Okay, bossy.”
“I’m serious,” he said. “You’re not just a guest tomorrow. You’re coming with me. I want you to ride into the concert with me, sit backstage, and be there before the first note plays.”
She set her spoon down slowly. “Rio, that’s a big statement.”
