Page 29 of Lawless Rivals

“Anyway,” she says, rallying fire, “I can say whatever words I want.”

“Then say it again.”

She blinks. “What?”

“Say fuck you,” I murmur. “Again.”

She licks her lips and my mind scrambles. “Fuck you, Saint.”

I feel it everywhere. In my throat, my gut, and low behind my zip where I’ve been half-hard since she crossed my kitchen in nothing but my shirt.

“Again.”

“Why?” she breathes.

“Because I like the way it sounds coming out of your mouth,” I say quietly, leaning in to notice her breath quicken. “Almost like you’re imagining me fucking ya.”

The pulse in her neck jumps beneath her skin.

“As if,” she whispers.

Her thighs shift against the cupboard door.

I pull her into me, one hard swipe of my arm around her waist, her chest colliding with mine.

Her breath stutters against my throat, her hands flattening against my chest.

She doesn’t push. Her palms just sit there over my heart, and I can feel her nipples through the flannel, drawn up tight against my bare chest.

I dip my head, letting my lips hover just above hers, not touching in any way.

My thigh slides between hers because there’s nowhere else for it to go. Her breath comes apart completely and her hips tilt with one small, involuntary roll against my leg. She senses herself do it and goes rigid with the shame of it.

“You look at me like you’re not scared,” I murmur, tightening my hold until her heartbeat thunders against my ribs. “Like you’ve somehow forgotten I’m the bastard who dragged ya out of that gala. Like you crave something you shouldn’t.”

Her gaze drops to my mouth. A mistake. A bad fucking mistake.

I angle her chin up with my thumb.

“So tell me Harrington, now that you know who I really am… When I kiss ya again…”

My voice drops an octave, turning gravel-thick.

“…will you be as into it as ya were the last time?”

Chapter 8

Saint

“Seriously, Saint?” She rolls her eyes. “You think I’m into you?”

Being this close to her is setting my skin on fire. She’s gone absolutely rigid and offers me a look of pure repulsion.

“When you kissed me at the gala, you were nothing more than a decent looking stranger in a nice suit. I let you get away with it because it worked in my favor. But now—” She strains her neck to pull away, “—now you’re just a busted-up criminal pushing his weight around.”

A ghost of a smile dances on my lips. “Yeah, I’m a busted-up criminal who ya think you’re better than.”

I back up and return to my seat while she stays put, her gaze taking in the blood oozing down my flexed bicep, passing over the dark black tattoo band in a thin trickle.