Page 60 of Lawless Rivals

When he hums out his answer, the rumble vibrates against my spine and tingles through me.

“My aunt died somewhere out there too,” I say, somewhat breathless because being this close to him is testing me in ways I’ve never known. “She died a long time ago. I never really knew the woman, and no one talks about what happened to her.”

When I draw my knees in tighter, his legs clamp around mine, trapping me between his thighs.

We sit there huddled together in the middle of nowhere, his bare chest flush to my spine, his heat sinking into me in slow, steady waves. And I’m not exactly hating my alone time with Saint.

“At least we’re keeping each other alive out here,” I murmur. “Funny how the war quiets down when it’s just the two of us.”

A low breath leaves him, warm against the back of my neck.

“I think you’ll discover I’m the one keeping you alive,” he corrects.

I wiggle into him more and feel his hard, full dick behind his boxers. His breath leaves him slower this time and heavier.

So I do it again. Slower. He makes a low grunt into my hair, and his fingers dig into my waist.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself anyway,” I glance over my shoulder. “And for the record, you’re only warm because I let you plaster yourself against me.”

He clears his throat, but it isn’t subtle, and he dips his mouth to my ear. His breath skims the sensitive skin there.

“You’re playing with fire, Harrington.”

“I’m just pointing out facts.”

“You’re warmer now, too,” he says, his mouth close enough that the words brush the shell of my ear. “And that’s not just the fire.”

My breath catches before I can stop it. His hands move beneath the jacket and settle at my waist. Heat pools low and slow, my pulse jumping hard enough that I’m sure he feels it.

For a moment we just sit there, heat blooming beneath the coat, his fingers flexing where they rest, pressing into the curve before easing off again

“You enjoy testing me,” he murmurs. “Don’t ya?”

“Stripping was your idea, Saint… I just followed the order.”

A low laugh vibrates through his chest and into my back.

“Telling you to strip for me never got your obedience before?”

His hand leaves my waist and skates upward. His fingers slide over my ribs with steady pressure until they reach my throat, where they close and angle my face toward his.

I twist within the cage of his thighs, my knees still trapped between them, his legs tightening to keep me where he wants me.

His other hand comes up behind my neck, fingers spreading at my nape, anchoring me there while his gaze drops to my mouth and lingers so my breath changes.

“Have I got your obedience, Keira?” His lips hover a breath from mine. “Because I’m ordering you to kiss me.”

My belly flips, and a wicked shiver runs the length of my spine.

“Or what?” I whisper.

His fingers tighten at my nape, and he dips into the last inch, his mouth brushing mine without quite taking it.

“Or I’ll kiss you.”

For a breath, neither of us moves.

His thumb presses once at the base of my throat, right where my pulse beats hardest. His gaze drops to my mouth, then lifts again as if he’s waiting to see if I’ll flinch.