Page 45 of Lawless Rivals

His head lowers a fraction, and my chin hitches higher. Our breath tangles, and the temperature in the kitchen reaches furnace-level heat.

My lashes flutter from the awareness of him this close when I’m so vulnerable. This is the part where a sensible woman would be frightened.

I’m not, though, and that’s a me problem.

I don’t miss the vein pulsating in his neck, and the sight of it sends a rush through me that scorches its way straight to my core, the desire to put my hands on him overwhelming.

For a split second, I think we’re going to kiss, until he slams the knife on the counter and takes a measured step back as if it pains him.

“You’ll appreciate women’s clothes now, Harrington,” he says, voice like gravel.

Then he turns away from me and runs a hand through his hair.

I stay where I am, shirt open, skin electrified, heart racing, knowing I shouldn’t be aching for his hands or his lips.

The silence hardly has time to grow uncomfortable when his phone rings.

Saint answers the call and listens for a second, eyes already distant, the moment between us fading fast.

“Great,” he says. “I’m on my way.”

He ends the call, pockets his phone, and reaches for his coat on the hook by the front door. Shrugging into it, he positions the cap on his head next and plays it cool like we weren’t a breath away from crossing every single line there is.

“Get dressed,” he says, not turning around. “I’ll be back later tonight.”

He pulls the door open and steps outside, closing it behind him without another glance my way.

The lock clicks.

I stand there alone in his kitchen and press a hand to my belly, off balance by the rush of heat coursing through my veins.

Nothing good would come from letting a man like Saint Tallon take up residence in my head.

The problem is he’s already there, though. And has been since the gala. Since a five second kiss had me wanting a man I didn’t know.

I straighten my spine and go back to thinking about home. The Harrington estate takes longer to picture than it used to.

I cover my chest and move toward the plastic bag waiting on the table.

Inside, there’s a packet of unopened panties, a pair of breeches, and a jumper that are very obviously someone else’s.

I groan at the thought of sliding into the black-haired woman’s clothes. No wonder she looked furious.

I don’t linger on it, though. He’s her problem to deal with. Rather, I snatch the bag and head for the bathroom, turning the shower on and letting the heat work its way through me until the heat in my veins dulls.

When I’m dry, I pull on the new panties and leave the rest. I go straight to his room, take one of his fresh T-shirts from the drawer instead, pull it on and return to the sitting room.

Another log goes on the fire, and I punch the remote-control button to turn on the television.

By the time the light outside is gone, the only glow in the cabin comes from the flames and the film playing on the screen.

I pull the blanket over my legs and settle into the couch, staying there until the credits roll.

It’s midnight, and he’s still not home.

Not that I care. The more space he gives me, the easier it’ll be to get through this.

I yawn, stretch, and switch the television off, listening to the quiet settle back into the cabin. In the distance, dogs bark somewhere in the yard and then stop.