Page 61 of Lawless Rivals

I don’t. Rather, my lips part on instinct instead.

That’s all the invitation he needs.

His hand tightens at the back of my neck, and he pulls me into him. His mouth comes down on mine, the impact enough to steal the air from my lungs.

There’s nothing gentle about it.

His lips move over mine with heat and mind-melting pressure. He angles my head, deepening the kiss as his other hand skates down my side and spans my waist, holding me against him.

I sense the shift in him when I melt into him.

When I let go.

His fingers curl tighter in my hair, and he kisses me harder, slower, dragging the sensation out until my hands find his shoulders and grip.

“I shouldn’t do this,” he murmurs against my mouth, not pulling away.

“No,” I breathe, my lips brushing his when I speak. “You shouldn’t.”

He exhales down his nose, and instead of stopping, his hand glides over my bare breast and cups it with possession rather than haste, his thumb dragging over my nipple until it’s a hard point, then rolling it between his fingers and pinching. The sting shoots straight between my thighs and I moan into his mouth.

The kiss changes, becoming less of a challenge and more hunger.

My hands slide up his shoulders, into his hair, pulling him closer, pressing myself into him.

A low rumble leaves his throat when my other hand reaches between us, shoves under the waistband of his boxers and closes around his cock. He’s full and hard in my palm, so hard the skin is drawn tight, already slick at the tip. When I drag my thumb over it and use it to slide my fist down his length, his hips jerk up off the ground.

“Fuck… You’re a naughty girl, Harrington.”

I pause for a beat, making him wait for the next pump of my fist. “Call me by my name, Saint.”

He smiles against my lips, the short stubble on his jaw rough against my chin. “You’re a naughty fucking girl, Keira.”

His hand leaves my breast and shoves down between my thighs, two fingers dragging through how wet I am.

“Christ,” he breathes against my mouth. “All that fight, and look at ya.”

He works the flat of his fingers over my clit, matching the pace I’m setting on him. My hips buck into his hand. His cock jerks in my fist.

For a breathless stretch of time the world narrows to this—his fingers buried between my legs, my fist pumping him faster, both of us panting into each other’s mouths. I’m right at the edge. His thighs lock around mine, his cock swells thicker in my hand, and I know he’s seconds behind me.

“Saint!” A shout echoes through the trees. “You out here?”

He rips his hand out from between my thighs and wipes it down his own leg, and the sudden absence of him is so cruel I nearly say something I’d never take back.

“Fuck,” he mutters, already listening. “That’s Rafe.”

We’re on our feet in seconds.

The change in him is immediate. The heat we shared is ice-cold. He squares his shoulders and runs a hand through his hair, not looking back at me. The man who kissed me is gone, replaced by the Tallon who doesn’t lose control.

“Get dressed,” he orders, already reaching for his jeans.

He steps into them fast, dragging the denim up his legs and buckling his belt. There’s no lingering, no glances, even though his breathing hasn’t quite steadied.

He strides to the branch, grabs my clothes and throws them at me.

“Hurry up.”