Page 64 of Lawless Rivals

Christ.

I should throw on sweats and walk onto the porch. Smoke until the cold numbs everything.

Instead, I press a hand to the bathroom door and lean there, listening to the shower run.

One minute. Maybe two. Long enough for the last decent thought in my head to fade.

Fuck it.

She can hate me after.

I grip the doorknob, twist it open, and step into the steam.

The bathroom is a sauna, the mirror swallowed in fog, the air heavy with heat and soap and her.

She has her back to me, water streaming down the length of her spine before breaking over the curve of her ass in rivulets that drag my gaze lower. My mouth goes dry.

Her shoulders tense.

When she looks over her shoulder her eyes are dark and furious and she’s so fucking beautiful it makes my dick ache.

“I’m not finished,” she hisses. “Get the hell out.”

That bite of hers is like waving a red flag at a bull, and the challenge in it hits deep and dangerous.

I strip fast, yanking my damp shirt over my head, shoving my jeans down and kicking my boxers away while my dick grows harder, thicker and more painful, blood pumping hot and relentless, every second stretching the tension tighter.

Three strides, and I’m behind her. Hot water hits my frozen skin hard enough to lock my jaw, but it doesn’t ease anything. I’ve been holding this thing inside me by the throat, and now I’m this close to feel her in the steam, my grip slips.

She spins around, her glare dark with pure venom, steam curling between us like smoke before a blaze.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get out!”

I crowd her against the tile, one hand braced beside her head, the other on the curve of her waist. The contact hits me hard. Warm skin, wet, real. I feel it everywhere.

This woman will be the death of me.

She’s the scorching fire to melt icecaps, the only thing capable of burning through everything I’ve built.

Keira shoves at my chest with slippery warm hands, her nails raking my skin, scraping faint red lines that sting and spark at once.

If only she knew how lethal that sensation is… how it feeds something in me I fight every second we’re close.

“I said get out!” she snarls, but her voice cracks with the same want that’s eating me alive.

“If you didn’t want me to join ya, Keira, you would’ve locked the door.” I step into her so her nipples brush my chest. “Isn’t that right?”

“Fuck you…” she spits, and her hand slices through the steam and cracks against my cheek.

I catch her wrist before it can fall and pin it above her head as water pounds around us, the heat closing in. Then I dip my head and take her mouth before the last curse has left it, crowding her against the tiles.

Keira goes rigid beneath me, her lips sealed. Then her free hand fists in my hair and pulls me closer as her mouth opens under mine. I angle my head and kiss her harder, giving in to every filthy thought I’ve had about her since the gala.

She kisses me back like she’s furious about it. Teeth and tongue and her fingers digging into my shoulders, nails biting deep. I feel it down my spine and lower, my dick hard as it presses against her stomach.

She fights me, pushing and striking at my shoulders, but there’s no conviction in it now. It’s all heat and panic at how quickly she’s melting.

I grab her jaw, tipping her head back so I control the angle, the depth, the hungry pace. She whimpers against my mouth and I swallow it whole.