Page 28 of Lawless Rivals

A low, involuntary smile tugs at my mouth despite the pain. “So, you thought about me all morning.”

“Yeah, I thought about all the ways I could hurt you with them. Fair’s, fair.”

I cross to the cupboard, gather up the first-aid kit, and snag a bottle of whiskey before dropping into the wooden chair at the kitchen table.

The gash sits on the back of my bicep which is too awkward in its position to fix one-handed.

“Harrington,” I say, unscrewing the whiskey cap. “Get over here.”

She raises her cuffed wrists again and gives me a sugary-sweet smile. “Read the sign, Tallon. It says ‘fuck you’.”

While the word fuck rolls off her tongue with enough sass to tingle across my scalp, I take a long swig of whiskey to dull the rawness.

“I’m not asking,” I say, thumping the bottle down. “Move. Now.”

She lifts her wrists with a theatrical flutter. “Sorry… I’m all tied up.”

“I’ll take them off.”

“I’m enjoying the movie.”

I let out a low grunt that isn’t quite a laugh.

“Fine. Stay put. But once I’m sorted, I’ll rope your ankles, drag you into the heath, and let ya see how long your attitude lasts alone out there.”

She stands with a dramatic sigh, blanket falling away, and pads barefoot toward me. “What you’re actually saying is that you need my help.”

“Nope.” I lean back in the chair, letting her see just how unbothered I want to look. “If I needed help, my brothers would be here.”

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “Then why aren’t they?”

“Because,” I say, holding her gaze as I reach for the key, “I’d rather deal with ya alone.”

She stands a few feet away, close enough that I can smell her clean hair and the faint sweetness of the whiskey from last night.

I hold the cuff key loose in my fingers and let my gaze trail over her. “Be a good little Harrington and come closer. I can’t unlock ya from over there.”

Her pupils blow wide, all inky and framed by sparkling irises.

She hates that.

Good.

“You’re a prick,” she snaps.

My mouth almost curves to a grin as she walks toward me, one angry, graceful stride at a time until she’s within reach.

I take her hands, turn the key in the lock, and the cuffs fall open. Before she can step back, I catch her jaw in my fingers and yank her face closer to mine, her breath brushing my mouth.

“There’s a lot of bad words coming out of this mouth of yours today.”

Her breathing deepens, chest rising against the charged air between us.

“It’s your fault,” she whispers.

I release her and get to my feet, moving forward so she instinctively backs up so her ass hits the counter. She braces both palms behind her, eyes never leaving mine.

I plant a hand either side of her hips on the counter and cage her in. Blood’s still running down my arm. Neither of us mentions it.