Page 63 of Lawless Rivals

“Shay,” he says, already shifting in the saddle to make space, “give her a leg up behind me.”

Rafe looks between us, eyes narrowing.

“You’re on first-name terms now?” His mouth twists. “What exactly happened out here, Saint?”

Saint plucks the cigarette from his lips and exhales a lungful of smoke while Shay helps me mount. Once I’m settled, he gathers the reins and nudges Bran forward.

“Names don’t change blood, Rafe.” The words are flat. “Blood is blood.”

My lips still carry the pressure of his, and heat creeps up my throat as I brush my fingertips over them, remembering how badly I’d wanted him. For those few minutes beside the fire, I let myself believe he wanted me, not the Harrington he’d kidnapped as leverage.

He never forgot.

And I won’t give him the chance to make me forget again.

Chapter 17

Saint

Keira dismounts, and before I’ve even swung my leg over the saddle, she’s already marching across the yard, heading straight for my cabin.

Rafe lets out a low whistle. “You gonna let her walk about like she owns the place?”

I glare at my brother. Once my boots hit the concrete, Shay steps in on my left and takes the reins from my hand.

“You’d better get changed before ya end up with pneumonia,” he mutters.

“Yeah.”

I light a cigarette, dragging smoke deep into my lungs, ignoring the pulse hammering in my throat.

“Give me an hour and we’ll get back to business. I wanna know who the fuck those men were out there.”

I drag hard on the cigarette and start for the cabin. The yard noise fades behind me with every step, and by the time I reach the porch, I’m ready for a hot shower.

After a few more pulls, I flick the cigarette and grind it out before heading inside.

I kick off my boots and peel off my socks, breath coming faster, skin still raw with cold.

Every inch of me prickles from what’s left of the wind’s bite, but it’s nothing compared to the chill when I remind myself who I kissed.

With the bathroom door shut, the sound of rushing water splashes from behind it.

She’s in there, warm and naked.

And that kiss... Fuck, it haunts me.

Her mouth opening under mine, that small hesitation before she gave in, the way her body pressed close enough to make me forget what she is.

My pulse kicks hard against my throat.

Kissing her was a mistake. A spark in a powder keg. I knew that before I touched her.

My teeth knock together before I clamp my jaw shut.

She’s alone in the shower, steam on her skin, and I remember how easily I’d ignored where she came from.

My pulse climbs.