Page 93 of Lawless Rivals

I can’t tell.

All I know is that he hasn’t moved his leg and I’m still frozen, pretending I haven’t noticed, or that I don’t care.

Truth is, I feel the connection everywhere. And it’s knocking me off balance.

After a while, I decide it’s best to slide my foot away, breaking contact until there’s nothing left but the absence of it.

I lie there in the space I’ve made, staring at the shadows, my heart beating too fast for someone who should be asleep, my body too aware of where he is, of where we aren’t touching anymore.

And that absence is haunting me.

I tell myself the moment is over, that it’s passed, but the ache in my core doesn’t follow logic and sits there suspended, waiting to see if he’ll make a move.

The problem isn’t that I want him to close the distance. It’s that I’d let him.

I return my pillow to under my head and lie flat, daring a quick glance over to find the whites of his eyes directed at the ceiling.

I’m pissed at myself for wanting him. And for letting him in too many times already that I’m struggling to keep him out now.

I hate the way this choice feels like punishment, and rather than it being his, it’s become mine.

We lie next to each other in silence, generating body heat but not sleep. At some point, he sits up, throws the duvet off and moves to the end of the bed, jangling his belt buckle as he pulls on his jeans.

The mattress lifts as he stands, and I watch him pull his shirt over his head and take in how the muscles tense beneath the skin on his back. Now I can’t unsee it.

He stuffs his feet into his boots and runs a hand through his messy, thick black hair.

A day’s worth of new stubble shadows his jaw, and his presence takes up every corner.

Before he heads out into the dark, he shrugs into his coat, digs out a packet of smokes and a lighter from the pocket, then shoves the door open.

Cold air rushes in for a second, skimming over my face and settling into the empty space beside me.

“Are you heading back to the yard?” I ask, propping myself up on my elbows.

“It’s too dark,” he says. “Anyway, I’m not leaving without ya. You go where I go. Remember?”

He glances over at me.

“Once Crowley’s men have searched the yard, we’ll head back. Your da still hasn’t signed. It’s time to turn the screw.”

“What about your mother?”

“I’m not scared of my ma, princess.”

When he steps out and shuts the door behind him, I let my head fall back to the pillow and listen to the lighter flint spark.

He’s put space between himself and me on purpose.

Deep down, I’m foolishly disappointed and impatiently waiting for the door to open again.

Chapter 25

Saint

I must’ve had two hours of sleep. If even.

Getting into that cramped bed and lying next to Keira tested me more than I’m willing to admit.