Page 113 of Lawless Rivals

“I’m fine,” she says. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He nods and pulls me away, guiding me along the path toward the cabin. As we leave his family behind, he doesn’t let go.

When his place comes into view, my pulse kicks hard.

He steps aside and lets me go in first. I hesitate on the threshold, not because I don’t know what’s inside, but because I know exactly what going in means.

Inside, the air holds the faint trace of him, of the hunger that hasn’t settled between us. I take a few steps and glance over my shoulder, catching him watching me.

One hand braces against the frame, shoulders filling the space, his gaze steady, fixed on me.

“It’s not a secret anymore, then,” I say.

He pushes off the frame, comes inside, and closes the door.

“Oh yeah. What’s the secret?” He takes off his jacket and hangs it on a hook.

While I shrug off the coat I’m wearing, my gaze drifts over his lips, the pull of him tightening low in my body. “Your family’s figured out you like Alasdair Harrington’s daughter.”

His eyes narrow at that. He drags his thumb across his bottom lip as he stands there, his gaze locked on mine.

“They’ve got no idea what this is, Keira.”

My breath catches, but I don’t move. “Why don’t you tell me what this is?”

His jaw muscles clench. And that’s all the warning I get.

He covers the distance in two confident strides, his hand coming to my neck, and then his mouth is on mine.

It presses hard, as if he’s done holding it back, done pretending this is a situation he can manage from a distance.

The force of it pushes me backward before I answer it, my hands fisting his shirt, pulling him closer.

He grunts against my mouth, rougher, dirtier than anything he’s let slip before, and it goes straight through me, scorching my veins.

His hand jumps from my neck to my waist, locking me in place against him.

My body reacts as it always does, pressing into his, matching the need, taking what he’s giving and returning it just as hard.

Keeping a distance isn’t an option anymore.

His boots scuff as he turns me without breaking the kiss, driving me deeper inside until my calves hit the couch. His arm comes around my waist, and he dips me lower.

Lying flat, he climbs on top, his hand bracing beside my head, trapping me beneath him.

Air leaves my lungs in a rush when he pulls back just enough to look at me, his forehead close to mine, his breath uneven against my mouth.

Neither of us moves, and then his eyes flick to my mouth.

“I knew you’d be trouble the second I kissed ya at the gala.”

“You knew it… and you didn’t stop yourself.”

His hand comes up, closing around my jaw, and his mouth crashes over mine, the kiss all wet heat and pressure.

Our lips move, slower now but hungrier, both of us crossing the line all over again.

“I’m not stopping now,” he says into my mouth.