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.
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.
“You’ve been making this difficult from the second I put ya in that car,” I say against her lips. “You know that?”
“You’re an asshole…” she rasps. “What happened to Tallons hating Harringtons?”
I pull back just far enough to look at her. Her lips are red, her eyes blown dark, water streaming down her face.
There’s defiance in her glare but underneath it, underneath the Harrington pride, there’s something raw and real that she doesn’t know how to hide right now.
I sense the war in her. The anger clashing with need. Her soft skin is slippery under the water, her breasts squashed against my chest, nipples hard peaks that make me groan.
“Tell me ya don’t want this,” I growl against her neck, biting to mark her, to claim what I know I shouldn’t. “Tell me.”
She shudders, one leg hitching higher, her body seeking friction even as she glares at me like she’d rather burn than admit it.
The hunger inside me twists tighter and there’s no fucking way to stop it.
Rather than answer, her mouth collides with mine, and she slips her tongue into my mouth.
This isn’t kissing anymore—it’s combat. Teeth, breath, need.
She bites my lip until I taste iron, and when I pull back a fraction, her eyes blaze with that lethal mix of Harrington haughtiness and lust that drags a growl from my chest.
I spin her around, pressing her cheek to the tile, my body caging hers.
“You wanted to know what kind of man I am.” My mouth finds the curve of her neck, teeth grazing. “Now you’re going to find out.”
She shudders and pushes back against me. I fist her wet hair, gathering it in one hand, tilting her head to expose the line of her throat. My other hand slides from her stomach, dropping lower, until my fingers part her folds and find her clit.
“Saint…”
“You’re into this, princess, aren’t ya?”
I work two fingers into her and grind the heel of my palm against her clit, feeling exactly how much she wants this despite everything she’s fought and thrown at me for days.
“Is it because I shouldn’t be touching ya?”
While she’s panting, hips rocking back against me, chasing the pressure, I take my time. Her cunt clamps around my fingers every time I curl them.
Not because I’m patient. I’m not, not with her, not anymore.
But because I want her undone before I take her. I want every wall she has around her stripped away so there’s nothing left but this.
“Tell me to stop,” I say against her ear, my fingers stilling just enough to be cruel. “Tell me before I go too far.”
“Damn it… If you stop.” Her voice is wrecked, barely above the sound of the water. “I really will stab you.”
A short involuntary laugh breaks out of me.
“I hate you, Saint Tallon,” she hisses, but she pushes her ass against me, grinding herself over my throbbing cock.
It jerks against her, so hard the pressure borders on pain. Every reason I shouldn’t want her vanishes beneath the slow roll of her hips until there’s nothing in my head but fucking her against the tiles. No woman has ever stripped me down to pure instinct like this.
Keira Harrington should be the last woman capable of it. But fuck, I want her.
“I know, princess,” I force out through clenched teeth.
I yank her hips back so she bends forward, fist my cock and notch the head of it against her entrance, dragging it through her slick until she’s shaking.
There’s no foreplay, no teasing games. Just two people who’ve circled each other too long and have to give in to the attraction.
I thrust in deep and hard, burying myself to the hilt.
She cries out, a raw sound that’s half agony, half ecstasy, her inner walls squeezing around me like she needs more but hates submitting at the same time.
“Yes…” She moans. “Fucking yes.”
Each slam of my hips is fueled by years of Harrington hatred and the desire for a woman I can’t have.
I continue to thrust in and out, fisting her soaked hair, tilting her head back to expose her throat for my teeth, the other hand sliding between her thighs to circle her clit.
“You’re so responsive,” I pant.
“And you’re... Oh God...” She gasps, her body betraying her fury with every quiver, every moan she tries to bite back.
The water hammers over us, our skin slapping together loud enough to echo off the tile. I feel her let go—her cunt clamping hard with rolling pulses, that tightness sucking my dick in and her breathless surrender almost undoes me.
I drive in deeper.
“You like that, huh?” I say, voice gravel-like. “Coming on my dick when ya shouldn’t.”
Her whole body locks, inner walls clamping around me, a moan panting out of her. Jesus fuck, the noises she makes will haunt me for weeks whether I want them to or not.
I keep the pace, not ready to follow her yet, driving in harder as I grit my teeth against the pressure building at the base of my spine.
Then she grabs my hand and presses it over her breast.