Page 151 of Lawless Rivals

Despite knowing I should leave and head straight for the airport, my fingers curl into his shirt.

His lips move over mine, and the restraint in it breaks something open that force never could.

Until his hand fists in my hair and he kisses me as if he’s been starved of it, walking me backward into the wall, his thigh shoving between mine.

“Fuck,” he says against my mouth. “I haven’t been right since ya left.”

My phone vibrates in the outside pocket of my bag.

Breathing hard, I pull away and take it out.

Fionn: If you didn’t get on the jet, then you went to him.

My stomach drops because he knows. And I’ve no idea what my father will do with that information.

Chapter 38

Keira

No one looks at the men posted near the doors, though everyone gives them room.

Around me, champagne flutes pass from tray to hand, and the conversations rise. Tonight, the racetrack has opened its doors to the South of Ireland’s wealthiest breeders, councilors, developers, and men who prefer their influence kept off paper.

Saint’s lips graze the shell of my ear. “You keep watching the door.”

“So do you.”

“I’m not watching for him.”

I take a sip of champagne and meet his gaze when he straightens. “He always comes to events like these, even if you’re heading them.”

“Maybe your da knows he’s not gonna win this time. He doesn’t run things the way he used to.”

“Because you do?”

His thumb presses against my waist. “I always have, princess.”

A councilor near the fireplace looks at Saint’s hand where it rests against my bare arm, then at Saint’s face, and suddenly finds his wife’s bracelet fascinating when Saint returns his stares.

One of the older breeders lifts his glass in our direction and looks away after nodding at Saint.

I keep my shoulders square and my chin level, though part of me wants to go back to the cabin and spend the evening alone with Saint. The hot impulse races beneath my skin, but I chose to stand next to him in public.

If they want proof that the rumors are true, they can watch me give it to them.

I skate my finger along the lapels of the tailored jacket covering his black shirt and press myself against his chest. “Maybe we should really give them something to talk about?”

As his hand slides to my ass and squeezes, he lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me. Heat spreads through me so quickly I have to curl my fingers into his lapel to keep my balance.

“One hour,” he says against my mouth. “Then I’m taking ya home.”

Across the hall, Rafe mutters something to Dane that earns him a sharp look.

Rafe watches us with his glass near his mouth, his stare moving from me to Saint as if he is still trying to decide where to put all the hate.

“Rafe’s finding it hard to accept us,” I say.

“He doesn’t have to accept it,” Saint says, stroking a lock of hair back from my face. “He only has to respect my choice or answer to me.”