Perfect Rage (Unyielding 3)

“Alina,” he drawled.

Connor took my camera, gently snapped on the lens cover and set it on the blanket beside us. Then he wrapped his fingers around my wrists and eased my arms above my head, locking them down with one hand.

His brows lifted and he grinned, dimples accentuating. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I hit you with the soccer ball.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. But then I also wanted to spank your ass and put you back on a plane.” He lowered himself agonizingly slow.

I inhaled and exhaled hard and fast, chest rising and falling irregularly as his weight sank into mine and I sighed at the feel of him.

I licked my lips and his eyes darted to my tongue then back to my eyes. “Fuck, Alina.”

A wave of heat settled over me as he whispered my name, his lips a breath away from mine. Oh, my God, I wanted him to kiss me. I’d never felt such an uncontrollable need in my life, a need so strong, I’d do anything to make certain he finished what he started.

Anything.

His playful grin vanished, and desire smoldered in his eyes. Our lips were so close I smelled the salt from the chips and I wanted to taste it on my tongue.

“Damn it, kiss me,” I said, yanking on my wrists to get free and pull his head down to mine.

I expected a chuckle, but his brows dipped and he murmured, “I’ll give you any-fuckin’-thing you want, Alina.”

His mouth slammed down on mine and his weight dropped.

Our mouths entwined in a flurry of need. After five days of denying, our boundaries ruptured with a single kiss.

Staining.

That was what kind of kiss it was—staining.

His mouth imprinted as his lips roamed with purpose. A demand. A control. And I succumbed. I fell into the erotic web of Connor. And I knew from the moment he made his move and kissed me that without a doubt, I’d fallen for him.

Five days. I’d fallen for him in five days.

But whatever this was. It was temporary. We both knew that.

“Baby,” he murmured against my mouth. “Get out of your head.”

“Huh?”

He half smiled. “Just be here with me now.”

He was right, but it was easier said than done. I understood that was how Connor lived, in the now and not worried too much about tomorrow, but I thought things through. I contemplated. I worried.

He sprinkled kisses along my chin, down my neck then along my collarbone. I moaned, arching into him, fingernails digging into my palms. “Connor.”

“I didn’t plan this.” He slid his hand down my side to my waist then back up again, bringing the material with him so it bunched beneath my underarms. Palm on my skin, thumb stroking back and forth over my ribs, his hand moved under my bra. “Can’t plan something like this.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist. He groaned as his cock pressed up against my pelvis and then his mouth was on mine again.

His hand slipped in my bra, finger flicking over my erect nipple. I gasped, body tensing as a wave of intense pleasure soared through me. God, his hands were gentle yet touched me with certainty. Confident and skilled, just like his mouth.

“Let me go,” I murmured.

He instantly broke away, sitting up, eyes wide and concerned. “Babe? Are you not good with this?”

I reached for him, fingers curling in the bottom edge of his T-shirt. “Let my wrists go. I want to touch you.”

Relief crossed his face. “Jesus. I thought you weren’t into it.”

It was cute, Connor being apprehensive, and I was betting that didn’t happen very often. “I’m into you.” I slowly shimmied his shirt up and it untucked from the waist of his cargo pants. My knuckles brushed up against his hard abdomen and he sucked in air. “I’m way into you.” I smiled, liking that I caused that reaction. I lifted farther and farther until he finished yanking it over his head.

“God, how do you get a body like this,” I exclaimed as I ran my hands down his chest, muscles bulging beneath my touch.

He half grinned and said, “Need to run faster than bullets, shutterbug.”

I hated to think of any bullets being shot at him.

I caressed his skin, my fingers tracing the tattoo on his shoulder, to his chest and down his left side. Intricate lines of black etched into his skin, carving across his body and accentuating his exquisiteness.

When my hands reached the belt of his cargo pants, his hands landed on mine, curling around them and dragging them away.

“Alina. I didn’t bring you to my room so I could fuck you. I like spending time with you. I just wanted privacy for us to talk and”—he smirked—“to kiss you if I was lucky enough.”

I lifted my brows. “I know.” And I did, because Connor was pretty straight up and I was sure he could’ve charmed me into his bed on day two.