Perfect Rage (Unyielding 3)

His hand slipped beneath my white camisole and I sucked in air. He caressed up my abdomen to my ribs, his fingers gently stroking beneath one breast. Then the other.

My insides quaked and burned. I wanted him to touch my breasts so goddamn bad.

His thumb brushed over my erect nipple. Once.

Twice.

Three times.

I whimpered and arched into him. “Please,” I begged.

I didn’t want gentle and slow anymore. I wanted uncontrolled and raw—unrestrained and powerful.

That was what we were. A desire that conquered.

He broke our kiss and hovered above me, his chest heaving in and out while he looked at me. I slid my hand up his arm to his shoulder then around to the back of his neck where I weaved my fingers into his hair.

His hair.

He’d had short-cropped hair when we first met, then in Colombia it was a little longer, but now the dirty-blond strands were unruly subtle waves and hung a couple of inches below his ears.

Playful like he was. Or had been. There was nothing playful in him anymore.

“Kiss me, Connor,” I said while tugging on his hair and attempting to bring his mouth back to mine, but he resisted.

He blinked several times then squinted and shook his head, dislodging my hand from his hair. His temples throbbed and his lips pursed. A low growl emerged and he ground out, “Fuuucck.”

My heart pounded as the agonizing sound ripped from his throat. “Connor?”

His thighs clamped mine as his body tightened, the muscles in his neck strained as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Connor? What’s wrong?” My stomach twisted and terror gripped me. What was happening? God, he looked as if he were in agony. “Connor? Please, you’re scaring me.”

Had I missed something? Was he hurt? My eyes and hands ran down his shirt looking for blood, anything that might explain what was wrong.

His eyes flashed open.

My breath hitched. The surfaces of his eyes were glassy and wet with a haunting darkness lingering behind the pain.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong?” I begged in a choked whisper as my hands moved up his abdomen to his chest.

He held my eyes for a few seconds before he lowered his head to rest it in the crook of my neck. His breathing heavy, palms flat on the mattress, elbows bent on either side of me at my shoulders holding some of his weight.

“Connor?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer or move for a minute.

When he finally lifted his head, he said, “Alina.”

Then his mouth found mine again. But this time, it was a gentle caress, tasting, savoring.

He nipped my lower lip then kissed the spot with a light playfulness. Then his kiss deepened, our mouths melded.

Whatever had caused that pained look had faded and I felt the give in his body as he relaxed, his hand now cupping the back of my neck, fingers bunched in my hair.

My belly was in a unending free fall, thighs trembling and between my legs quivering with the sweet squeezes. “I need you. I’ve always needed you.”

He broke from our kiss and pushed up, so his arms were straight. Then he stole my breath away when I saw the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth and his eyes sparked.

There.

Right there was the piece of Connor my heart ached for.

It had been hidden behind a shield of… rage. Memories. Agony. All of them tied together.

But within a flash it was gone again.

His hand tightened in my hair as he said, “I’m leaving. After tonight I won’t be back. I can’t, baby. What I did, who I am now… .” He paused, eyes darkening. “Nothing of this night passes your lips.”

“But we can get help. We can—”

His grip in my hair tightened as he scowled. “No. You’ll say nothing and I’m not staying. Do you understand me?”

I nodded. “Yes.” I’d do anything he asked of me and I’d take once over nothing. I’d always take once because I knew that life could throw a curve at any time. I knew what it was like to lose.

And I wasn’t losing this moment he was giving me.

“Connor?”

His scowl lingered and I wanted it gone. “Yeah?”

I ran my hand down his back and felt the scars, scars that hadn’t been there when we first met. My stomach twisted at the thought of what he’d been through.

“I left you that day, but I left me too. I left me with you.” He remained quiet so I continued, “When I dreamed, those dreams of you kept me sane when all I wanted to do was to go insane missing you.”

“Dreams that turned into nightmares,” he said between clenched teeth. “I fucked you and I hadn’t been nice about it.”

He had. “It was still you,” I said quietly.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

“And it’s you now,” I said then added in a whisper, “I missed you. I missed you every single day we weren’t together.”