Perfect Rage (Unyielding 3)

He hesitated then something gave as his expression and the lines around his mouth eased. He didn’t respond. Instead, he kissed me. It was brief and hard, but it was enough to tell me that he’d missed me too.

He sat up. “Shirt.”

He gripped the bottom edge of my camisole and I half lifted as he pulled it over my head then tossed it aside. He crossed his arms and yanked his black T-shirt over his head and I was left staring at his naked muscled chest. My eyes trailed over his beautiful tattoos over his left pectoral, to his shoulder and down his bicep to his elbow. He’d told me it took ten sessions for the artist to complete the intricate tattoo. What I hadn’t seen was a new one under his left arm and down his ribs. I was unable to see all of it, but I caught a glimpse of what looked like numbers within a web of complex lines.

My eyes hit his hard abdomen then traveled back up again. Connor was breathtaking. Always had been. He just did it for me.

The type of guy who you see across the room and know there is something between you. An energy. A connection.

My eyes cut to his cargo pants that sat perfectly on his hips, cock straining against the material.

Connor was here. He was here and he remembered.

I trailed my fingertips down the center of his chest to the cusp of his pants. My eyes lifted to his and his nostrils flared and eyes burned as he watched me. I popped the button through the slit and his chest expanded as his breath caught.

My body was an inferno as the anticipation built, ready to explode the moment he finally sank inside me again.

He was on his knees, hands resting on his thighs, but they weren’t resting; they were strained and tight.

I dragged down his zipper, my fingers brushing against his hard bulge. He stiffened. Eyes widening for a second, he exhaled as the zipper reached the end. Only then did my eyes leave his and go to his cock, rock hard and pushing against the black cotton material.

I grazed my knuckles over the hard bulge. Up. Then down again. Barely touching, but enough to feel it jerk.

I swallowed. Almost afraid to end the anticipation and yet unable to control my need any longer and by the sound of his ragged breathing, neither was he.

I slipped my hand in his boxer briefs and he sucked in air then groaned as my fingers enclosed around his heated cock.

“Fuck!” Connor roared and it was loud. Really loud.

A door slammed.

I froze.

Connor stiffened.

It sounded like the side door, the basement apartment. “I think it’s—”

His eyes landed on me and he shook his head once.

I shut up. I was going to tell him about the guy who lived downstairs who was expected back any day, but I was worried that it was Ernie.

He lifted, grabbed my wrist, yanked my hand from his pants, tossed me to the side and climbed to his feet. He reached over to the nightstand, eyes never leaving the door as he snagged the gun off the surface.

A gun? When had he put a gun there? What scared me was why he had one.

I hated guns. I knew how to shoot and had grown up around them and I never had an issue until that day Carlos forced me to choose. Ever since, I felt sick whenever I saw one or heard the loud bang. But worse than both of those was the smell in the air after a gun fired. I’d never forget that smell.

I sat up as he strode to the door, opened it then disappeared.

He was gone for maybe three minutes, but it felt like forever and I was nervous. He obviously didn’t want anyone to know he was here and I was uncertain the lengths he’d go to make sure that happened.

I didn’t hear him come back down the hallway. He suddenly appeared in the doorway, gun at his side.

I scooted up the bed as he stalked across the room toward me. He set the gun back on the nightstand then his hands went to the waist of his pants and he lowered them.

I wanted to ask if everything was okay, but I didn’t because he was taking off his pants and he wouldn’t be doing that if everything wasn’t okay.

My lips parted and breath hitched as I watched him bend, step out of them then move to his boxer briefs. With this, he was quicker as he shoved them down his muscular thighs and stepped out of them.

There was no insecurity with Connor. No inhibition as he stood in front of me naked. He’d never been shy about his body and I loved that about him, even if at the time he’d been annoyingly cocky about it.