Perfect Rage (Unyielding 3)

“The cats come running whenever I walk into the barn. There’s this little grey guy called Jiggy, because he does this little jig with his back legs before he takes off running. It’s like he gets revved up.” He leaned closer and my breath hitched as he gently kissed my belly button. Then he went back to drawing.

“I thought I’d go to the cat rescue on Saturday, see if there’s one that wants to come home with me.”

“They’ll all want to come home with you, baby,” he said while his focus remained on my abdomen.

Then I blurted, “Will you come with me?” It was a long shot. I mean I hadn’t intended on asking him, and I had no idea if he even liked cats, but I wanted him with me and it was doing something normal together.

His finger glided along the edge of my jeans from one hip to the other. “To adopt a cat?”

I nodded.

“Anyone else going?”

“No.”

“It’s important to you?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

It was a good ten seconds before he said, “Okay, baby.”

“Okay?” He’d come with me? I hadn’t expected him to say yes. A smidge of hope rose that maybe there was a chance for us.

“No orange.”

“Huh?”

“No orange cats.”

I bit my lip, trying to control my laughter. Oh, my God, he really hated orange. I didn’t care what color cat I brought home, so it didn’t matter to me. “But I kind of had my heart set on an orange one,” I teased. “The oranger the better.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Oranger?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. And maybe we could call him Orangey.”

His was on top of me before I had the chance to get away, his hands digging into my sides, weight pinning me down as he tickled me.

I screamed. “Stop. Connor, stop.” I wiggled and squirmed beneath him, half laughing, half screaming.

“No fuckin’ orange cats.”

“Oh, my God. Connor. Stop,” I yelled while giggling.

“Alina,” he growled. The sound was fierce, but the undertone was playful.

I was going to pee my pants if he didn’t stop. “Okay. Okay. No orange cats.”

The tickling stopped and I was breathing hard while he stared down at me grinning.

Grinning.

His hard cock pressed into my pelvis and there was unmistakable desire flaring in the depths of his eyes.

I slowly ran my tongue over my lips and his gaze followed. Curling my fingers into his shirt, I urged him closer, but he resisted.

Shit, the grin was gone and his brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t give up on me, Alina. You’ve been through hell, too, and I don’t deserve you. Fuck, I destroyed your kitchen this morning. I can’t stand seeing you with other guys. I dragged you from a bar. I fuck you and disappear. I’m a complete, messed-up asshole.” He closed his eyes, sighing. “I’m lost, baby. I’m so fuckin’ lost and you’re the only one to keep me from disintegrating.” He lowered his head, lips a breath away from me as he murmured, “I can’t ever lose you again.”

“I’m here, Connor,” I whispered. “I’m right here.”

His lips met mine and he kissed me. It was a combination of desperation with gentle warmth. And he controlled everything about it.

Connor took his time slowly undressing me.

Then took his time tasting me until my screams echoed in the air and I quivered against his mouth. That was when he put on a condom, flipped me so I was on top of him and I lowered onto his hard, throbbing cock.

I rode him fast like the bikes on the track. And it wasn’t long before both of us were trembling in one another’s arms as we came together.“You should be taking photos, not serving drunk assholes.” I hated this. I hated dropping her off at a bar knowing she’d have guys looking at her all night. It was ludicrous thinking, but I couldn’t help it.

I never used to be the jealous type. I was too full of myself for that shit, but this wasn’t exactly jealousy. This was about keeping her safe. I had this constant pit in my gut that someone was going to take her away from me again.

But what was worse, dropping her off two blocks away from Avalanche because I knew Deck and his men would be looking for us after what happened this morning.

I didn’t like Alina having to walk to the bar by herself. I should be with her, damn it.

She passed me the helmet and I strapped it on the back as she said, “I don’t want to take pictures anymore. And I like my job.”

That was complete bullshit.

A passion like that didn’t die. It was ingrained in you, a part of you. Alina had looked at the world through a lens and saw shit that others didn’t. She saw beauty when there wasn’t any. She fuckin’ made beauty when there wasn’t any. She captured life in her photographs.