Perfect Ruin (Unyielding #2)

I grabbed her around the waist, yanked her off her stool then had my knife to her throat within seconds. Her eyes widened and her breath stopped.

“Do you feel the trembling in your limbs, London? The blood rushing through your veins? The tightness in your chest as the edge of my blade rests against your throat?” She couldn’t nod because my knife would cut her. “That’s fear. And that’s dangerous.” I stroked my finger down her cheek. “You’re not ready to go anywhere with me.” And I didn’t know if she ever would be. But I couldn’t think of that. “I need you to do what I tell you. Stay here, eat a shitload so when I come back, I have some real hips to grab.”

I smirked. She didn’t.

“So I’m supposed to wait for you to come back or not come back because you’re dead?”

“I won’t die.”

She latched onto my wrist holding the knife, her grip harsh. She was pissed—good. She had to stand on her own and fight for what she wanted… except she’d never win against me.

“You’re not invincible, Kai.”

No, I wasn’t, but I excelled at staying alive. “Arguable.” I took my knife away from her throat then pulled her around so she straddled my lap.

When I saw her glare and that stubborn chin lifted, I couldn’t help it. I chuckled which caused her to punch my chest. “It’s not funny.”

“If I die, braveheart, I still won’t leave you.” And if I died, Ernie had instructions as to what to do about London—Deck. He was to be told everything and London taken to him.

“Death is pretty damn final. I don’t see you believing in the afterlife.”

I nipped the sensitive lobe of her ear. “Hmm, perhaps not.” I pushed her hair away from her neck with the tip of my knife then ran my tongue along her slender throat. Her breath hitched and her spine arched. Something about the rush of danger sent all the adrenaline right to my cock. I pulled back so I could see her eyes—flaming desire. I took hold of the collar of her shirt, which was one of mine, then sliced it down the center with my knife.

She gasped.

“If I die,” I slowly caressed her exposed nipple, not with my finger but with my knife, “a piece of you dies with me.” I laid the flat of my knife against her breast and pressed. “And you will never repair that part of you. But it goes both ways, braveheart.”

She moved closer to me, so the flat of the blade was pushed harder into her breast. She reached up and cupped the back of my neck. “I’d like to stay whole, so I’d prefer you to live.”

I placed my knife on the counter then undid my jeans and pulled out my throbbing cock. I reached around her and picked her up by the ass. She wrapped her legs around my hips, arms hooking my neck.

“Will you sleep naked when I’m gone so I can imagine you in our bed playing with yourself?” I pushed aside her panties and rubbed my cock through her wet *.

Her lips parted as she panted. “Yes.”

I jerked my hips forward and groaned as my cock sank into her tight warmth. She cried out at my harsh entrance, hands tightening in the strands of hair at the back of my neck. I buried my head in her shoulder as I whispered, “Don’t ever stop believing in me.”

Because I didn’t know what I’d do if she did.





THREE DAYS.

He’d left no phone, no computer access and no car. He knew I’d call my father or email him despite saying I wouldn’t.

So, I was left in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do except eat and watch movies then fall asleep every night on the couch.

I’d never been one to sit around and do nothing; even as a kid I was experimenting with different things to find out what would happen. It was my dad who insisted I learn to ride a bike when I was six years old when all the kids in the neighborhood were already on two wheelers.

I considered myself physically challenged with having played no sports. I’d been forced to play baseball as a freshman in gym and after my first throw, which was underhand and pathetic, I was benched most of the time.

Now, I wished I’d had some sort of natural talent at throwing, but for hours, I’d attempted to hit my mark with the knife. I’d hoped to impress Kai by practicing before he got back and being half decent. With the way it was going, there wouldn’t be any impressing.

He said he might be a couple weeks, so I was hoping by then I could at least hit the stupid tree trunk. I raised my arm and threw the knife again. It bounced off the surface of the tree and landed in the long, unkempt grass.

“Damn it all to hell.” I trudged across the field at the back of the house, the long grass swishing as the breeze ruffled the tops. I bent and picked up the knife then stabbed it into the bark. “There.”

I was frustrated, my arm muscles hurt and I missed him already. I slept on the couch because the bed reminded me of him, the sheets smelled like him and yet I took his pillow and curled up with it on the couch wearing one of his shirts.

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