Page 182 of Anger

Thankfully, the topic change works. Heat colors Blue’s cheeks a shade of red, and I return my attention to the road.

“Nothing,” she lies.

Nothing, my ass.

This woman’s mind is a lot like mine: dirty and wild, angry and unpredictable. Not only that but Blue likes to play dominant, at least until my mouth is between her legs and she’s moaning so loud I can feel the vibration of it roll through her body to my tongue.

While there are plenty of benefits to the way she thinks, there are a ton of problems that come with it as well. Especially, the issue with dominance.

Only one can rule in my world … me.

She just has yet to submit to that.

To say it’s frustrating as fuck is an understatement.

And to say it also turns me the fuck on is just skimming the surface.

When she finally arrived at Tanner’s, after being interrogated by four guys she’d barely met, Blue wasn’t frazzled and shaking like most people would be. No. The woman was electric by the time I grabbed her arm and dragged her to the back of his place where I planned on tearing into her for not answering a phone call.

But for her to tear back into me? Over a phone call? Something so stupid, after everything I’ve done…

That was when I remembered why Blue’s perfect for me.

She’s not afraid to fight.

Not for herself.

Not for her friends.

And as she beginning to prove, not for me.

Only one other person has fought for me before. And that same person was also forced to fight against me.

In a way, Ezra and I have been fighting each other ever since, and the loneliness it has caused is difficult to explain. I certainly didn’t understand it. Not until Emily’s return.

But then Blue came along and filled those empty spaces with the lash of her quick wit, and her stubborn refusal to back down.

She knew me from the day she first laid eyes on me. At least that’s what she always claimed.

It’s a pity that I know who she is, too.

I’m beginning to see that we’re one in the same.

“You wouldn’t happen to be thinking about my fingertips tracing down the sides of your body?”

Pausing for a second, I add, “Or the way they dig in to your hips when I take control?”

“Not that,” she answers a little too quickly.

The corner of my mouth quirks. She shuffles her position in the seat to look out the side window.

“Okay,” I say slowly, keeping my voice as casual as possible, “how about when my hands grip your legs, forcing them so far apart, your tendons burn from the stretch? You let out a small gasp from the feel of it, and I want to bite your lip because of that sound, but you won’t let me near your mouth.”

Blue’s voice is slightly strained. “Nope.”

She still refuses to look at me.

Nodding my head, my fingers tighten over the wheel, the engine revving harder when I give it more gas around a curve.

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