I pulled up the pictures of her that I’d taken when she wasn’t looking. A distraction from my anger, a cold breeze to my fire. I’d taken a picture of her against my chest when she was dead asleep. Another one of her when she’d rolled over to the other side of the bed and kicked away the sheets because she was warm. The top of her ass was visible above the sheet, the small muscles of her back hugging her spine. The curve in her lower back was prominent when she didn’t even try. I had another one of her t**s because I’d gently pulled the sheet down to expose them, plump and hard, n*****s sharp as knives. I flicked through them all, feeling the heat start to burn under my skin from desire rather than rage.
By the time I arrived home, I didn’t want to kill anyone.
I walked in, took the eleva
