Page 2 of Second Shot

Everyone loveshim.

Women.

Fans.

Themedia.

Especially myfather.

I snort, and shake myhead.

Kane is the son he always wanted. A son he could be proud of. And he’d made it known to Sam every chance he got. He never understood my brother, and he definitely never acceptedhim.

And now he’s gone –forever.

“You think you’re so perfect, don’t you?” I cringe at the slight slur of my words, and when I speak again I try extra hard to pronounce each syllable carefully, but I’m pretty sure it just comes out forced. “You get everything you want. Don’t you,goldenboy?”

I curl my lips as I hiss the nickname my father gave him ten years ago when he was still playing in the juniors. A name that stuck even after he was drafted to theNHL.

Kane “The Golden Boy”Madden.

In the world’s eyes, Kane Madden can do no wrong. But I know better. I know exactly who heis.

My worst enemy.The man who took my brother fromme.

Kane’s eyes narrow. “You’ve beendrinking.”

“So?” I jut my chin out at him defiantly. I don’t usually drink, but tonight I finished an entire bottle of Chardonnay before calling an Uber to comehere.

And it feelsgood.

It feels fucking terrific to finally letgo.

“You’re the last person who should be judgingme.”

“I’m not judging,” he says past a frown, taking a small step back so he’s no longer touchingme.

I feel the loss of his heat immediately, and my bodyprotests.

Kane rakes his hand through his thick, dark hair, and I have an urge to do the same, to feel those silky strands between my fingers as his face is buried between mythighs.

I lick my lips, and a small, silent moan builds in mychest.

“Brynne,” Kane says sharply, his gazehard.

“What?”

“Why are youhere?”

Because I’m lonely. Because as much as I hate you, you’re the closest thing I have left to Sam. Because I feel numb all the time, but when I’m around you I finally feel again, even if it’s only anger. Because I can’t stop thinking about your mouth, your hands, yourbody.

Because I needyou.

A low growl rumbles from Kane’s chest, and it’s then that I realize I’d spoken the last four words outloud.

Shit.

“Brynne.” My name is a deep, guttural rasp. He moves swiftly, capturing me against the wall, his hands firmly planted on either side of my head, his body barely touching mine, but I can feel the heat of his skin burning through the layers of clothes betweenus.

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