Page 112 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

“I don’t need your pity gifts,” I spit.

He looks at me like I’m bonkers. “Are you fucking with me? You’re actually mad right now?”

“I’m not mad, I’m just… I hate owing people.”

He inches forward. “You don’t owe me shit. Consider it my contribution to starting your business.”

“I never asked you to contribute,” I fire back.

“So? I want to do it. I was even thinking of giving you a shout-out on social media once your store goes live. You know, just to get the ball rolling.”

“Absolutely not!” I protest.

“Why not? There’s nothing wrong with letting a friend help you out.”

A friend?

Did he just call himself my friend?

A bitter laugh escapes me. “It seems we have some wires crossed here, so let me clear things up.” I fill the space between us, craning my neck to get a good look at him. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression that night in the sunroom, but you and I? We’re not friends. We were friends. But then you left and made it clear you didn’t give two shits about me. You think you can just go around throwing money at me and I’ll forget that you went radio silent on me for five years?”

My outburst seems to irritate him, his jaw clenching as he nods. “Fine. We’re not friends.”

I expect our back-and-forth to stop there, but he shocks me by moving closer, crowding my space and positioning his mouth next to my ear. “But we’re something. Or did you already forget the sounds you were making when you were rubbing your ass all over my cock?”

His words siphon the air out of my lungs.

His breath tickles my earlobe, sharp and hot as it brushes against the side of my neck. “You can hate me, Hads. You can call me selfish and arrogant and every fucking name you can think of, but you don’t get to deny the way your body reacts to me. No fucking way.”

Oh.

My.

God.

“Y-You’re delusional” is all I manage to say.

“Some friendly advice—don’t lie to me. I promise you’re not going to like what I do to get the truth out of you.”

I open my mouth, my brain concocting a scathing response, but he steps back the next second, looping his wet arm around my waist and clutching my body to his.

His wet chest soaks the front of my uniform, but the freezing water isn’t enough to put out the tiny fires igniting on my skin.

“Nothing is ever going to happen between us, you got me?” I spit out defensively, and I’m relieved that my mouth is still operated by my brain. My body surely isn’t. If it were, I’d have pushed him away by now.

He lets out a low, raspy laugh, staring me dead in the eyes as he says, “Fuck, am I going to have the time of my life proving you wrong.”

Another gasp falls from my lips when he slowly drags the backs of his index and middle fingers up the side of my arm.

I’m not sure I like this version of him.

The one who knows what he wants.

Not so long ago, he was acting like getting anywhere near me would be the end of the world. But now? It’s like whatever was holding him back went up in flames when we had that… moment… in the kitchen.

“What happened to the guy who runs out of the room to avoid me?”

His tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip. “He got tired of running. Now he’s ready to chase.”

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