Page 123 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

I wait for him to finish his insincere apology.

“I’m sorry I had to leave before I started caring too much. I’m sorry I walked away so that I wouldn’t spend the rest of my life chasing a girl instead of my dreams. I’m sorry you made leaving so fucking hard that I had to cut all ties with you.

“I’m sorry it was the only way to make sure that I wouldn’t drop everything and come running back the second I heard your voice. I’m sorry, Hads, I really am… But if I hadn’t left when I did, I wouldn’t have left at all.”

My chest hurts, my lungs hurt, my entire body hurts, and I don’t know how to make it stop.

He stares me dead in the eyes. “Your turn.”

I can barely form a sentence, let alone an undeserved apology. “W-What?”

He invades my space until I can feel his breath hit my mouth. “Now you apologize to me.”

“I don’t have anything to apologize for.”

A hateful scoff slips from his lips, his tone accusatory as he spits, “You ruined fame for me. I should’ve been on top of the fucking world after I left. I should’ve been spending every waking moment reveling in my new life, enjoying the money, the attention, the fans, but all I could do was think about you. Did I kiss you and bail? Yes, but you have to know you fucked me up more than I could’ve ever hurt you.

“You ruined my life by not being in it, Hadley. So, yes, fucking apologize to me.”

My heart is pounding uncontrollably.

I sure as hell didn’t expect that.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Yeah?” he asks, darkness trickling into his gaze as he leans in and rasps, “Prove it.”

I part my lips to ask him how.

Only, I don’t get a chance.

Because he jerks my head forward and crushes his lips to mine.

There are kisses…

And then there are make-the-earth-shake kisses.

It doesn’t even take me a second to know this one falls under the second category.

My hands shoot up to his shirt from the moment our mouths slam together, grasping at the fabric as if to keep from collapsing.

Sure enough, my knees nearly give out, but Kane’s hands drop to my waist, clutching my body in a tight grip as he pries my teeth apart with his tongue.

This isn’t happening, my pride screams, but my body’s already answered his call, and when a noise I can only describe as carnal tears from his throat, I put my voice of reason in time-out.

His lips are soft, but his kiss is ravenous, all-consuming, and painfully addictive, making our first kiss in the shed look like a mere preview of the real deal.

We’re not kids anymore.

There is no mistaking the desperation in the way his mouth slides against mine. Our tongues tangle together, and any ounce of resistance is drained from my body.

Kane’s tongue thrusts deeper, owning every secret and lie to have ever escaped my mouth.

“Are you sorry?” he growls against my parted lips.

We’re already chasing the next kiss, the next touch, and I trap his hair in my fist, pulling on the brown strands.

“I’m sorry,” I pant, but it sounds like I’m begging him, and the low growl sounding in his throat mixes with my plea.

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