Page 160 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

Holy shit.

Why do I feel like I just signed my own death warrant?

I try to school my expression, but my trembling voice gives me away. “To be fair, you ghosted me first.”

He laughs and takes a few determined steps in my direction, his gaze never straying from mine.

He stops too close to me. “You want to tell me why you weren’t in my bed when I got home?”

I know he’s referring to that text he sent me.

I swallow hard. “I’ve been busy.”

The side of his mouth curls into a smirk. “Have you now?”

I nod, but his proximity is intoxicating, and I might just have to run before it’s too late.

I clear my throat. “We only have an hour. I need to keep looking for a way out.”

I’m about to leave.

Only, something stops me.

Something warm.

And soft.

Kane’s mouth comes down on mine with such power that I stumble back a step.

Shit.

Kane’s kissing me.

Worse, I’m kissing him back.

“Did you really think—” He traps my bottom lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to hurt me. “—you could walk out of my life after I had you begging me to let you come on top of a fucking piano?”

His kisses are vindictive, fueled by irritation and resentment. I fist the fabric of his shirt, preparing to push him away, but all I can do is claw at his chest, needing more as he slips his tongue inside my mouth.

No, no, no.

This is precisely what can’t happen.

“Did you really think I would let you?” His mouth meets mine again, swallowing the moan that escapes me when our tongues connect.

Kane snakes his arm around my back and crashes our bodies together, his free hand gripping my cheeks as he bruises my mouth with his, practically milking the kiss out of me.

“Don’t ever do this shit to me again.” His tongue thrusting back in steals my breath. He pulls back abruptly, staring me dead in the eyes, and grits out, “You nearly fucking killed me, you know that?”

The next thing I know, he’s wrapped his hands around the backs of my thighs and lifted me up into his arms. My legs close around his waist like it’s muscle memory, and I lose myself in another searing kiss.

I want everything he has to give me, regardless of my brain’s disapproval, and when he drops me onto the wooden desk shoved into a corner of the room, I know the apology he really wants is the apology I can’t give him.

Not without getting my heart broken.

“Why did you ghost me?” He parts from my mouth just long enough to sink his teeth into the skin below my ear. “I need to know why.”

My head falls back, giving him clearer access to my neck, and he doesn’t hesitate to run his tongue up the side of it, stopping near my ear to say, “Why do you keep pushing me away?”

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