Page 176 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

“I’m sure you’re right.”

I can tell she means that—at least, a part of her does—but it doesn’t quiet her demons. It’s tearing her apart and making me feel horribly powerless.

“Fuck, just… come here.” The words are out of my mouth before my brain can process them.

Next thing I know, I’m wrapping a hand around her neck and crashing my lips to her hard enough to draw a gasp from her throat.

Hadley welcomes my mouth, the way she always does, opening her own to invite my tongue inside.

Our tongues meet instantly, tasting each other and leaving her desperate for oxygen. I don’t waste a second locating her ass, taking a handful over her shorts and squeezing until my cock is straining against my sweats.

My other hand drops to her bare thigh, my fingers digging into her flesh like I’m trying to mark her skin with reminders of who she belongs to.

Fuck, I need to taste her.

Now.

“Ride my face,” I pull away to say.

Her blue eyes flare, her tongue slipping out to wet her bottom lip.

Oh, she wants it.

I know my girl’s tells, and she wants me to go to fucking town on her pussy.

“I haven’t showered yet,” she says like that carries any weight in the decision-making process. “I fell asleep before I could get a chance.”

Ah, that’s right.

Last night, after we fucked in the pool house, I took her up to my room and suggested that we shower together. She was all for it. Problem is, she passed out the second her head hit my pillow, and I didn’t have the heart to wake her, so I showered alone.

I wait for her to elaborate. “So?”

“So, I don’t want to smell like tuna fish.”

The corners of my lips twitch. “I could go for some sushi.”

She laughs, the blush on her cheeks deepening. “I’m serious. I wouldn’t even want you to touch me down there, let alone eat me.”

It’s clear there’s no changing her mind, so I decide not to argue. The longer I fight her on this, the longer it’ll take before she’s coming on my face.

“Fine,” I relent and smack a loud kiss on her mouth. “But hurry that pretty ass up.”

She flashes a warm smile. “Promise.”

I watch her walk out of my room. It takes a boatload of self-talk for me not to join her in the bathroom, but I know, even if she’d never admit it, that she needs that time to herself. My girl’s independent like that.

Doesn’t mean I don’t spend the next fifteen minutes imagining her running soap all over her body.

I’m getting a severe case of blue balls by the time the door opens and she comes out in nothing but a tiny towel.

Fuck meee.

She pins me with a look I know damn well.

“Now, where were we?” she asks.

Then she’s making her way over to me. She takes a goddamn century to cross my room, teasing me and loving every second of my misery.

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