Page 124 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

Am I?

I don’t know.

All I know is I don’t want this kiss to end, and if it means I need to hog the blame for ruining his life, then I’ll do what I have to.

“Fuck. Again,” he commands before trapping my bottom lip between his teeth and releasing it.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat.

My apology seems to destroy his resolve because he pulls back instantly, his mouth attaching to my neck and sucking on the skin under my ear. “You better fucking mean it.”

I only realize he’s branding my body when the nip of his teeth makes me wince.

But it doesn’t mean I don’t let him finish what he started, too wrapped up in him to think about the consequences of sporting a giant hickey.

I think he’s done when his mouth disconnects from my neck, but he goes right back in for more. I stop him before he bruises my skin any more than he already has, pulling on his head and guiding his lips back to mine.

But he refuses to stay there long, unzipping my jacket without a warning and dipping his head lower.

I stiffen up instantly, and he seems to notice because he rasps, “Relax, baby.”

I do, letting him undo the first few buttons of my short-sleeved silk pajamas. He yanks the fabric down, exposing my collarbone and the small tattoo on my shoulder. He leaves kisses all over my clavicle.

But then he stops.

His eyes latch onto the years inked on my shoulder.

The first is the year Gray and I were born.

And the last is the year he died.

Underneath it are two hands reaching for one another with the words, Until we meet again.

I got it with Maggie last semester. Only she could convince me to agree to such torture. Getting the tattoo was so painful I almost passed out, but all in all, I’m glad I did it. This way, I can carry Gray with me. At least, until we’re reunited.

Kane’s face changes as soon as he sees the numbers, his eyes turning cold.

“I got it last semester,” I explain.

Kane gives a nod, releasing my silk shirt and stepping away.

Just like that, the spell is broken, the magic is reversed, and the boy who was kissing me less than a minute ago now looks like he’d do anything to put a thousand miles between us.

I chew on my bottom lip, my chest still heaving with shallow breaths. “Is everything okay?”

Avoiding my gaze, Kane shoves a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m fine, I just… I need to go.”

“What?” is all I manage to say before he spins…

…and leaves me there.

HADLEY

I’m not usually the type to text a guy first.

Mostly because I’m a firm believer that if a man wants to talk to you, he will. There isn’t a good enough excuse in the world to justify a guy who cares about you not taking the time to reach out.

And there is especially no excuse for a man failing to text you back. Unless, of course, he never cared in the first place…

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