Page 138 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

Something in my chest gives a jolt when I see Kane sitting at the grand piano with his head down.

He looks up right away, green eyes finding me across the room. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, the dark spots under his eyes and his disheveled hair drawing a clear picture.

Is something keeping him up at night?

It takes me a fragment of a second to spot the notebook on his lap and the pen trapped between his fingers. Moonlight envelops the room, creating a dim glow around his silhouette.

I’m happy to see he’s writing songs again.

I think I see his eyes flare when he gives me a once-over, and the heat diffusing through my bloodstream makes me want to turn my ass around and walk out.

The last time we were in this room, all we did was talk. So why do I feel like the sunroom is a trap, Kane is the most delicious piece of cheese, and I’m the stupid little mouse about to meet her end?

I clear my throat. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.”

He stares for a moment, and then he rips his eyes away as though he can’t bear to look at me any longer. “It’s fine. I was done, anyway.”

My mouth falls open, my gaze glued to his muscular frame as he picks up the notebook, pushes off the piano bench, and makes a beeline for the door.

Okay?

Just like that, we’re back to the start. Back to when he bounced the second I walked into the room.

It makes no sense.

I know why I’m avoiding him.

Because he hurt me, and I’m scared of what this attraction could turn into, but he’s gone from taking my breath away with a gutting speech in the gazebo to trapping me in a closet and owning my mouth to running… again.

Why is he sending me so many mixed signals?

“That’s it?” My voice is close to a screech.

He stops dead.

“We’re just going to pretend like nothing ever happened?”

He spins to face me, his cold expression unwavering. “What are you talking about?”

“I know it was you last week. Cal got a phone call, and you took his place somehow, and then you…”

What I can only describe as a cunning smirk warps his lips. “And then I what?”

Just say it, Hadley.

“And then you kissed me.”

A scoff leaves his mouth.

This is the part where he denies it.

Kane parks himself inches away from me, leaning forward until his breath hits my parted lips. “So what if I did?”

That is not how I expected this conversation to go.

“You… You had no right to do that.”

Another scoff. “What part? Kissing you or licking whipped cream off your tits?”

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