Page 151 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

I gasp at the suddenness of it all, and Kane uses my surprise to slip his tongue past my lips. My hands dart upward to clutch his face, and I moan at the expense of my pride.

Fuck.

Last night felt like a fever dream.

I somehow managed to convince myself that he would wake up the next day and go right back to avoiding me. The words he said to me before making me his on the piano echo in my head.

“This isn’t a onetime thing.”

Looks like he meant it.

Kane’s fingers curl around the nape of my neck as if to nail me into place as he works his tongue deeper into my mouth, claiming and tasting mine.

The kiss is raw, maddening, and carries a sharp edge of resentment. I wish there was a world in which I didn’t want him. A way to stop craving every little touch, every breathtaking kiss and the noises he makes when our lips fuse together.

If I could, I would surgically remove him from my body. Grab a scalpel and cut this boy out of me. Problem is, he’s so deep under my skin I’m afraid any attempt at extracting him would rip me open and bleed me dry.

I’m starting to think there’s no escaping my fate, and when he backs me up against the outer pane of the shower, sucks my bottom lip between his teeth, and tugs on it hard, I don’t want to.

Kane crushes his shirtless body to mine, and his right hand falls downward. He fists the fabric of my shirt like he’s pouring all of his willpower into not ripping it to shreds.

His groan is packed with impatience and a tinge of desperation. “Let me see those fucking tits.”

I arch my back, lifting my arms over my head to facilitate the process. He removes my shirt first. Then he goes for the sweatpants he lent me.

His big hands cup my breasts, his mouth latching onto my puckered nipples one by one. He twirls his tongue around the tips, sending bolts of pleasure to my lower stomach, and I take a fistful of the hair on the back of his head, keeping him there for a beat.

He’s got me butt naked.

Again.

Meanwhile, he’s still wearing the pants he fell asleep in—don’t ask me how he managed that one. You would have to pay me a fortune to sleep in jeans.

I bring my palms to his chest and push him off me.

“You’ve seen me naked two times now. I think it’s only fair that I get to see the goods, too.”

His stupid, sexy smirk constricts my throat. “No one’s stopping you.”

I don’t think twice, dropping to my knees in front of him and unbuckling his belt. His chest heaves with a sharp breath as I tug his zipper down and slip my fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

A growl rumbles deep in his throat, and I blink up at him innocently. “Jesus, Hadley. I can’t promise I’m going to be a gentleman if you—”

I pull his pants down in one go.

His cock slips free.

It’s thick and hard, bulging veins snaking up his shaft, and I can’t even begin to hide my shock.

He’s… huge.

I’m not exaggerating.

He makes the other dicks I’ve seen in my life look pathetic. Not only would he tear me apart down there, but I’m pretty sure I would risk death if I tried to deep-throat him.

I ogle his tattoo of a guitar wrapped in roses and thorns. The dark ink stretches across his bicep, pec, and obliques, stopping inches above his dick.

He must pick up on how overwhelmed I am because he takes my hand into his and lifts me off the bathroom floor.

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