P.S. I’m Still Yours: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Silver Springs)
P.S. I’m Still Yours: Chapter 28

I used to think the day Hadley told me I’d never see her again would go down as the most miserable day of my life.

Ironically enough, now that I’m here, in a car with the girl I love, I’m realizing that day doesn’t even come close to the fucking nightmare that is sitting right next to her without being able to reach her.

She hasn’t said a word to me since we got in the car.

She hasn’t even looked at me.

Physically, she’s here, but emotionally, she’s gone.

And she isn’t just icing me out.

She looks like she genuinely hates me.

Her body is crushed to the car door, her back facing me in a way that ensures small talk isn’t a possibility.

I take it back.

Watching her walk away doesn’t even make the top five of my worst moments on this earth.

Realizing the only girl you’ve ever loved has lost all feelings for you?

Now, that shit will kill you.

Part of me is hoping that she’s faking it, but the other is fucking terrified of what it’ll mean if she’s not.

“We’re here,” the driver I hired notifies me, entering the building’s underground parking garage.

I might’ve been reckless when I showed up to Hadley’s dorm without security, but I’m going to play it safe starting now.

I’m sure pictures of me knocking on Hadley’s door dressed like a fucking serial killer are already circulating online, but I can’t have the media replaceing out where we are.

Drea and my new management have been blowing up my phone since this morning, when they found out I left my LA house without telling anyone.

I knew they’d never approve of me playing hooky and flying to North Carolina right before the trial, so I snuck out in the middle of the night, got on a jet, and did what I do best.

I went after Hadley Queen.

Although, I’m starting to think getting her back isn’t going to be as simple as sending her postcards and souvenirs of all the countries I’ve visited and missed her in.

I’m not saying I expected her to forgive me over a bunch of postcards, but I was hoping it might win me some points. Help her see that she never left my mind, even when a thousand miles stood between us.

I would’ve tried anything to get her to talk to me.

My chauffeur stops the car, and I thank him before getting out. Hadley follows suit, rounding the vehicle to meet me by the elevator.

The doors of the elevator part, allowing us inside, and I insert the key card needed to access my floor into the electronic card reader.

More silence.

Then the doors are gliding apart again, revealing the foyer of the luxurious penthouse I booked on a whim yesterday. Wraparound windows adorn the walls, the city lights and moonlight casting a golden glow over the common areas.

I hit the light switch the moment we step out of the elevator, preparing myself for the traumatic walk I’m about to take down memory lane.

I’ve spent years trying to block out those memories, but tonight, I’m facing them head-on.

Hadley releases a quiet gasp when the lights come on, and even I must admit the place is incredible. Not only is the panoramic view insane, but the penthouse is elegant, with modern furniture, carefully curated artwork, and an open layout.

“Come in.” I lead the way into the living room, Hadley trailing right behind me.

I make a beeline for the couch in the center of the space and take a seat, gesturing for her to do the same. A flash of hesitation gleams in her blue eyes, but she eventually complies, sitting opposite me.

My airways suddenly feel thinner. “Do you want something to drink? I can get you some water or—”

“Just get to the point. You wanted to talk. Now, talk.”

Damn. She’s not messing around, is she?

I’ve always liked that about her.

How blunt she is.

She always tells me how it is, like the time she tracked me down after I ruined her date with Cal and gave me hell for leaving her on Read.

Or that time she called me out for leaving any room she walked into and told me she wasn’t going to accept my disrespect.

She was also the first person to notice that I’m not passionate about the songs I sing. She didn’t hesitate to tell me that my new stuff was lacking in emotion and meaning.

Hadley’s never been afraid of anything.

But I’m nowhere near as brave as she is.

I sure as hell wasn’t brave that day.

I blow out a breath. “It was the morning after Gray died…”

THEN

“I don’t think we should do this,” I hear my drummer say, but his comment goes in one ear and out the other.

“Kane?” Scar presses when I don’t answer, glancing over at me from the passenger seat.

“Just give me a fucking minute,” I snap, guiding a hand to my right temple and rubbing to alleviate my headache.

We’ve been parked across the street from the police station for over an hour.

I know we’re going to have to go in sooner or later, but a part of me is terrified that marching through those doors will make last night real.

As long as I don’t walk up to that police station and tell them Brody Richards is a murderer, then maybe…

Gray doesn’t have to be dead.

Maybe he can be just fine.

Maybe… I can close my eyes without picturing my best friend lying in a puddle of his own blood.

Fuck.

I clench my jaw to keep the tears in my eyes from spilling down my face.

Brody’s threats has been playing in my head like a broken record since last night.

“You’ll lose everything, you know that, right? You’ll go down as an accomplice. We’ll tell them you planned the whole thing with us. That you’re one of those bored celebs looking for a thrill and that you offered to drive. It’ll be your word against ours.”

Brody might be a professional manipulator and a narcissist, but he’s not stupid. As soon as he managed to stop puking, the fucker realized he needed to cover his own tracks.

First thing he said was “You’re not going to tell a soul what happened tonight, you got me?”

When I tell you I almost laughed at how fucking delusional he was.

I would’ve thrown myself at him and beat him into a pulp if it weren’t for the gun still in his trembling hands. Axel and Dean immediately gave Brody their word, promising to stay quiet, but Scar and I didn’t make a sound.

“You got me?” Brody snarled, urging us to reply, and for a moment, I thought he was going to put a bullet in our heads, too.

Wrap up the loose ends.

“What kind of idiots do you take us for?” Scar fed him whatever bullshit he wanted to hear. “It was an accident, man. It’s not like you meant for it to happen.”

I couldn’t tell you where he found the strength to look that dirtbag in the eyes and make him feel better for taking a life.

But he did.

Scar played right into Brody’s hand, manipulating the ultimate manipulator and making it seem like we weren’t blaming him for pulling that trigger.

One look at Scar’s face, and I knew… he was making a play for our survival.

Brody’s shock was almost as apparent as his relief when Scar eased his guilt. “What the fuck was I supposed to do? He knew who I was. He would’ve gone to the cops!”

Having to listen to him trying to justify his actions made me sick to my stomach.

Would Brody have killed us if we’d refused to keep quiet? If we’d told him we were going to snitch the second he let us go? There’s no way to know for sure, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

Looking back, I believe Scar sympathizing with him saved us.

“What do you want to do?” Scar jerks me back to reality, and I exhale a long sigh.

I want to cry every fucking tear in my body, that’s what.

Gray is dead.

Dead.

I don’t cry in front of people. Not even my mom. It’s something I picked up from all the times my dad would slap me around as a kid.

Don’t let them see weakness, no matter what.

But years of practice aren’t enough to keep the grief at bay. For the first time since it dawned on me that Gray isn’t with us anymore, I allow myself to break down.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I go apeshit on the steering wheel, accidentally honking when I pound my fist against the horn.

A helpless Scar watches from the passenger seat.

He doesn’t try to stop me or comfort me. He simply lets my rage run its course, waiting for the sadness to take over.

And boy, does it take over.

Tears begin streaming down my face uncontrollably, and I choke on an angry sob, facing away from Scar.

Once I’ve managed to steady my breathing, I unbuckle my seat belt, wipe my face, and cringe like I have something to be ashamed of.

“Let’s go in and tell them everything,” I tell Scar, reaching for the door handle.

I’m about to get out when my phone chimes with a text.

From the last person I expected.

My manager.

JOSHUA

I’m here.

“I can’t believe you called him,” I scold my drummer for the fifth time in ten minutes.

“Would you have preferred I called your mom?” Scar argues as we’re making our way down the hotel corridor.

“You didn’t have to get him involved,” I grumble under my breath.

“Yes, I did. Dude, you’re not just anyone. You can’t just walk into the police station and accuse someone of murder without proof. We need guidance. We have no fucking idea what we’re doing!”

He’s not wrong about that part, but it doesn’t make Josh’s presence here any less frustrating.

Josh is my mentor. He has been since the day he showed up in Silver Springs to try and get me to sign with his label two years ago.

I respect the guy, and I promised him when he told me he’d do anything to make my dreams come true that he wouldn’t regret taking a chance on me.

Finding out that your biggest artist was the getaway driver to a murder just might make him think twice about managing me.

We come to a slow stop in front of Joshua’s suite.

Scar texted him right after Brody gave us our phones back, telling him to catch the next flight to North Carolina because we had a “pressing situation.”

“Look…” Scar sighs. “We just need to be smart about this. We’re going to need lawyers and resources we don’t fucking have. Josh can help.”

Doubt weighing on me, I knock on the door a few times.

I discern footsteps inside the room.

“I’ll be in the car,” Scar surprises me by saying.

“You’re not coming?” I ask.

“No, he wants to talk to you alone.”

On that note, Scar walks away, leaving me to fend for myself.

Shit.

I was hoping I’d have Scar there to back me up.

Knowing Josh, he’s going to be pissed that I even put myself in this situation by hanging out with guys I don’t trust to begin with.

He made it clear when we first started working together that I should be careful who I associate with. My inner circle should only consist of people I know for a fact wouldn’t stab me in the back.

The door opens the next second, and I cringe at the sight of the forty-year-old man on the other side.

He doesn’t look happy, that’s for sure.

I give him a quick once-over.

Josh’s black hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing a suit—what’s new?

You’d think he’s on his way to some prestigious event when really, he’s probably going to stay in all day and order some room service. That’s just who Josh is. He’s rich and successful, and he always dresses the part, even on weekends and his days off.

I expect his greeting to run along the lines of “What the hell did you do?” but instead, he says nothing.

Nothing except “Inside. Now.”

I thought walking Josh through what happened last night would be easier than living it.

I just wish I’d known that telling him everything would mean putting myself through it all over again.

By the time I finish the story, I feel as though I’m going to be sick. The room is spinning, the air in my lungs is scarce, and I’m on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

Sitting on the couch across from me, Josh struggles to process the information I’ve shared with him. He doesn’t speak or look at me for long seconds, staring blankly into space.

I can’t imagine what he must think of me right now.

Fuck, I bet he regrets ever managing me.

“I-I didn’t have a choice. He had a gun, and I—”

“I know,” he cuts me off. “I know it wasn’t your fault, kid.”

Every part of my body unwinds.

Hearing him say that fills my chest with relief, and I inhale a sharp breath, attempting to calm myself down.

“You didn’t know that was going to happen. You just wanted a night off. That’s not a crime.” The understanding in his voice shocks me.

What? No lecture?

No “you should’ve known better”?

He’s almost too calm.

It’s freaking me out.

“You made a mistake that escalated into something much bigger than anyone could’ve ever anticipated. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We can fix it.”

For a split second, I’m almost glad that Scar went behind my back and called Josh.

I’m glad that I have my mentor’s guidance to help me through this nightmare.

“I know we have to go to the police. We need to tell them everything,” I state the obvious.

That’s when he says the last thing I wanted to hear.

“That’s not what I meant…”

I blink at him for a few seconds, half expecting him to backtrack.

But he never does.

“Kane, listen to me…” He joins his hands together, leaning forward as he props his elbows on his knees. “Do you have any idea what going to the police would do to your career?”

My jaw drops.

Did he just imply that protecting my career is more important than Gray getting justice?

“Your contract clearly states that you can’t, under any circumstances, do anything that might cast the label in a negative light. You going to trial for driving the getaway car to someone’s murder wouldn’t exactly bring good publicity. They’d drop you without a moment’s hesitation.”

I hear what he’s saying, I do.

But as much as I love singing, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about all that legal stuff right now.

I don’t care if the label drops me. I don’t care if I never get to step foot on a stage again.

Gray’s dead.

I won’t protect his murderer.

I can’t.

“You can’t expect me to keep quiet. I couldn’t live with myself.”

“There’s also the fact that you’re legally required to complete four albums. It’s in your contract.”

I frown. I’ve only put out one so far, but what does that have to do with anything?

“If you were to go public with your story, the label would hold the right to request that you pay back the two-million-dollar advance they gave you for breaching the contract.”

My first album released six months ago. It’s done well enough to recoup half of what the label gave me, but I still have a million dollars to go.

I haven’t made enough to earn out the advance yet, which means I haven’t received a single penny from my songs or my shows so far. The only way for me to get paid for my work would be to pay back the label in full.

I used a big chunk of the money they gave me to pay off my mom’s debt and hospital bills from the time I broke my ribs trying to protect her from our pervert landlord.

Another big portion of it went into buying my mom a ranch and supporting her.

The amount I would owe the label if they were to drop me is around the same amount I have left in my bank account right now.

I could pay them back, but then I wouldn’t have a dollar left to my name. And I doubt any other label would want to sign me after such a scandal.

We’d be broke.

Again.

“Where would that leave us? My mom and I?”

“Right back where you started,” Josh answers.

He pauses.

“Look, your career is just beginning. You’re on your way to becoming one of the biggest male artists of our generation. You’d be throwing it all away for one mistake.”

I can’t speak, my throat coated in guilt.

“You don’t want your mom to be homeless again, do you?”

Tears are streaming down my face again, but this time, I don’t wipe them away.

“You’d be responsible for putting her back on the street. You’d have to take her away from the beautiful life she has now because of a crime you didn’t commit yourself. You’re her protector. That’s what she calls you, isn’t it?”

Very few people know about my mom’s nickname for me.

Mostly because saying it in front of people would lead to questions we didn’t want to answer.

My dad always hated us.

He hated that he got his one-night stand pregnant and was forced into marrying her by his controlling, old-fashioned family. He hated that he had to get hitched instead of enjoying his bachelor lifestyle.

He hated us, but mostly, he hated her.

He blamed her for getting pregnant and ruining his life—like that was her fault to begin with.

I was nine the first time he hit her in front of me.

It didn’t take long for me to figure out that this had been going on for a while, and just because it was the first time I’d witnessed it didn’t mean it was a rare occurrence.

So, I started putting myself in between them, trying to distract him from her, and it worked. He’d get mad at her, and like clockwork, I’d say something to provoke him, and he’d take out his anger on me instead.

Gradually, he stopped hitting her.

He stopped hitting her because he started hitting me.

It didn’t matter how many bruises I had or how many times I had to cover them up.

All that mattered was that she was okay.

But then he died.

Images of me and my mom living in that disgusting New York studio flash before my eyes.

Sometimes she wouldn’t eat for a week to ensure that I had at least one meal a day. Of course, I kept pretending that I wasn’t hungry so she’d finish off my plates.

She was nothing but skin and bones by the time Lillian took us into her home. Mom was killing herself, working three jobs because she couldn’t afford to go to school, and she still wasn’t able to make ends meet.

I promised myself the day she fainted from extreme hunger that I’d do everything in my power to take care of her.

“The question now is, what are you going to do? Are you going to tell the truth… or are you going to protect your mom?”

NOW

HADLEY

A stunned silence pervades the air, my mouth going slack, and I slouch into the couch, struggling to come to terms with Kane’s confession.

He did it for his mom.

Of course he did.

Besides the fact that he was only seventeen, he was also scared out of his mind. Terrified of having to watch his mom suffer.

That’s who Kane is.

He’s a mama’s boy through and through.

Evie is his whole world—she always has been.

And Joshua knew that.

He knew exactly how to manipulate Kane into keeping quiet.

Joshua preyed on Kane’s fears, took advantage of his endless admiration for him.

Kane already felt like he owed this guy his entire career. As though Josh was some sort of angel sent from above for making his wildest dreams come true.

When your mentor tells you to keep your mouth shut, that’s what you do.

Kane drops his face between his hands with a strangled curse. “Fuck, I… I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you and your mom. I should’ve never let Josh get in my head. If I’d just done the right thing that day instead of listening to him, he would’ve never been able to…” He looks up, clenching his teeth and jaw.

“Been able to do what?” I’m afraid the answer will scar me for life.

“I showed up to his LA house unannounced a few weeks before the beginning of last summer. I was fed up with singing cheesy love songs, and I wanted to talk to him about putting out an album with tracks I actually liked. I couldn’t replace him anywhere, so I went through the first floor of the house, only to replace him and a bunch of people smoking cigars in the parlor. The room was full of powerful men—award-winning movie producers, big-shot directors, record label owners, and a bunch of other sharks I knew from the industry.

“Everything looked normal, at first. Then I saw them. The little girls. There were four of them. They were sitting on one of the couches half naked, staring ahead of them with glassy eyes. One of them looked familiar, and I realized… I’d met her at a meet and greet a few days prior. She had a very distinct blue strand in her hair and a birthmark on her cheek, which is why I recognized her instantly. When I’d met her, she’d told me she was twelve. But the worst part is… out of the four girls, she looked like the oldest…”

My palm flies to my mouth.

Joshua’s a predator, isn’t he?

This is why Kane attacked him at the club.

“It didn’t take me long to realize that the girls were on something. I don’t know what, but it was obvious that they weren’t there. That’s when Josh saw me standing in the doorway. I’ve never seen him look so fucking pale in my life…

“He immediately pulled me aside, trying to feed me some ridiculous explanation about why there were a bunch of half-naked kids on his couch. I called bullshit, and he started panicking, asking me not to say anything. That it wasn’t a big deal since the girls didn’t remember a thing afterward. I thought I was going to be sick right then…

“I asked him how long this had been going on, and the shame in his eyes… I just knew it started years ago.”

God, these poor girls.

Kane’s fists are so tight his knuckles are completely white. “That’s when he admitted to drugging them and letting each of his buddies have their way with their unconscious bodies. They’d touch them… take pictures… and eventually…”

My vision becomes blurry, tears gathering in my eyes.

“I just fucking lost it. I made him tell me everything. I found out he used my name to get these girls to come to him. He’d ask them if they wanted to meet me, and he’d lure them to his house for his little predator parties. Then, he’d get them front-row seats to my shows, free passes to my meet and greets, and if one of them asked what happened to them, he’d deny everything and threaten to take the tickets away. He spent the last five years abusing my fans. Everything he did… is on me.”

I’m sobbing by the time he’s done.

“Hey, this is not your fault. Not even for a second, you hear me?”

He doesn’t say anything for long seconds, glancing down at his joined hands on his lap. He’s blaming himself. Understandably so. These girls were tricked because they loved him and wanted to meet him.

“I told him I was going to stop him, and he threw the night Gray died back in my face, telling me that if I told someone, anyone, he’d tell the cops I was the getaway driver and an accomplice to Gray’s murder. I trusted him, and he’s been holding it over my head to make sure I won’t rat him out.”

My eyes widen in realization. “And that night? When you attacked him at the club? Was it because of…”

He cringes at the recollection. “Yeah. That was the first time I’d seen him since I’d walked in on his pedo party. He didn’t even look sorry. He was just acting like nothing happened, and I saw red.”

I think back to the video of Kane punching Joshua before he fell down the stairs. That video made Kane look like the bad guy. People just assumed Kane punched him because he had “anger issues.”

Little do they know, Joshua isn’t the victim in all this. He’s the villain.

“Why would he sue you? If he knows you could tell the world everything he did to those kids?” It makes no sense. Joshua is a monster, but he’s also smart. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have managed to abuse so many girls without getting caught.

“My best guess is he’s certain I won’t say anything to protect my own secret. And if I can’t say anything about the girls, then I’m just a violent asshole who put his manager in a wheelchair. He’ll get a big payday, the world’s sympathies, and he’ll destroy my career, all in one swift move. Not to mention it might’ve looked suspicious if he hadn’t come after me.”

My voice fails me.

What he’s told me doesn’t change the fact that Mom and I spent years begging for answers.

It doesn’t erase the suffering, all the nights where we cried ourselves to sleep.

And it sure as hell doesn’t make Kane’s betrayal okay.

But it does help me understand why he decided not to go to the police.

He’s given me answers I thought I would never get.

Even if it took him three years to do so…

In the end, his mistake stemmed from trusting the wrong person. He got dragged into an impossible situation, and I hate to admit it, but if I’d been in his shoes, torn between doing the right thing for someone else’s family and protecting my own…

I can’t guarantee that I wouldn’t have done the same thing.

“Hadley…” He chokes on a guttural plea, producing the most heartfelt request I’ve ever heard.

He rises to his feet, crossing the space between us and taking a seat right next to me. He tries a glance in my direction and reaches for my hand, his hesitation made clear by the pause that follows.

He waits for me to remove my hand from his hold.

I don’t.

Not yet.

He seems to take my acceptance of his affection as a good sign, lacing our fingers together and inhaling a shaky breath. “Fuck, Hadley, I… This past month has been a nightmare. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to wake up. I can’t fucking take it. Most days, I miss you so much I want to tear everyone’s head off. I don’t know how to live in a world you’re not a part of. It’s fucking pathetic, but it’s true.”

I wish someone had prepared me for this.

The goodbye that fucks you up beyond repair.

“I love you, Hads. I love you so fucking much. Just… don’t leave me. Please.”

His green eyes have never looked so bright, the color of his irises enhanced by the tears shrouding them. I can’t tell him what he really wants to hear, but I can tell him the truth.

“I love you, too,” I croak.

And it is the truth.

I’ve loved him for almost my entire life, and I’m convinced a part of me will continue to love him in every life after that.

Even if I have to live all of them without him.

Kane’s mouth parts at my admission.

He emits a sigh of relief, his shoulders unwinding, and it breaks me. Although, nothing splinters my heart quite as much as the rush of desire roaring inside me when he pulls me closer.

His mouth comes down on mine, grazing the corner of my lips for an instant. I don’t shove him off, inching closer in response. A groan of satisfaction rips from his throat, and the next thing I know, he’s going all in, marking my mouth with a bruising kiss I feel deep in my stomach.

The worst part? I let him kiss me.

I don’t have the strength to push him away. I just don’t, so I open up for him, granting his tongue access. He immediately accepts the invitation, his tongue slipping inside my mouth and reducing whatever resistance was left in my body to ashes.

His kiss carries urgency, desperation, but mostly, it conveys fear. I know Kane. He’s terrified. Scared that I’ll come to my senses and leave him again.

For good this time.

My hands are in his hair before I can overthink my own actions, pulling at his scalp for more. Only then does he surrender to the moment, groaning against my mouth and pinning me down under him.

He climbs on top of me on the couch, grabbing the lower half of my neck with one hand and holding himself up with the other. We’re both panting, our chests meeting with each breath we inhale. I moan when he traps my bottom lip between his teeth and pulls hard, releasing it a split second later. You’d think he was inside me based on the noises I’m making.

It’s been an entire month since we slept together, and we’re both feeling the effects of withdrawal, impatiently clawing at each other’s clothes.

I only realize I’m rocking against his cock when he grits out a low “Fuck, Hadley.”

He’s rock hard, straining against his pants and positioned perfectly. The back-and-forth of his body against mine creates just the right amount of pressure between my thighs, and it doesn’t take me long to know this dry-humping business is not going to be enough for me.

“Touch me. Touch me, please,” I nearly cry out, playing with the buckle of his belt.

Normally, he’d tease me.

He’d torture me the way he always does, and I’d be a writhing mess by the time he gives me what I want, but he doesn’t seem to have the self-control needed to deny me.

Not after we’ve been apart for a month.

He doesn’t argue, immediately curling his fingers inside the waistband of my leggings and yanking them down my legs. He doesn’t stop until he has me completely naked and at his mercy on the couch.

He stares at my exposed body for a few seconds, his nostrils flaring.

Hot damn.

He looks at me like he’s been starving himself for weeks and I’m the gourmet meal he’s spent every day thinking about.

“It should be a fucking crime to look this good.” He grips my waist, jerking me closer and spreading my thighs apart.

I know what his intentions are before he even makes a move, and I’ll be damned if I allow this to be one-sided.

I smack my palm to his chest. “Take your clothes off.”

Kane raises a brow, a sexy, familiar smirk stretching his mouth. Then he’s stripping, starting with his shirt and kicking his jeans and briefs down his legs.

“That what you had in mind?” He fists his cock, pumping himself under my gaze.

God, I’ve missed him.

I’ve missed everything about him, but his cock ranks pretty damn high on the list.

It feels like my skin is on fire.

And not in a good way.

The desire pricking at my flesh is unbearable, damn near maddening.

“Now, where were we?” He lowers his mouth to my pussy, biting down on my inner thigh and making me cry out in frustration.

This isn’t enough.

I can’t take his teasing, and I sure as hell can’t take having to wait for my orgasm.

“No, I need…” I can’t bring myself to say it.

“What? You don’t want me to? We both know how much you love my tongue, don’t you, baby?” He continues to spread kisses everywhere except where I need him most, his mouth latching onto my pelvic bone and staying there long enough to drive me insane. His breath cascades down my core, and I clench.

“No, I… More.” I squirm, my brain failing to form a sentence.

“I’ll give you anything you want after I’m done.”

A frustrated growl leaves my lips, and he laughs, gripping my hips and pinning me down, effectively immobilizing me. Then he’s dragging his tongue along the crease of my pussy.

It’s just one sharp lick.

One lick and he’s moving away.

But it has me losing my mind.

“Fuck me. I need you to fuck me,” I manage to say.

He lets out a sharp breath, eyes widening, but he doesn’t let my request throw him off his game.

“Not before you’re dripping all over my fucking face.”

That’s when I know I won’t survive our last night together.

Not unless I take control.

I grip his shoulder and push him backward onto the couch.

I straddle him before he can get a word in, slipping my hands between my thighs and grazing my engorged clit with my index. I dip my finger lower, almost embarrassed by how wet I am until Kane’s hand matches my actions, replaceing my entrance. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment.

“You want to fucking kill me, don’t you?” He throws his head back, but I refuse to let him break the eye contact, knowing this will be the last time he’ll get to look at me.

“Open your eyes.” I turn the tables on him, and his mouth drops, green eyes snapping up to mine. “Lower.”

His focus falls between my legs, and I reach for his cock underneath me, fisting him slowly before guiding his tip between my pussy lips.

His hands shoot to my waist, but I slap them away.

“What? Can’t stand not being in control?” I offer him a sly grin, continuously using him to get off.

Pleasure courses through me, and my eyes roll back at the friction. I angle his cock at my opening, leading him inside me just an inch. But then I’m pulling away, resuming with the back-and-forth against my clit.

“Fuck, stop teasing me.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’m going to come before I get to fuck you.”

I pay him no mind, gripping him tighter and jerking him off.

“Shit,” he grits out, clenching his jaw and fists. “Hads, please.”

That does something to me.

The next thing I know, I’m lowering myself onto his cock.

“Oh, God.” I have to stop myself from screaming.

I don’t know why I thought I could handle his cock like this. Did I forget how big he is? How hard it is to adjust to his size, especially in this position?

Kane grips my waist, and this time, I let him. “Fuck. That’s it. Nice and slow.”

I clearly underestimated how wet I was. I’m guessing that’s why Kane was adamant on oral intercourse. He knows it helps me relax before we get down to business.

“That’s it. Be a good fucking girl and take every inch of my cock.” His hands cage my body, urging me to move downward. He must notice the look on my face when I swallow him entirely because he cups my face, swiping his finger along my jaw.

I wince, attempting to adjust to his size by moving around.

“Hands on my chest, beautiful.” Kane captures both my hands into his, places them flat against his pecs, and tugs me forward. The new angle turns out to be a revelation. At least this way, I don’t feel his dick stabbing my organs. “I’m going to move now, okay?”

He starts to pump his hips into me, his eyes never leaving mine as he gradually fucks me harder.

It feels amazing.

Much better than it did earlier.

Shit, I was supposed to be the one in control.

Instead, he’s calling all the shots.

It feels so good I don’t even care.

“Go on. Take it,” Kane rasps, his thrusting increasing in speed and intensity.

Pleasure fully replaces the ache between my thighs when he jerks me flush against his chest, one of his hands flying to the back of my head as our mouths collide.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t forgiven me.” His lips replace mine again, sparing me from having to come up with a response that’ll most likely be a lie.

He kisses me like he’s succumbing to illness and I’m the only thing capable of saving him. My eyes begin to water, but I forbid my emotions from spilling down my face.

I’ll have the rest of my life to miss him.

We kiss for what feels like an eternity and a fleeting moment all at once. Our tongues tangle like we’re battling each other for dominance. Meanwhile, my heart is disintegrating in my chest.

It quickly becomes clear that unless I pull away right this second, I’m going to break into a million pieces, and I can’t lose it yet. I distance myself, interrupting our kiss and pouring my focus into riding him until my thighs burn.

I sit upright, propping my arms behind me, and Kane doesn’t waste a second locating my clit and rubbing me in rough circles.

“I’m going to make you come in every room of this penthouse, you hear me? You won’t be able to fucking walk by the time I’m done with you.”

He has me on the edge of an orgasm just minutes later, and I shut my eyes, Kane’s rapid thrusting turning me into a wild animal. Pressure builds between my legs, the noises I make sounding unrecognizable to my own ears.

I begin to peak at the exact same time Kane sits up, his free hand digging into my ass as he rams himself inside me so fast my vision fails me for a split second.

He plunges his gaze into mine, staring through my soul, and whispers, “Promise me that you won’t leave me again.”

My orgasm overpowers me, and I come undone, self-hatred contaminating the blinding pleasure gushing through my body. Hearing my moans is too much for him, and he responds with a final thrust, spilling inside me with a groan.

“Promise me, Hadley. Promise me that I won’t lose you,” I hear him choke out the second he finishes, but how do I promise him that he won’t lose me…

When I’m already gone…?

“I promise.”