Page 57 of P.S. I'm Still Yours
“Wait, I’m sorry, I—”
“I’m only going to say this once, so I’d listen if I were you. I’m going to go take a shower, sleep for like fourteen hours, and you are going to get your shit and get the fuck out of my house.”
“Are you… firing me?”
He gasps. “So, you do have a brain.”
“You can’t do this. I’ll tell everyone what we did!”
His laugh chills me to the bones. “You do that and I’ll sue you out of every fucking cent you’re ever going to earn in your miserable life. You signed an NDA, remember? And a foolproof one, at that.”
Tori huffs an indignant “You’re an asshole.”
It doesn’t faze Kane one bit. “No shit. Bye now.”
The door swings open before I can even think of hiding.
I’m frozen.
No, I’m a goddamn ice statue at this point.
The first person I see is this Tori girl. I drink her in, analyzing her freckles and hairstyle.
Then my gaze lands on him.
The most hated celebrity on the face of the earth.
He’s shirtless, leaning back against the bathroom counter with his messy brown hair dangling in front of his eyes. He looks like a fucking god, I can’t even lie.
His jaw is sharper than a knife, and you would think his body was designed by the world’s best sculptors—although credit probably goes to his personal trainer and crazy-strict diet.
I zero in on his tattoo. He has a bleeding rose with thorns wrapped around a guitar on his shoulder, the ink stretching over to his right pec. He’s nothing like the boy I remember.
He’s a man now.
The most attractive man I’ve ever seen.
And no one’s more bitter about it than I am.
He hasn’t noticed me yet. But Tori doesn’t hesitate to remedy that.
“Who the hell are you?”
Kane’s green eyes lift to mine in a heartbeat, and I’m faced with my worst fear.
Everything else is unfamiliar.
But his eyes…
I know them.
I know him.
Kane doesn’t look like a stranger.
He just looks like an older, toughened-by-life version of himself. However, I must look very different because color spills from his skin the second we make eye contact.
“Hadley?”