Page 90 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

“Am not!”

He grits his teeth. “Start walking. Now.”

“You don’t even have a car,” I argue.

“I’ll just take Vince’s.” Before I know it, he’s opening the front door and grabbing Vince’s car keys from the key rack mounted on the wall.

“I want to stay.”

“Tough shit.” He presses a button on Vince’s key fob, and his car makes a beeping sound.

I cross my arms over my chest like I’m a toddler. “I said I’m not leaving.”

I think I catch his focus dropping to my breasts again, but he doesn’t linger for long, getting so close to me I can feel his breath crash against my mouth. “Get your ass to the car before I make you.”

I don’t back down. “Suck my dick, Wilder.”

“Fine.”

Nausea rolls through my stomach when my feet lift off the ground. He just fucking tossed me over his shoulder.

“Put me down. I’m not a child.” This upside-down situation isn’t helping with the queasiness.

“I wouldn’t have to treat you like a child if you didn’t act like one.”

We’re halfway to the car when my stomach gives me a warning I’d be stupid to ignore.

“Kane, wait, I don’t… I don’t feel good.”

Something in my voice must reflect how panicked I am because he puts me down immediately.

I don’t know if the booze is making me see things, but I swear there’s a hint of worry in his eyes. As soon as my feet touch the ground, Kane clutches my waist with both hands to steady me.

Then I throw up all over his shoes.

* * *

KANE

I’ve had many girls throw themselves at my feet in my life. I’ve even had a few girls kiss my shoes like hygiene wasn’t a thing and I was blessing the ground by just standing on it. Despite all of that, I’ve never had a girl throw up at my feet.

And that’s not to say I haven’t had my fair share of experiences with vomit.

A pregnant fan once puked all over herself when she saw me. I still gave her a hug because I felt bad she’d spent seven hours waiting in the pouring rain outside of my hotel.

There was also that time a fan brought a hat for me to sign and puked inside of it just as she was next in line for my meet and greet.

Spoiler alert: I still signed it.

I felt bad for these girls.

Of course I did.

But when I saw Hadley get sick?

Jesus, I would’ve set myself on fire if it could’ve made her feel better.

“Can you please get out?” Hadley begs for the eighth time in a matter of minutes.