Page 4 of Second Shot

One hand grips my hips as he continues to drive into me with deep, powerful strokes. His other hand reaches behind my head, tugging at my hair, and he demands, this time more forcefully, “Look atme.”

I blink, my breath catching when I meet the blue of hisgaze.

God, those eyes. Usually so hard and merciless, they hold a vulnerability now that makes my chest squeeze with emotions I have no right tofeel.

Not able to hold his gaze any longer, I crush my lips against his, demanding the pleasure I can feel ready to explode through every nerve ending in mybody.

Within seconds, my orgasm rips through me, a blinding ecstasy that sends flashes of white light behind my closed lids. Back arched, head tilted back, I cry out as wave after wave of pleasure rolls throughme.

Kane isn’t far behind. With one final thrust, he groans and spills himself inside of me so powerfully that I can feel the hot, heavy spurts at the back of my womb, causing my pussy to clench and spasm one more time aroundhim.

His forehead rests against mine, and he breathes out roughly. “Jesus,Brynne.”

We stay like that for a long moment, our sweaty bodies tangled as our breathing slowly returns tonormal.

I don’t want to move. I want to hold on to this feeling of euphoria that’s already slippingaway.

“Fuck,” Kane mutters, still buried inside me, fingers tangled in myhair.

Guilt.

Regret.

I see it in his eyes when he pulls back to look atme.

“I shouldn’t have donethat.”

I, not we. Like I was just some spectator in one of his depravedexploits.

Any connection I thought we had vanishes with thosewords.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to run to Daddy, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Anger tightens my voice as I push himaway.

He lets me, slowly lowering me to the ground and taking a small stepbackwards.

“That’s not what I meant.” There’s a hollowness to his words that reminds me of the same empty void I carry around inside ofme.

He pulls his pants up, tucking himself back in hisbriefs.

Keeping my gaze averted, I adjust my bra and shirt, then pull my jeans on, feeling the slickness of our pleasure cool and wet against mypanties.

“We should talk.” He rakes his fingers through hishair.

“There’s nothing to talkabout.”

“Brynne. I care about you-” He reaches out to touch me, and I flinch, drawing back into myself, into the steel cage I’ve resurrected around myheart.

“Care?” I snort. “That’s funny coming from you. Kane Madden doesn’t care about anyone buthimself.”

Brick by brick, I reconstruct the wall around myheart.

He frowns and drops his hand, taking a step back, and has the nerve to look like I hurt hisfeelings.

Bullshit.

“What? Did you think that actually meant something to me?” I bold-faced lie. I chuckle darkly and shake my head. “You’re nothing to me. And this—”I throw my hands up between us.“—was just sex. Nothing more. That’s the way you do it, right?” I narrow my eyes, going deeper into the abyss of resentment. “All those one-night stands you’re so famous for. You know how this works better than me. Why try and complicate it withtalking?”

His lips tug down further, and I see something cross his expression –pain. The kind of pain that breaks a person. Shatters them from the inside until they’re completelynumb.

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