Page 92 of 1 Last Shot

And yet, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to roll my hips to the beat of an imaginary song. A song that I can’t be bothered to actually turn on, because I’mthateager to touch Kane. I want to say it's the dancer in me that's in tune with even imaginary music, but the truth is… I think it's Kane. Because with the way he's looking at me, with the way he's touching me, it feels like this is the only thing I should be doing right now.

“You don’t ever think of what it might be like with one of them?” I wonder out loud. “They’re so pretty, I’m sure you havesomethoughts.”

Kane’s hold tightens on my hips. “Never,” he says again. His gaze, now blazing with hunger, travels over the length of my body, taking in my rolling hips and the way my shirt has slid off one shoulder. When I reach up to take my hair clip out and let my locks tumble free, I see his jaw clench.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” I tell him, sliding his hands from my hips up to my breasts.

Tell me I’m the only one. Tell me this is real.

He cups my breasts under my shirt, his thumbs brushing over my nipples. He can’t see my thoughts, my silent begging, because his attention is focused on the way they peak under his touch.

I try again, more obviously this time. I start to trace the ink on his arm as I say, “I’ve never done the casual thing, so I don’t know what the rules are here. But we never said you couldn’t see other people.”

Thatgets his attention. His gaze darts up to lock eyes with me at the same time that his hands drop back to my hips. For a moment, he only stares. And I have no idea what’s going through his mind right now.

I distract myself by dropping my gaze and continuing to trace the tattoo on his arm, holding my breath as I wait for him to put me out of my misery.

Tell me this isn’t casual. Tell me I’m not alone here.

“Have you ever thought about getting one?”

The sudden change of topic makes me frown and meet his eyes again. “What?”

His stare is just as hard as it was a second ago. “Have you ever wanted to get a tattoo?”

My frown deepens in thought. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just… don’t know what I would get.”

He pauses, then promptly lifts me off his lap and onto my knees beside him on the couch. And before I can open my mouth to ask what he’s doing, he’s already moving to stand behind me.

"Bend over, princess. I’m going to mark you."

I suck in a breath, then swallow my hesitation and lean forward, bracing my hands on the back of the couch.

“Good girl,” he murmurs appreciatively. When I peek over my shoulder to watch for his next move, I see him reach toward the journal on my coffee table and the black marker sitting beside it.

And then suddenly I'm not focusing on sight, but on the feel of Kane's hands on my body, on the sound of his breathing growing labored as those hands start to search for the perfect place to stain me. They move over my shoulders, along my ribs, down my legs, and then finally, they settle on my ass cheeks. He kneads them for a moment, seemingly unable to pass up the opportunity to touch me there. The movement makes my boy shorts start to ride up, exposing more and more of my ass.

"You're fucking perfection," I hear him growl quietly.

I half expect him to forget his mission—and with every grind of the fabric against my center, I move closer to begging for just that—but before I can make the request, he’s crowding me against the couch, his lips against my ear and his arms caging me in.

“You want to know if this is casual, Isabella? Let me answer that very clearly for you.”

And then he’s moving away to kneel behind me, and I hear him uncap the marker. Suddenly, the cool tip of it is dragging across my skin, right under my left ass cheek.

I think I hold my breath the entire time. It could have taken a minute, it could have taken ten, I have no idea. My brain and my body become singularly focused on the feeling of Kane marking me.

When he finally pulls away, the place he drew on me feels like it's on fire.

"What did you draw?" I ask in a breathless voice.

But I don't get an answer, even when I ask the question again a minute later. When I glance over my shoulder, I see Kane staring down at my ass.

And he looks every bit the apex predator that I know he is.

Before I can open my mouth to say…something, Kane reaches for the sides of my underwear and slowly starts to slide them down my legs.

My breath hitches as the cool air hits my drenched center.

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