Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
avery
Worst Way – Riley Green
Islam into the bathroom, fuming with the shock of how Kane thinks he has the right to crash my night. He has the audacity to get mad at me for trying to live again—to feel something again instead of this numbness that has seemed to burrow itself into my very bones.
I lean over the counter and brace myself over the marble counter and the pristine white sinks you’d be shocked to find in this bar, trying to catch my breath before I go back out there.
I turn the water on cold and put some on my cheeks to cool the redness from the anger of our heated conversation on the bar floor.
The door slams open behind me. I jump and turn to see Kane burst through the doorway after me.
We stare at each other, neither of us moving as the bathroom fills with the sounds of us breathing heavily. My chest rises and falls at a rapid pace. The bathroom seems to shrink with him filling the space before me.
“You think that’s what you want?” he barks, pointing back toward the bar. He turns and locks the door before taking a few steps toward me as I place my back against the sink counter.
This back-and-forth we’ve had going on has drained me. The endless months of missing him mixed with the small moments of hope, only to be crushed when we take steps back.
“Maybe that’s exactly what I want, Kane,” I taunt, a smirk forming on my lips as I see his eyes darken further.
I cross my arms beneath my chest, pushing my tits up in my top, making them practically spill out with the movement.
I watch him track it with his eyes, the flex of his hand at his side egging me on further.
“No, it’s not. You think a man like that is enough for you?” he challenges as he eyes me like I’m his prey.
His hands brace at his sides, breaths coming in hard pants as I watch him fight to keep his control. His hazel eyes are wild as they take me in.
“And how do you know what’s enough for me?
” I reply with my arms crossed, wanting some barrier between myself and the man who seems to haunt all my waking moments.
My heart rate spikes as he takes one step across the gray floor toward me.
He stops, one side of those full lips quirking up in a taunting smirk.
“I know because I’m it, pretty girl,” he challenges.
“You don’t want a man whose ego you have to stroke.
You want someone who comes undone with just the thought of you.
You want a man who would fall to his knees after one taste.
Someone willing to worship the ground you walk on just for a sliver of your attention. ”
He advances toward me, shoes squeaking across the glossed cement floor until we’re inches apart. Black Converse shoes fill my vision as I lower my eyes.
We feel miles apart still. My hackles are raised with the way this conversation has turned in his favor. I feel the heat bloom across my cheeks, thinking of all the ways Kane is very capable at handling me.
“You forget that I know every inch of you better than I know myself,” he taunts, that smirk deepening on his face, eyes dark as he drinks me in.
His darker side comes out to play when it’s just the two of us—the one that demands I submit to him.
I can let all my fears and worries fade away in those moments, trusting him fully with my pleasure.
I willingly give over the control of my mind and body to this man, submitting to whatever he wants in a way only he has been able to do.
“And yet you let me go. So you don’t get to tell me anything anymore,” I fume with my chin held high under his imploring stare. My voice breaks toward the end, and I hope he didn’t notice.
I want to keep the higher ground, so I stand up straighter, wanting to feel more of an even match for his hulking size that fills up this dim two-stall bathroom. His presence used to take up my entire vision when we were together.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Avery. I have never, not for one second, let you go.”
Before I can get a rebuttal out, he is on me, consuming all the surrounding space, until the air is filled with the smell of him—leather, sandalwood, and everything that makes him inherently him. The faint smell of alcohol clings to his skin from the drinks he has been serving tonight.
He invades my whole vision until all I can see is him. Those thick brows are bunched together, his dark eyes fixed on me as his tongue trails over his teeth. He drags his thumb against my bottom lip, slick with gloss. He takes that thumb and licks it off.
The next second, rough hands grab the back of my neck and bury themselves in my hair, pulling me into a bruising kiss.
One large hand skims my waist, the pressure almost painful as if it’s keeping me from running again while his hot mouth devours me as if I’m the last meal he’ll ever get, his tongue dueling with mine.
I feel those calluses on the edge of his fingers from the countless hours of playing guitar dig into my scalp with a small bite of pain. The pull takes me higher as my breath comes out in pants between kisses.
His big hands release me to grab me by the thighs and hoist me up to the counter with such force, the mirror rattles. He captures the nape of my neck, angling my head back to kiss me deeper.
The heat rises in my belly until my whole body feels too sensitive as Kane looms over me.
At this height I’m closer to his face, giving me easier access.
His tongue slides inside my mouth with little resistance from me—unable to keep that part of me locked away from him—after just one kiss, I’m liquid in his hands.
We barely take time to rest in between strokes, my head going light with the lack of oxygen. The burning in my stomach goes higher, making me drunk on the feeling of him. The cocktail I drank at the bar doesn’t even touch the way he makes me feel—weightless.
His stark black hair and all-black clothes make him seem like the devil incarnate here to take my soul, and if that’s what he wants, I will gladly let him have it in this moment.
Everything else around us ceases to exist as he continues his assault on my mouth. His tongue swirls around mine with expertise we’ve perfected over the years, our bodies remembering how perfectly they fit together, as he’s locked between my thighs.
I let my hands roam up his back to his neck before I dig my fingers in his silky strands, appreciating the feel of them running through my fingers again. I pull gently at the strands until a groan leaves his throat, coiling the heat in my belly further, making me flush with a burning need.
His tongue dives in and out, until I’m left panting and pulling back to get air, only for him to dive back onto my lips in seconds, as if that’s all the time he can handle being separated from them.
All I can think is how much I want this man—past and present be damned.
I need him in a way that feels wrong to have ever denied myself.
I was na?ve to think there would ever be a time when my body would stop craving him, wanting him, needing him and only him.
I was foolish thinking I could simply move on from someone like Kane—who has changed the very makeup of who I am.
Someone who has woven himself so tightly around me that some days I struggle to find where one of us ends and the other begins.
When I saw him storm over to me, eating up the floor—all brooding confidence and thick muscles, the flex of his arms like he was ready to fight the world to get to me—I never thought his single-minded mission would lead here.
I feel his hands drop from my hair and skim up my legs as he continues to kiss me as if he can make up for the kisses we’ve missed over the past few months.
He makes his way under my skirt to grab the very tops of my thighs, so close to where I’ve been aching since Kane stared at me as if I was an angel who fell from heaven.
The leather of my skirt shifts easily, bunching around my waist.
His hand strokes me over my thong, and the gasp that leaves me only spurs him on, making him press harder over the soft material.
The silky black lace is impossibly wet and I find myself desperate for him to slide them to the side and put me out of my misery.
The urgency to have him touch me where I ache for him and only him is overwhelming.
I should be embarrassed by how wet I am, by how much he can feel how desperately I want him—need him—to touch me.
“Kane, more!” I cry out, coming up for air while he dives into my neck and kisses me in places he knows will unravel me. He pulls back to stare at me while his fingers continue their torturous motions on my clit, slow and unhurried.
“You want more, huh? You want to feel my fingers push this sexy fucking thong to the side and feel how wet you are for me?” Kane groans.
His lips are just a breath away from mine but not close enough to touch.
“You’re dripping so beautifully for me, baby—making a fucking mess of these scraps separating me from your perfect fucking pussy,” he rasps, a knowing glint in his eye that confirms he’s torturing me, as my breaths grow heavier and faster.
My orgasm builds rapidly but is still just out of reach. The fire is so hot within me, and my body begs to eradicate anything that stands between us. My clothes feel too much on my overly sensitive skin, and I want to scream for him to replace them with his warm body flush with mine.
“Did you wear these for him?” he demands, holding my eyes and slowing his fingers over my bud, making a frustrated scream come out of me.
“Did you wear them in hopes someone would take them off later?” he continues, as he pulls back and tilts my face up with his other hand until I’m nose-to-nose with him, so he can read any lies I may try to feed him.
My chin stays locked in his grasp, his pleading stare has me snared in his clutches.