Page 19 of Trick Shot (Miami Blazers #1)

“Why here?” She sets her cup down in the sand beside her.

“Hm?”

“This spot.” She gestures at the cove. “You brought me here. Why?”

I look out at the water again. I want to talk to her—really talk to her.

I’ve been waiting for this moment for the past ten months, and as fun as it might be to play with her, I finally got to meet the person I’ve been pouring my soul out to.

The ice is long broken, but not for her.

To her, I’m still a stranger. Not the man she’s been messaging for almost a year.

The breeze catches her hair, a few strands wrapping around her neck.

I nod towards the ocean.

“I came here after I signed with Miami,” I say. “The guy who sold me the house didn’t even mention this place. I found it by accident on day one.”

I pause, glancing over. She’s watching me, unblinking.

“And when I stepped out onto this beach…” I exhale, slow. “It was the first time I could hear myself think.”

“No one knows about this spot,” I add. “None of the guys come out this far. It’s too hidden. I don’t bring my phone here. No music. No cameras. No expectations.”

“Expectations,” she echoes, like she’s trying the word on for size.

“Yeah.” I nod, picking up a rock and tossing it lazily into the water. “People think being good at something makes you free. But the second you’re good, they want you to stay that way. And the second you slip?”

“They crucify you,” she finishes softly.

I glance at her again. Her expression’s shifted. It’s less sharp, less defensive. I know she knows that feeling a little too well. We’ve talked about this before. I’ve calmed her down after fights with her parents, arguments with Dom—before I knew who she was referring to.

“You get it,” I murmur.

“I was raised by politicians,” she says, voice low. “Smiling on cue is my first language.”

I let out a laugh. Bunny hid what her parents did—said they run a business.

In some ways, she didn’t lie. I obviously know what Dom’s parents do.

I know what they did—everything they could to keep him off the ice.

Politics and hockey isn’t a good look. I know what they did to her too.

That’s why she’s here, on the other side of the continent. She wants to get away from it all.

“What?” She gives me a look.

“That explains the posture.”

“Posture?”

“Yeah. You sit like you’re being interviewed at all times.”

“Are you saying I’m stiff?” she mock-gasps.

“I’m saying if I shouted ‘say cheese,’ your back would snap.”

She scoffs, shaking her head, but her smile stays. She’s loosening up. I can see it. In the way her fingers trace the rim of her cup and in the way her foot brushes mine by accident and doesn’t move away.

A beat of quiet stretches between us.

“You said no expectations,” she says. “So, what? No one expects you to be anything here?”

“Here, I’m just a guy drinking bad wine.” I shrug, slow.

“I think the wine is good.”

“You do.” I smirk. “I don’t. But I’d drink paint if it meant getting you out here for two minutes.”

That earns me a real laugh. I’ve heard her giggle and I’ve heard her gasp. But that? That’s her unguarded.

“You’re not as macho as you act, you know?” Melody glances over.

“I’m not as anything as I act,” I say. The words come out before I can pull them back.

Her head tilts slightly, as if I’ve just given something away.

Her eyes sharpen, lips parting like she’s about to ask something.

“You ever feel like you’re faking it?” I interrupt, voice lower now. “Like… you spend so much time being one version of yourself that you forget what the real one feels like?”

She doesn’t answer right away, but then nods.

“Yeah,” she whispers.

I almost say something else. Something about the version of me that lives in her phone and the one that’s here, sitting next to her, holding back every goddamn urge in his body just to keep her comfortable.

Instead, I take another sip, then glance over with a smile.

“Anyway,” I say, voice light again. “I brought you here for the view.”

“Yeah. Of the cove.” She raises a brow.

“Mmhmm.”

“Not your face.”

“Which one do you prefer?”

“God, you’re exhausting,” she mutters.

“And you’re smiling,” I say.

She smiles into her wine and empties her glass.

I hope she never goes back after this. Not to who she thought I was—thinking I’m a one-note, dick-first hockey player with nothing to offer but a smirk and a six-pack.

Because this is me.

And I hope she might be starting to like it.

The bottle’s almost empty and the glasses are half full. She’s laughing more now, looser and lighter, like the wine finally caught up to her.

I swear to God, I’ve never seen anything hotter than Melody with her head tilted back in laughter, curls loose again, dress slipping off one shoulder, feet buried in the sand.

She tips her cup back, finishes what’s left, then sighs dramatically and sets it down.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll admit it. You’re not the worst company.”

I know. You stay awake way past your bedtime each night just to talk to me.

“Is that the closest I’ll get to receiving a compliment from you?” I feign offense.

“Definitely.” She grins. “We have to go back soon. I texted Dom that I’m taking a shower. He’ll start wondering if I’ve drowned soon.”

I stretch my arms behind my head, staring at the sky. The last of the pink is bleeding out now, leaving behind a velvet blue that settles low and thick over the cove. The moon’s rising fast, casting silver streaks across the water.

“Alright,” I say, pushing to my feet and brushing sand off my shorts. “There’s one more thing I love doing here.”

“Let me guess.” She raises a brow. “Sex.”

“I’ve never brought anyone else here,” I remind her. “No one knows about this place.”

That makes her pause. I don’t miss the flicker in her eyes and the flush at the top of her cheeks.

“Skinny dipping.” I nod my head towards the water.

“Absolutely not.” She blinks.

“Suit yourself.” I shrug.

Before she can protest, I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my swim shorts and start peeling them down.

“What the- Jace!” she shrieks, spinning around so fast she kicks up sand.

“Feel free to look, sweetheart!” I laugh, tossing the shorts dramatically onto the sand right next to her. “Or not.”

“Oh my god, you’re actually insane.”

I walk right into the water until I’m waist deep and dive in, head under, body cutting through the soft waves. The water’s still warm, today’s heat still clinging to it.

I surface with a shake of my head, pushing my wet hair back.

“Fuck, that’s good,” I call out, voice echoing off the stone walls.

“No thank you!” she shouts from her spot on the log, hands still over her eyes.

“C’mon.” I float lazily, grinning up at the stars.

“No,” she yells back, flustered.

“I dare you.”

“You think you can peer pressure me into stripping in the middle of nowhere?”

“I think you’ve been dying to get in this water since the second I brought you here.” I call back, swimming closer to the shore.

“So you did have a plan to get me naked.” She scoffs.

“Guilty.” I grin “Only… I think you want to. But you’re scared.”

That gets her quiet. I tread water, eyes locked on her silhouette.

“You live behind rules,” I say with confidence, because these are her words, not mine. Words she’s told me herself. “Expectations. What people think. What you should do. But no one’s here right now. No one’s watching but me.”

She’s silent but she removes her hands from her eyes.

“Don’t you want to do something that’s just for you?” I ask, softer now.

There’s another beat of silence before she speaks.

“Promise not to look while I get in?”

“I swear on my lucky hockey stick,” I call out.

“That’s not even a real oath.” She laughs under her breath.

“Still binding.”

“If you peek, I’m telling my brother.”

That has me cracking up.

“Melody,” I say, letting the name roll off my tongue, “if I peek, I hope he kills me. Because at least the view will be worth dying for.”

“Turn the hell around,” She groans.

“Turned.” I spin in the water, facing the horizon and the last bits of orange.

I hear the shuffle of fabric, the nervous laugh and the unmistakable sound of water splashing as she gets in.

I grin wide.

“This feels so weird,” she gasps.

“You’ll get used to it.”

She splashes toward me, and I hear the water shift closer.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you,” she mutters.

“Noted.” I tilt my head, still facing away.

She’s somewhere behind me in the water. I can hear her splashing softly, testing the depth, paddling aimlessly, probably keeping a full ocean of distance between us.

And I’m giving her space. I am. But I’m also losing my fucking mind.

Because Melody is naked in the water…with me. I can’t see her body, but my brain is doing me zero favors. I’m picturing every inch, every curve, and every drop skimming her skin.

“Okay,” she says finally, water sloshing as she drifts closer. “You can turn around now.”

I turn and look at her. I can only see her head and shoulders above the water. Her hair is slicked back, skin gleaming, eyes wide and uncertain and burning.

I can’t see anything below the collarbone, but it doesn’t matter.

I know. And that knowing hits like a sucker punch.

Something inside me flips. That thing I keep caging starts to rise.

“Careful,” she says, her voice still light. “I can see your thoughts written all over your face.”

“Yeah?” I murmur, voice deeper, heavier. “What am I thinking?”

“Something bad,” She whispers.

“What gave me away?” I ask, slowly drifting towards her.

I stop about a foot away. We’re both treading water now, bodies hidden beneath the surface, but so close the ripples from her movements touch mine.

“You want me to stop?” I tilt my head.

“I didn’t say that.” She licks her lips.

Silence blooms between us, heavy and charged. The kind of silence you only get right before everything changes.

The water is still now, she’s not moving and neither am I.

Slowly, her hand lifts. Her fingertips skim the surface between us, sending a ripple toward me. I meet her halfway, one hand sliding gently under the water to rest beneath her hand. Not grabbing, not pulling, just touching.

Her eyes flutter down to where we’re touching before she looks back up at me.

And that’s all it takes for me to close the distance.

One second she’s floating across from me, and the next, I’ve got one hand on her waist, pulling her into me. I’ve been waiting ten months for this moment.

Her skin glides against mine, hot, wet, and electric. Her bare chest presses against me, her hands fly to my biceps and her eyes hold mine.

As soon as I move, she gasps. It’s a sharp, involuntary sound. Because she feels it. She feels me, hard and pressed against her stomach.

Her breath stutters, eyes going wide, lips parted just enough for me to see her tongue coming out to wet her lips.

There’s nothing between us but water and tension.

And fuck, I’m so hard it hurts. I slide my other arm around her back, drawing her in until every inch of her body is against mine.

Her legs float up, brushing mine under the surface, and then, on instinct, pure and reckless, she wraps them around my waist.

“Fuck,” I exhale sharp, nearly groaning.

Her arms lock around my shoulders, her nails scratching through my hair, like she’s bracing herself. Like she knows what’s coming.

“Jace,” she whispers. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

I love hearing her say my name.

“I know,” I murmur but I don’t stop. Instead, I do the thing I’ve been wanting to do since Halloween night. My hand slides around to the back of her neck, and I tug her towards me until my mouth crashes into hers.

A foreign, long forgotten feeling crashes over me – lust, excitement, desire, and bliss all at once.

My pulse spikes, my chest swelling like it’s too full to hold everything I’m feeling.

Her lips are wet, salty, and soft. But the kiss is anything but.

It’s tongue, teeth, and heat. A kiss that tastes like desperation and ten months of wanting. Like raspberry wine and longing.

Her hips shift and I know she feels my cock again, straining, grinding between us. She gasps into my mouth—and it wrecks me. That little sound, caught between surprise and need, splits something wide open in me.

I’ve known for a while now—somewhere between her late-night confessions and the way she laughs with her whole damn body. Between her fire and her softness. That stubborn mouth, those mischievous eyes. Every part of her forces me to stop pretending that this is just lust.

I’m in love with her.

And now that it’s hit, there’s no dragging myself back. No reason left to lie to myself anymore.

My hands continue to roam, dragging down her spine, cupping her ass underwater as I grind into her once and feel her thighs tremble around me. She moans – a barely there sound that makes my world tilt.

I bite her bottom lip, tug it, release it, then kiss her again, deeper, slower.

She clings to me like she’s drowning and I’m the only thing keeping her afloat.

Every glance. Every fight. Every goddamn text. It all led here. To her shaking in my arms. To this kiss that feels like it’s rewriting fate.

When I finally pull back, I rest my forehead against hers, breathing hard. Her chest rises and falls in sync with mine, our lips a breath apart, her eyes closed.

And when she finally opens them and looks at me, I see it. She’s not afraid of admitting how much she wants me anymore, not looking at me like I’m something dirty she should be resisting. She’s looking at me with every bit of honesty she has.

And that’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.