Page 25 of Trick Shot (Miami Blazers #1)

Smug satisfaction paints his stupidly gorgeous face.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he murmurs, low and pleased. His breath fans across my lips—a cocktail of mint and whiskey.

“You’re getting nowhe—” I don’t even have time to get the final syllable out before his fingers tighten around my hair and his soft lips come down on mine.

Fireworks explode all over my body, my thighs instinctively tightening on both sides of his torso. His stubble scratches against my chin as he kisses me like he’s sealing the deal. He knows this is the moment I stop pretending I don’t want this.

My lips part, and he slides his tongue against mine, deepening the kiss just enough to make my entire body light up again. I whimper before I can stop it, and he groans into my mouth.

I feel it in every cell of my body—the anticipation, the ache, the undeniable sense that there’s no stopping this now.

He pulls back just slightly, barely a breath between us, and looks down at me with something darker.

“You still want me to get out?”

My heart thunders in my chest. I look up at him—at this massive, cocky, devastatingly hot man hovering over me, lips still wet from kissing me—and I can’t lie to either of us anymore.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I whisper.

He grins against my lips before bringing his mouth down on mine again. One hand dives into my hair, the other bracing the bed as his body sinks lower, chest pressing to mine, weight pinning me like it’s always belonged there.

His heart is pounding against my ribs, matching my own. He’s so close—all heat, pressure, and the kind of tension that steals your choices.

“I hate you,” I breathe it into his mouth.

“Hate me harder,” he whispers back, hand tightening in my hair.

I don’t know what I was thinking when I pulled him down by the shirt. Because now, I feel it—that slow, spiraling electricity that starts low in my stomach and builds with every second he keeps kissing me like that.

His tongue slips between my lips, and I pull him closer.

No one’s ever kissed me like this. My entire body reacts like it’s just been waiting for this moment.

Is this really happening?

I feel his hand skate down my waist, fingers trailing over the curve of my hip. It’s gentle and careful, but there’s weight behind it—a possessiveness. He’s not groping me, he’s touching me.

A pulse of panic flickers in my chest, buried beneath the molten ache building low in my belly.

Ghost.

The thought crashes into me.

What am I doing? I know what I shouldn’t be doing.

This. I shouldn’t be kissing Jace, letting him touch me, letting this go any further.

Not when there’s someone else—someone I’ve spent ten months opening up to.

Even if I don’t know what he looks like.

Even if I’ve started wondering if the magic will disappear the second I find out.

The moment you take off the costume, reality hits.

“You’re overthinking again?” Jace whispers against my mouth before pulling away an inch.

He’s watching me, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. Still so close I can feel the warmth of his breath against my lips.

I swallow hard.

“Thinking about someone else?” he asks, dragging his thumb across my cheek.

When I don’t answer, he chuckles and hooks two fingers under my chin, making me look at him.

“I won’t share you, Melody.” His voice is lower now.

The way he says it makes my belly tighten. I won’t share. And should I?

What if I’m throwing away something real for someone like Jace?

For someone whose reputation comes with warnings and headlines that call him a player, a flirt—a guy who probably says all the right things to get what he wants.

A man who’s used to girls melting for him.

Is that all I am to him? A body? A conquest?

“Get out of that pretty head, baby.” I feel his hand against my thigh, sliding up slowly. It’s not rushed, not demanding. He’s giving me time. He kisses the corner of my mouth, then the edge of my jaw, then my throat.

My heart stutters, and my body arches into his as his fingers skim higher.

“Jace…” I can’t say the words out loud. That I’ve never done this before.

I’ve never had anyone on top of me, never had anyone’s hands sliding up the inside of my thighs.

“My name sounds so good on your smart little mouth,” he murmurs against my skin, his lips brushing the side of my neck.

Oh God. Am I really about to let my brother’s teammate be my first?

His hand brushes over the front of my panties, and I jolt with a gasp.

“Sensitive, huh?” His voice is thick. “You’ve made such a mess of those panties.”

The sensation of someone touching me down there is so new and foreign that my entire body seizes. He presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth—slow and soft. Then another, just below my jaw.

A whimper escapes my throat.

“You gonna let me finish what I started?” he murmurs, voice slipping into something even lower, filthier.

His hand lingers between my legs, just brushing over the fabric of my panties. But it’s enough to make me lose my mind.

I’m frozen in this storm of guilt and heat and confusion.

It’s like he can hear the war in my head, because he leans in, lips grazing my ear.

“Talk to me, baby.” His voice is soft. “You wanna stop, we stop.”

My chest rises and falls as my mind and body keep fighting.

“You want me to leave, I’ll walk out that door. I won’t touch you again.” He pulls back a little to look at me. “But if you want me to stay, you need to show me. Cause I’m not about to guess when your pussy’s this wet and your mind’s a fucking mile away.”

He pulls back, propping himself up with one thick, veiny arm. He looks at me, tense, hungry, holding back.

You need to show me.

And I do. My hand moves before I can think it through. Between us. Shaky fingers sliding down the front of his shorts until they land on him.

My hand palms him—thick and hard, hot even through the fabric. My stomach spasms, and my thighs clamp around him. Even though I felt it pressed against me, it’s different to actually feel him with my hand.

His entire body goes still, like I flipped a switch. His lips are parted, and his chest expands with a sharp intake of air. Then, he lets it out, a slow grin spreading across his face.

I look down at my hand, then back up at his face.

Yep. I definitely just did that.

“Does that answer your question?” I breathe out, overcome by a sudden wave of satisfaction from the way my touch is affecting him.

“Loud and fucking clear,” he rasps, jaw clenched, eyes suddenly darker than sin.

Holding his weight with his left arm, he slides his right one between us, covers my hand with his, and grinds himself against my palm.

My eyes flutter shut at the feeling, my legs automatically parting for him.

“You feel that?” he repeats. “That’s what happens when you’re around me. That’s what happens every time you open that smart mouth of yours.”

He moves his hips again, dragging that thick bulge up the length of my hand.

I whimper, open my eyes, and find him smiling. It’s not sweet—it’s wicked.

“Can’t wait to feel you around me,” he murmurs, lowering himself until his chest brushes mine.

His words go straight to my throbbing clit.

“That little pussy’s gonna take me so fucking good,” he adds, eyes locked on me.

He dips his head, lips brushing across mine.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he whispers.

And in that moment, despite every fear, every ounce of guilt, every spiraling thought, I’ve already decided.

“Yes,” I whisper against his lips.

He holds my stare, something fierce burning behind it.

His fingers leave my hand, and then he’s sliding down my body—slow and sinful.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he murmurs, voice low.

I do, watching him lower himself until his face is right above my panties.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, suddenly a little self-conscious.

He looks up at me through his lashes, gaze teasing.

“Something I’ve wanted to do since the first time I saw you,” he rasps.

His teeth catch the waistband of my panties.

I suck in a sharp breath, realizing what he’s doing. He’s undressing me… with his mouth.

He drags my panties down with his teeth, hands sliding beneath my thighs, eyes never leaving mine.

I’m trembling—half from anticipation, half from disbelief.

He’s really doing this. I’m really letting him.

He grabs the fabric and slides the rest of it past my legs, which fall open the moment the panties slip off them.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his hands holding my legs open so he can get a better look. I feel exposed in the best way—bare and wet in front of his face.

He kisses the inside of my thigh once, then again, higher.

“Jace,” I whimper, completely new to the sensation of having someone so close to my pussy.

“Shhh,” he soothes, thumb brushing over my skin. “Let me take care of you.”

He leans in, his breath hitting my center, and I jolt—instinctively trying to close my legs. His hands clamp down, holding me wide.

“Ah, ah,” he murmurs. “No hiding, baby. You started this—now let me finish it.”

He dips his head, and his tongue swipes against my clit. One long stroke that rips a sound from my throat I’ve never made before.

“Oh my God,” I pant, hands fisting the sheets.

“You taste as good as you fucking look,” he growls, his voice vibrating against me.

He slides his hands under my thighs, using his fingers to spread me open.

His tongue finds me again—hot and slippery—swirling over my most sensitive spot.

His mouth works me, slow and methodical, like he’s punishing me and worshiping me at the same time.

My hips lift to meet his mouth, and I reach down to grab his hair, whimpering. I want more of whatever this is. My fingers tighten, pulling him closer, needing to feel more of his mouth between my legs.