Page 28 of Trick Shot (Miami Blazers #1)

Chapter fourteen

~MELODY~

Jace’s body is hot, solid, massive, and pressed into mine like it belongs. His hand is on my waist, his knee between my thighs, and I can barely breathe.

I don’t even know if it’s from panic or desire at this point. He shifts his grip, his breath warm against the side of my neck.

And God… my body remembers him. The ache between my legs is still there—still tender, still humming from the way he touched me last night, from the way he moved inside me.

And now, despite how sore I am, I want it again.

I want him again. Right here, in this stupid pantry where anyone could walk by.

His fingers slide along my ribs slowly, and my body automatically leans into his touch.

“Tell me you don’t want me again.” His voice is filthy with intent.

I can’t. Because that would be a lie. I want him. I want him so bad I think I might actually die from it. But for some stupid reason, I can’t say it. Yet.

Male voices spill into the house, the most prominent one being Dom’s.

“Burgers and fries again?” Dom’s voice carries down the hall, casual and close. “We’re about to go back home looking like sumo fighters. Someone make a damn salad on the side, at least.”

“I’ll get the buns from the pantry,” Tanner shouts back, his voice getting closer.

Jace freezes, and so do I. He pulls back slightly but doesn’t move far, his hand still pressed to the wall above my head, his eyes locked on mine.

Oh God.

He pulls me against the wall behind the door just in time and opens the door wide, hiding me behind it.

“Buns? Here,” Jace says before I hear the rustling of the packaging. “Don’t let Matt cook or we’ll be eating charcoal.”

The guys are out on the patio, half of them shirtless and sweaty, passing around a ball in a circle like a ritual of testosterone and grunts. I’m sitting on a lounge chair with my knees pulled up to my chest, pretending to scroll through my phone while my brain collapses in on itself.

I haven’t texted Ghost since last night. Not since…

My clit throbs just at the thought of it.

I don’t know what to say to Ghost. I don’t know how to talk to him after last night.

How do you say, Sorry I didn’t reply. I was busy getting my cherry popped by my brother’s teammate?

How do you keep texting someone your secrets, your desires, your most intimate thoughts, when someone else is living them out with you in real time?

It’s not fair, and it’s not right. And the guilt is sitting heavy in my chest like a stone I can’t swallow.

I bite my lip and glance toward the men again. Jace is laughing at something Dan, their equipment manager, said—his abs flexing, his neck glistening, tattoos stretched tight across his skin.

For a moment, I imagine something that feels both impossible and too perfect to be real.

What if they were the same person? What if every time I texted Ghost… it was Jace on the other end? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, the theories filling my head with each passing moment.

Jace knows things about me. Things he shouldn’t—unless Dom told him. But the thing is, I’m not even sure Dom himself knows about them. It would make too much sense. If he was Ghost, all of this—the mess, the guilt, the confusion—it would click into place.

But he’s not. I’m aware of the delusions I’m planting inside my own head. And every second I don’t text Ghost back, I feel like I’m betraying him more and more.

The panic won’t let up.

It’s been clawing at me all day, thick and tight in my chest like I swallowed it whole.

Every time I see Jace, every time I hear Dom’s voice, every time I pass a mirror and catch the glow in my cheeks, I think about Zed seeing us.

Dom is the only person whom Zed talks to on his own accord.

They know each other. And I also know Zed.

I’ve seen him at our house a few times when I was little.

He would over with Dom and have lunch after practice.

He always seemed… cheerful. I, honestly didn’t recognize him when I saw him again.

It took me two days to realize this is the same boy whose laugh I could hear through a closed door.

I asked Dom about him but he says he has no idea what happened to him either.

Now, all I know about Zed is that he saw Jace sneaking out of my room this morning. And if Dom finds out, I don’t even know what would happen.

Would he send me back home?

I can’t let that happen.

So I look for him.

It’s not hard. He’s impossible to miss—like a tall reaper on vacation, standing at the outdoor bar.

I take a long breath and make my way toward him.

Be normal. Say something normal.

I reach the bar, and he doesn’t even look at me.

“Hey,” I say softly. “Didn’t know you were a bartender too.”

Idiot.

“I’m not.” Zed keeps his eyes on the glass in front of him.

Cool. Great start.

He picks up a clean glass, grabs the ice, and drops it in. Then speaks again.

“Of course. How much sugar?”

For once, his deep voice isn’t quiet. It’s loud enough to carry.

“What?” I blink.

“One spoon alright?” He flicks his eyes to the side.

I follow his gaze and spot Dom immediately. He’s leaning against the porch railing, watching us like he’s trying to read lips.

Oh.

Zed’s making coffee. For both of us.

“Thanks.” I straighten and force a casual shrug.

He keeps working—pouring the espresso, adding syrup—his movements slow. He’s giving me time to speak up.

Dom finally looks away and walks over to the grill, where a couple of his teammates are babysitting the steaks.

“Dominic’s not stupid.” Zed doesn’t look at me when he speaks.

“I know.” My stomach tightens.

He drops in the spoon and swirls it around.

He’s not going to speak first. And I know it.

“Are you going to tell him?” I lean in slightly, lowering my voice. “Please—”

Zed cuts me off with a hum. Not of agreement. Not of disagreement. Just... consideration.

“Am I going to tell him,” he says finally, slowly pouring the milk over the espresso, “depends.”

“On what?” I furrow my brows.

“Are you going to let me join you?” he says before licking the spoon and dropping it into the sink with a sharp clink.

“W-what did you say?”

My brain can’t process what my ears just heard.

Then he looks at me. His light eyes are slanted and narrowed.

My whole body seizes under his gaze.

How can someone be so intimidating just by existing?

And did he just... did he just suggest a threesome?

“Now that I think about it,” Zed cocks his head, still watching me, “Jace is one thing. But the two of us together?”

I blink fast, a blush crawling up my face instantly. My cheeks burn. My lungs tighten…

“Breathe, Melody. I wasn’t being serious,” he murmurs, almost gently. “I won’t say a word. It’s none of my business anyway.”

He lets go of the glass, and I tug it toward me with a huff, trying to laugh it off.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

“Enjoy,” he responds.

And I’m not sure if he means the coffee or Jace.

I turn and make a beeline straight to the house. It’s quieter inside. Outside, there’s laughter, splashing, the thud of volleyballs against sweaty palms, music, and voices shouting over each other.

I pad barefoot across the hardwood into the kitchen, still slightly damp from the ocean. My bikini clings to my skin, and my thighs are already sticking together from the saltwater.

I don’t need coffee, I need to calm down. Zed might not have been serious, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t conjure some serious visions in my mind.

I’m still trying to reset when I hear footsteps behind me.

I don’t need to turn to know who it is. My body already knows.

“Real cozy little chat you had with Zed out there.”

I whip around, clutching the bottle of water I just pulled out of the fridge.

Jace is standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his broad chest, his jaw sharp and ticking.

“You saw that?” I blink.

“Sure fucking did.” His eyes don’t leave mine. The air thickens, and there’s an edge in his voice I haven’t heard before.

“I asked him not to tell Dom,” I say, leaning against the counter. “And he…”

His stare hardens.

“And he what?” he repeats, flat.

“He said he might stay quiet if we invited him to join us next time,” I say.

The silence that follows is deafening and thick enough to cut with a chainsaw. Jace’s entire body goes still. I see his energy shifting like a storm tightening its grip. And I can’t help it. I giggle. It just slips out of me.

“I mean, obviously he wasn’t serious—”

But before I can finish, Jace moves.

He closes the distance in a second, grabs my wrist, and yanks me toward him—not hard, but firm enough that my body slams into his, bare skin to bare skin.

My heart pounds so loud I can barely hear anything else.

“Is that what you want? Two men at the same time?” he breathes.

My mouth parts. My throat tightens with the words.

Yes. You and…

“Jace! Matt’s on the grill, man!” The voice from outside hits like a gunshot.

Jace doesn’t flinch, eyes still on mine.

“We’re not done,” he says, voice low and loaded.

He lingers a second longer—like he’s daring me to admit it, to do something.

Then he exhales, jaw tight, and stalks out—leaving me alone, gasping, and painfully close to insanity.

The air still hums with him, like he left his energy behind just to torment me.

I grip the counter, trying to steady myself.

The guilt presses down like a weight on my chest, tightening with every breath.

But one thing’s clear.

This isn’t just messy. It’s too much.

And I don’t know how long I can keep pretending it’s not.

Because the truth is—I want both.

And wanting both feels like losing everything.