Page 30 of Trick Shot (Miami Blazers #1)

She’s been avoiding me all day like I’m radioactive. Every time I walk into a room, she walks out. Every time I speak to her, she gives me a clipped little “yeah” or “no idea” or “ask someone else.” No smile, no spark.

And yeah, maybe I deserve it. Maybe I was too much and too fast. Maybe she’s ashamed of what we did. Maybe she regrets it.

But why avoid me too…I mean Ghost?

Fuck, this is a mess.

I’m spiraling because I’m losing her as both of me. She’s pulling away from Ghost because she’s guilty. She’s pulling away from Jace because she’s—what? Ashamed? Guilty? Regretting it?

I’m watching it happen in real time, like a slow-motion car crash.

Because a darker part of me liked watching her fidget and blush and try to figure out how to lie to both halves of me.

It’s sick, but it was thrilling.

Because I have something no one else does.

All of her.

Even if she doesn’t know it.

“Jace, hand me that…thanks.”

I pass the plate without thinking.

Fuck this.

I can handle her being angry. I can handle her teasing, even her guilt.

But I can’t handle her indifference.

I can’t handle her ignoring me.

Not Ghost. And sure as fuck not Jace.

She’s been upstairs for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of pretending to smile. Pretending to laugh at some bullshit Tanner said. Pretending to be fine while every second feels like I’m bleeding out.

I can’t take it anymore.

I’m done pretending. Done watching her pull away like this doesn’t kill her too.

“Matt, watch the rice for me. I gotta change.”

I toss the towel over the counter and stalk upstairs, jaw tight, heart pounding.

I reach her door and raise my hand to knock—once, twice—then glance around. If someone catches me in here, I’ve got a problem. So, I grab the handle and walk in, expecting to see her on the bed or out on the balcony.

But the room is empty, the TV is on, and her clothes are thrown over the armchair by the bed. I hear the faintest sound of water running from the ensuite bathroom. I pause by the door, my mind already taking me where I shouldn’t go.

She’s in there.

Naked and wet, water sliding down every inch of her skin. And I’m standing out here like a fucking creep.

I should walk out, go back downstairs, smile through dinner, then talk to her once it’s over.

Yes, that’s what I should do.

But instead, I close the door behind me and step further into the room.

And that’s when I hear a sound that cuts me wide open and burns straight through my chest.

“Jace…”

I go completely still, every muscle in my body locking down like I’ve just heard a gun click behind my head.

She’s…saying my name?

No.

She’s moaning it.

Soft and breathless like a prayer caught on her tongue.

Fucking hell.

My cock jerks to life like it’s been summoned. Every rational thought leaves my mind as I cross the room.

She’s left the bathroom door slightly open. Steam curls from around it, making the air smell like body wash and temptation.

I press a hand to the doorframe, my other hand clenching tight at my side.

This is wrong. I should leave.

But she’s moaning my name. She’s ignoring me downstairs and moaning my name up here.

I push the door open before I can stop myself and step inside.

The glass is fogged, but I can still see the outline of her body. She’s in the shower, back to me, water cascading down her body in ribbons.

And she’s touching herself.

Her head is tipped back under the spray, one arm braced against the tile, the other already moving between her thighs.

“Jace,” she gasps again, completely unaware I’m watching.

I freeze, my heart pounding. I’m so hard it hurts, my dick swelling thick inside my shorts.

I bite down, jaw clenching, blood running hot, and mind going blank.

My hand drops to my cock, palming myself through the fabric. I watch the way her hips twitch and grind, the swell of her full breasts as they move up and down, her wet hair trailing down her back like a waterfall.

She’s so fucking beautiful it makes my heart ache.

Because I can’t have her the way I want—openly and loudly.

And she’s avoiding me. Pretending like I don’t exist.

I step closer to the fogged glass door and slowly slide it open.

She hears it—eyes snapping open.

She gasps, scrambling to cover herself, hand yanking away from between her legs, the other crossing over her chest.

“What the hell are you doing in here?!”

She stumbles back, slipping a little on the tile, water pouring over her skin.

My eyes scan her up and down—dripping, naked, glowing under the shower spray like sin wrapped in light.

Watching her perfect breasts rise and fall with every sharp breath.

She’s trying to cover herself as best she can, but I still see more than enough.

“Jace!” she snaps, desperate to hide herself. Her cheeks are red, and I don’t think it’s because of the water temperature.

I take one step towards her. My foot lands on the tile, and water immediately soaks through my shorts, dragging the fabric down over my thighs.

She steps back.

“What are you doing?” she stammers.

“Me?”

Another step.

Now the water hits my chest, soaking my T-shirt.

“You’ve been ignoring me all day,” I say, voice low. “Can’t look at me. Can’t talk to me. But now you’re up here moaning my name?”

Her lips part and her cheeks flush even more.

I take another step. Now we’re both under the water. Me, fully clothed. Her, naked and trembling.

“Get out!” she shouts, body still bent in an attempt to hide from me—like I don’t know what her insides feel like.

I don’t get out. I step closer.

She stumbles back until the wall catches her, steam curling around us, water pounding over her bare skin.

I tower over her, wet cotton plastered to my chest, eyes burning into hers.

“Tell me why you’ve been running, Melody.”

She glares at me, her snappy little chin tilted up, trying to play strong while she’s shaking.

“I’m not running.”

“Bullshit.”

I reach up and press one hand beside her head. The other slides down, skimming her ribs, down to her hips, and then her thigh.

She sucks in a breath as I drag my knuckles between her legs, over her hand.

“You’ve been giving me nothing but silence and attitude all afternoon.”

“Because it’s what you deserve,” she snaps.

“That so?” I smirk.

She opens her mouth to say something else, but my hand moves hers aside.

My fingers press over her bare pussy, already swollen and slick.

She chokes on her breath.

“Do I also deserve this?” I whisper. “Because it sounded like it’s all for me.”

“It’s not,” she pants, hand wrapped around my wrist.

But she doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t pull my hand away.

Instead, she pulls my hand toward her.

I press two fingers against her and part her lips. My thumb finds her clit, and her sharp breaths turn into gasps.

Her knees almost buckle, but I catch her—one hand wrapping around her waist, the other sliding over her pussy, circling her clit.

“Say that again,” I whisper against her ear. “Lie to me. Tell me you don’t want me inside you right now.”

She whimpers and rolls her hips against my hand, eyes fluttering closed.

“You think avoiding me fixes this?” I growl. “You think pretending this isn’t happening makes it go away?”

I press her harder against the wall, claiming every inch of space around her.

Her hands grab my wet shirt, clinging like she needs something to hold her up.

“You think that guilty little conscience of yours can save you, baby?” I murmur, my mouth tracing a slow line down her jaw to her racing pulse.

She moans out through gritted teeth, trying so hard to resist it, to keep those little sounds in.

“Jace,” she moans, tilting her head back.

I nip at her throat and drag my tongue over her collarbone while I work her harder.

“You don’t get to shut me out and then call my name when no one’s listening,” I growl. “You don’t get to run from me.”

She whimpers and clamps a hand over her mouth while the other clutches my soaked shirt.

I wrap my hand around her wrist and pull her hand away from her mouth.

I want to taste her. I want to taste her truth—her desire. I want to swallow her moans, drown in them.

My fingers keep rubbing while I use my free hand to pull her toward me by her neck until her lips meet mine.

My chest presses to her wet skin, and I can feel everything—every tremble, every twitch, every broken little sound she makes as I kiss her.

Just when I think she’s about to give in, she pulls back.

“Stop.”

Her hands are shaking as they push at my chest. Her eyes are wide, guilt pouring out of her like blood from a wound.

“I can’t…” she gasps. “I can’t do this again.”

She slips out from under me and rushes out of the shower to grab a towel.

She wraps it around herself in one frantic motion and runs out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

I’m standing under the water—soaked, hard, and furious.

Not at her. At myself.

My fists are clenched at my sides as the water beats down over me like punishment.

I stare at the tile wall where she was standing until guilt dragged her under again.

Guilt over me .

I know exactly what this is.

She thinks she’s being cruel—sleeping with one man while falling for another.

She doesn’t know she doesn’t have to choose.

She doesn’t know I’m the one getting all her screenshots of potential rentals for her flower shop.

She is splitting herself in half.

And I let her.

I fucking let her spiral while I sat back like a sick fuck, watching her fall apart over this “love triangle” that isn’t even real.

I’m tearing her in two with my bare hands.

And that guilt she’s choking on is my fault.

I breathe out through my nose, my heart pounding like a war drum.

No more watching her suffer because I couldn’t handle the truth.

I can’t watch her struggle to choose which version of me to love and which version to let go of.

Time for Melody to meet Ghost.