Page 102 of Trick Shot

His hand trails down, light and teasing, mapping the shape of my guilt.

"Convince me," he says, leaning down. "Convince me he’s better than me, Melody."

"Why?" I suck in a shaky breath.

"Because if you do," he continues, his lips grazing over my jaw, "I’ll walk out of this room and never touch you again."

"Jace, I don’t think..." I whisper, cutting myself off. I have no idea what his game is.

"Fucking convince me." His voice is deceptively soft as his fingers curl around the hem of the towel.

"He’s really kind."

"Try again," he murmurs, brushing his thumb over my chin. "I’m not convinced."

My heart slams into my chest. His body radiates heat and restraint, but his eyes are locked on mine like he already knows the answers and just wants to hear me say them.

"Come on," he whispers, mouth brushing the shell of my ear. "Tell me what makes him so fucking special."

"I can’t!" I flinch.

"You can." His hand slides down around my waist, pulling me closer.

"Why him?" he asks, breath hot against my throat.

"I..." My voice cracks. "He makes me feel seen."

"And?" Jace murmurs, brushing his lips along the edge of my jaw.

"He makes me feel understood." I let out a broken breath.

"Keep going." He drags his teeth down the side of my neck.

"He makes me feel like I matter," I whisper, closing my eyes. "He listens to me."

"What else?" He kisses the place where my pulse throbs.

"He knows how to calm me down," I admit, breath shaky. "He always knows what to say."

His fingers slide lower, beneath the towel and down my hips. I’m slipping. Drowning. Falling into him even as I talk about someone else.

"He makes me laugh. He reads the books I read just so he can talk to me about them. He does the same with shows and movies."

Jace’s hand slides between my legs and I gasp. His fingers find how wet I am and he groans into my skin.

I don’t know why this is getting him so worked up but it is. And it’s doing the same to me.

"He makes me wet," I breathe, unable to stop. The words fall out of me like a sinful confession. "He makes me..."

His mouth is on my throat now. His hand flexes between my thighs.

"He makes me come."

"You sound so fucking desperate for him," he growls, sliding a finger inside me.

My head falls back against the wall, a moan ripping from my throat.

"So, why me?" he asks, pumping slowly.