Page 105 of Trick Shot

“I liked the one with the white brick wall in the front,” he says calmly.

“And the French windows,” he adds. “That little alcove in the back? That’s gonna be perfect when the sun hits the blooms.”

My chest tightens as panic crawls inside it. Is he talking about… my flower shop?

“Jace, wait,” I whisper right before his fingers enter me again.

His lips graze my ear as I cry out.

“You were right. The flowers will pop against the white.”

My heart stops, starts again, and goes completely crazy against my ribs.

No.

He’s trying to mess with my head. And he’s succeeding. Because he’s not supposed to know about these things. He’s not supposed to know about the raspberry wine, about the pickles, about the way I take my coffee—and definitely not about the flower shop.

“You…” My voice breaks into a whimper.

No. The world can’t be this cruel. And this perfect.

I’m panicking now, chest heaving, but Jace keeps going.

“I love it when you send them to me,” he says.

I shake my head, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

“So tell me, Bunny?” he whispers, fingers still pumping between my thighs.

Bunny.

My mouth opens, but only gasps come out. I stare up at him, wide-eyed, at the edge of an orgasm, with my mind running a million miles a second.

He leans in close, eyes blazing.

“What the fuck does Ghost have that I don’t?” His lips brush mine. “When we’ve been the same person this entire time?”

His words slam into me.

My world is turning upside down—only my body hasn’t caught up.

I’m struck between craving him and scrambling to process what he said.

Then he pulls away, leaving me dazed and breathless, body pulsing from the loss of his fingers.

He pulls the front of his pants down, freeing his cock. My core tightens in anticipation, completely separate from my mind.

“You’re…” I breathe, still trying to figure out if he said what I think he said.

He’s breathing heavy, chest rising like he’s trying to stay in control. But his eyes are feral.

His cock is in his hand now, thick and long, and he’s so handsome it almost hurts. And to think…

Is this really the face under the mask? The body under the black costume? Is this the man I’ve been falling for the past ten months?

“Jace…” I whisper, legs still spread, body still begging.

“Still hate me?” he asks, voice a whisper as he drags the tip of his cock along my lips—not pushing in, just teasing.