Page 44 of Trick Shot

I wanted him to kiss me. Every second he hovered over my mouth, every breath that hit my skin, I waited for it. And if Dom hadn’t interrupted us, God knows what would’ve happened.

I groan and cover my face with both hands.

If Dom finds out I was two seconds from being tongue-deep with his best friend in the hallway of his beach house, he’ll throw Jace into the ocean.

I spin around and stare at my bed, tossing the book and my phone on top of the covers.

What am I even doing?

I’m supposed to be thinking about Ghost. He’s the man who knows me, who makes me laugh, who sends me good morning messages and remembers the most microscopic details about me. He’s the man I fantasize about late at night when I can’t sleep, even if the face behind the mask belongs to Jace in my head now. The cocky, shirtless, tattooed asshole who just told me to change and pressed me against a wall.

Ghost makes me feel alive, yet safe.

Jace makes me feel like I’m poking at a wall plug with a fork.

Only… I want to get zapped.

I grab a T-shirt from my suitcase and start changing for dinner. I wasn’t even planning on going downstairs with my nipples out. I’d already planned on throwing something over this tank. But now that Jace told me to? Now I want to waltz down there shirtless just to spite him.

If my brother wasn’t in this house, I might’ve done it too. I would’ve walked down with my nipples poking out and stared Jace in the eye the whole time.

But Dominic would take one look at me and send me back upstairs before I could blink. So now I’ve got two options:

Obey Jace.

Or obey my brother.

Either way, I lose.

“Damn tyrants,” I mutter under my breath and yank the shirt on.

I’m halfway through pulling my shirt on when a knock hits the door.

“Come in.” I finish tugging the shirt over my head, praying my face doesn’t scream I just got pressed against a wall and liked it.

The door opens a crack, and Dominic sticks his head in. “You decent?”

I give him a look. “Define decent.”

He walks in anyway, closing the door behind him like we’re about to have some very important sibling discussion. He leans against the dresser, arms crossed, eyes scanning me like he’s trying to determine if I’ve already caused trouble.

“What?” I ask, folding my arms.

Dom sighs.

Uh-oh.

“I just want to say something real quick,” he says.

“This is already weird.” I raise a brow.

“I’m serious.”

“Clearly.”

He pauses, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to figure out the best way to say what’s coming without setting me off.

“I know you're not a kid anymore,” he starts.