Page 51 of Trick Shot

“Guess I’m about to start.” I grin.

The sun’s starting to turn golden, but it’s still hot enough to fry my skin as I walk toward the house, needing a cold beer.

The house is mostly quiet when I step inside, the music muffled. I walk through the open-concept living room as if this house hasn’t witnessed the slow unraveling of my self-control for the last twenty-four hours.

I head to the kitchen, yank the fridge open, and lean into the cold, hoping it can fix what’s wrong with me. There’s a lineup of beers stacked neatly on the middle shelf. Dom’s brand, my brand, someone’s shitty brand. I’m standing there, debating between basic and alcoholic depression, when something red flashes in my peripheral vision. Not a normal red, either. It’s a fuck-me red. And before I even turn my head, I know whom it belongs to.

Melody’s beach dress is gone, and in its place is a red bikini that looks like it was painted onto her body.

Thin straps, tied tight at her hips, a top that barely contains anything, and her body... It’s pure punishment. It’s her saying,Look at me and suffer.

And I am.

My throat goes dry, and my cock jumps to full alert. All I can do is stand there and stare for the two seconds I have before she closes the distance and—fuck—

She brushes past me.

No. She doesn’t brush. She presses past me.

Her ass drags right against my dick as she leans into the fridge in front of me, reaching for a bottle of water. My hips jerk forward on instinct, and my hands go to the edge of the fridge door. I need something to hold so I don’t fucking lose it.

“Excuse me,” she says, soft, sweet, and absolutely evil.

Her voice is dripping with innocence, but her body is shouting“I fucking dare you”in neon signs.

My jaw flexes, and so does my cock, straining against my swim shorts.

She straightens, water bottle in one hand, then grabs an apple from the bowl on the counter. She turns her head toward me and gives me a small smile that’s nothing but sweet poison.

So this is what we’re doing now, huh?

She places the water bottle on the counter and, with that same sweet smile and an apple in one hand, turns to walk towards the glass cabinet.

Oh no. No fucking way you’re leaving, Bunny.

I let the fridge slam shut and move before I can even think. One arm wraps around her waist, yanking her back hard. A gasp escapes her lips as I spin her in one fluid motion until her back hits the fridge door. I’m towering over her, one hand still on her hip, the other braced beside her head.

She blinks up at me, lips parted, pulse racing in her throat.

“Was that on purpose?” I growl, voice so low it vibrates through my chest. “Or are you just naturally cruel?”

“You were in my way.” She tilts her head, playing coy.

“I’d like to be in something else right now.”

Vulgar, I know. Fucking sue me for being a little more than affected by this woman.

There’s heat in her eyes, a little panic, a little challenge. A cocktail of touch me but also don’t you fucking dare.

“Red,” I say, eyes dragging down her body.

“Something wrong with red?” She blinks innocently, but her breathing gives her away—and so does the flush in her cheeks.

Nothing wrong with red, Bunny. I simply want to rip every fucking inch of it off.

“You’ve been ignoring me all day.” My eyes flick up to hers.

“I’ve been busy enjoying myself,” she throws, yet it has no bite.