Page 62 of Trick Shot

I pull back like I’ve been scalded.

“Wait,” I gasp, water splashing between us.

“What?” Jace freezes, his hands still on my hips.

“This... I can’t.” I shake my head, eyes wide.

He looks down at me, stunned and confused, and I hate how good he looks like that.

His lips are swollen, his hair is dripping, his chest is heaving, and I know if I stayed, if I let him pull me back in, he’d ruin me.

“Let me go,” I choke out.

I untangle my legs from around him, suddenly hyper-aware of every part of me that touched him, every inch of skin still tingling from the contact.

He lets me go slowly, more than obvious that he doesn’t want to.

The second I’m out of his arms, I bolt for the shore. My legs are shaking, my heart is slamming against my ribs, and I’m trying to cover myself with my arms while running completely naked under the moonlight like a deranged nymph in a Greek tragedy.

Behind me, I hear the water slowly shift as he follows me out of the water.

My feet hit the sand and I scramble for my beach dress, snatching it up and yanking it over my head, struggling to pull it down over my wet, shaking body.

I barely get the thing halfway on when I feel him behind me. He’s so close I can feel his chest brush against my shoulders.

His hand wraps gently around my upper arm, turning me to face him before I can stop him. I squeeze my eyes shut the moment I do. He’s still naked and standing right in front of me, and if I look down I will absolutely fold.

“Melody,” he says, voice low and steady. “Talk to me.”

I shake my head, panic rising like bile. Have I just ruined everything I’ve built with Ghost for the past ten months for a man I met ten days ago?

“Open your eyes.”

“I can’t.” I shake my head.

His fingers slide up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing softly under my eye, his touch so gentle.

“Look at me, Bunny.”

I freeze at the nickname, eyes still closed. Blood is roaring in my ears as my mind spirals.

Did he just call me Bunny?

‘Look at me, honey.’ He said honey.

God, I’m already starting to hear things. I’m going insane, finally losing my mind—

I open my eyes and look up at him.

His eyes are burning, his wet body glowing under the early moon. I still don’t look down, but God, I want to.

My body remembers what it felt like to have his mouth on mine, his hard length pressed against my stomach, and his hands on my skin.

He moves a strand of wet hair off my face, his touch almost reverent enough to distract me from who he is—or rather… who he isn’t.

“You don’t have to be scared of this,” he murmurs. “Whatever’s in your head... it’s not louder than what just happened.”

But it is. Because what’s in my head is Ghost’s messages, his affection, his care, his words.