Page 112 of Trick Shot


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I grab the back of her thighs, and lift her off the ground.

She yelps, hand scrambling to clutch my shoulders.

“You want to get chased, little bunny?” I murmur, lips grazing her ear.

“Think you can catch me?” she whispers, wrapping her legs around me like it’s instinct.

I smirk, dragging my cock against her center through the thin barrier of clothes. Her mouth falls open in a silent moan, her eyes fluttering closed.

“You want to run, Bunny?” I murmur against her ear. “Fine.”

I set her down slowly, letting her feet hit the sand while her body stays pressed against mine.

“What?” Her brows pinch in confusion.

“You’ve got five seconds.” I take one step back.

Her eyes go wide with realization and panic.

“Five.”

“Jace…” She takes a step back, her chest rising and falling.

“Four…”

She hesitates, like she doesn’t believe I’ll actually do it.

“Three…”

And then she bolts—fucking sprints—dress flying, legs pumping, sand kicking up behind her. I stand still for two more beats, just long enough to feel my heart slam against my ribs.

And I chase.

Her feet dig into the sand, barely making it past the curve of the trees, weaving between palms and dune grass, breath coming out in ragged bursts.

I let her get ahead and think she’s got a shot. Then I cut across the trail, launching myself around the other side.

And there she is. She skids to a stop, trapped. Trees and rock behind her, me in front.

I tilt my head, taking a slow step toward her. And she does exactly what I expected her to—what every single damn opponent on the ice does when they’re face-to-face with me. She fakes left and tries to sprint past me.

Oh, sweetheart.

I catch her mid-stride, one arm around her waist, the other up her back.

She slams into my chest with a gasp.

“You really thought you’d outrun me?” I rasp against her neck.

“Was worth a shot.” She pants, twisting, trying to pull free.

Her cheeks are flushed, and her breathing is ragged. She twists in my grip, testing it. Oh? We’re still going.

I toss her higher, getting a more comfortable grip around her body.

“You want more?” I growl.

She’s fighting now—half-real, half-teasing—that spark in her eyes saying do it.